#but it's all on random pages throughout three or four different books at this point :'D

[blujayonthewing]

the one problem with using my sketchbooks as a catchall is that now I have brainstorming and character building notes scattered across my house instead of like. on my phone

[jaidens]

And When I Felt Like I Was An Old Cardigan

pairing [s] : spencer reid x reader

warning [s] : baby spencer | angst with comfort \ fluff | crying | mentions of spencers addiction |

a/n [s] : requests are open!! short imagine I guess

Spencer was young.

Spencer was young and had gone through more than any twenty-three year olds had. He was bullied and ridiculed throughout his school years, and was constantly working. His mind was on everything, how to be better and how to show people he wasn't some scrawny kid with some luck and brains.

It followed him into his adult life. In his work, if you didn't pull through you were pushed out. Spencer knew he had to continue to work on his information which led to him reading many books each week and never letting him do what he wanted. Whether that was binging Star Trek every night or eating cake and cookies while making fun of scientific facts in random television shows.

Eventually, after the Tobias Hankel case, he was at his all time low in his adult life. Spencer felt as if he had nothing to live for and he was shoved further down in his experiences. He felt like he was pushed on a shelf, and put away, for nobody to care or think about him. That was until he met you, an agent from a different branch of the F.B.I. You let him talk about his thoughts on the case and other facts that could travel along his sentences. It made him feel seen and that's all he needed.

After the case ended, you had called him, and asked if he wanted to get a cup of coffee and see a movie. He accepted it gratefully, meeting you on a frosty November morning. He's clad in a thick cardigan above a button up shirt and a bundle of feelings of worry. Spencer sees you in a small booth near the window, sipping on hot (what he learned to be) chamomile tea. There's a relaxing, acoustic song that's playing on the speakers.

He's gripping onto his leather satchel as he walks over to you. You look at him with eyes that he can get lost in through the dangerous labyrinth of the color. Spencer's hands go to his glasses and he readjusts them on his nose and stumbles to the table. His clothes seem to feel as if they're sticking against his skin as he sits down in the plush brown seat in front of you.

“Hi Spencer.” You say giving him a small smile and take another sip out of your steaming tea. Hes staring at you like you're a new book, the smell of a new book, and everything he loves about the sound of the first page turn. “...Hi.” Spencer responds letting out a breath he had been holding in, letting his shoulders drop and relax.

Spencer's eyes fall on the book that sits on the table that was aged and the spine wasn't in the best condition. He recognizes the name that's etched on the front. “Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë?” He asks you pointing at the book. You set down your tea and nod. “Yes! It's one of my favorites. Whatever our souls are made of...”

“...his and mine are the same.” Spencer finishes and you smile at him, the waitress walks over and Spencer tells her his order of a coffee with four sugars and two creamers. Whatever Spencer was doing, it was working. The soft charm he had to him whenever his dimples would show whenever he would smile, was working.

The same smile showed up the day he asked you to be his. He handed you a book with a note written inside with his messy hand writing. He can still remember the flash of happiness in your eyes as you ran up to him and kissed him. It didn't make sense to him for the first time in forever. It didn't make sense why he was terrified to look at you the next day as you wake up in his bed next to him.

He turns to the other side of the bed where you're laying, covered with his brown comforter. Spencer's hands suddenly feel sweaty and he's anxious, because that's his fiancee, laying in bed and the ring shines against the sun. If you would have asked twenty-three year old Spencer where he would be at 30, he wouldn't be able to answer you. Now, he knows. He knows that he's in complete and utter awe of his fiancee and that he's finally happy. This is what he's dreamed of for years, whenever he was a kid reading fairytale books over and over again.

Spencer finally had been seen and he was never losing it.

[celestial-ringleader]

Okay.

Let’s get this shitshow started. There’s going to be spoilers for every issue because I have a lot to say.

Firstly, let’s start with my first issue with this comic. On the first page it has the cast list of major characters listed:

It says right there in plain text that Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver, is supposed to be in this comic. Where the fuck is he throughout this whole thing? Where has he been for the last three fucking issues of this series? Pietro was on the first cover of this series, he was there for two books, and now he’s just magically not there anymore. You would think he would be one of the most important people there given how close he is to Wanda and his relationship to Erik; but for some reason Leah Williams decided he wasn’t necessary anymore past him punching Erik.

And by the way, last we saw him, he was being wrapped up in barbed wire by Erik. After that he just ceased to exist. There was one small cameo of him in the last book but it was so tiny and so vague that it could have been anyone. How come he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone in his family, did he and Lorna just forget their bond and now they just don’t know one another? Did he not care that Wanda is magically not dead now (which I fucking doubt because of how much he loves Wanda) or was he just not on Krakoa anymore? These are all questions I won’t have answers to because I know Leah is gonna just pretend we’re all idiots and will take whatever slop is given to us.

And now we move on to the murderer reveal.

This was fucking dumb. There’s no other words to describe just how dumb this whole situation is. What makes it worse is that Toad had no reason to be the murderer because it’s later revealed that this was a whole plot Erik and Wanda orchestrated.

So what purpose is there to having Toad confess to a crime he didn’t commit? If you ask me this just reeks of Leah forgetting that this was actually supposed to be a murder mystery with a trial involved and she decided to just make a random person from a hat the murderer only for their crime to be nullified like three pages later. I’m so glad it didn’t turn out to be Pietro because that would’ve made me so pissed, but this....this is just pathetic storytelling. To have a murder mystery work you need to have multiple suspects all with some motivation to kill Wanda, you need to have interviews, trials, intrigue as the plot thickens with more evidence pointing in different directions. But none of that was here. This was just a kaiju fighting magic fest with some murder mystery sprinkled on top because Leah realized last minute “oh wait! This issue is called Trial of Magneto! Guess I have to add in some trials on the last issue and have Erik feature more than in the last four books!” I don’t care if I’m exaggerating because this is what this tells me, as a reader.

She expected us to be fucking dumb and accept anything that landed on our laps that had Magnus Family written on it.

How come we had to wait four books before we got to see Wanda and Lorna interacting at all? I love this page but why did it take Leah this long to make them interact. And once again, why is Pietro not there? He wasn’t there for the trial, he wasn’t there for the fight, why is he not here with his sisters? Lorna and Pietro have probably the healthiest bond of the Magnet siblings and were friends before they found out they were family, so why would he not be there to support her after all the time he spent with her in ANXF?

Again, I know the reason why, but it’s just monumentally disappointing that we get this in the last issue and Pietro isn’t even included.

Okay...this genuinely made me happy. I’m surprised they remembered Joanne and I’m glad to hear that Kyle and JP get to have a kid to raise together. Not a big fan of the emphasis on “mutants only” but it actually made me smile.

Also, I’m so excited to see where this leads. I don’t know John Proudstar a lot but this definitely makes things much more intriguing for what could come afterwards. And basically everyone I’ve talked with this about was excited that John was back so yeah!

-*long sigh*- Wanda..I’m so sorry for this piece of shit. You deserve so much better.

So I guess to summarize my thoughts on this entire series: at first I thought I was gonna absolutely despise it by the last issue, and I still do, but what this makes me feel the most is extreme disappointment. This could have been a game-changer, this could have had so much more and could have led to so much more, but this does absolutely nothing for the story of Krakoa as a whole. Let’s just think about it, what did this actually accomplish? Wanda’s still alive, Erik is still on the Quiet Council, the rest of the Magnet family was barely in it so nothing happened to them; so what did this really do? It introduced a better resurrection process and made Wanda not hated anymore (which I still don’t understand how her doing this “redeemed” her at all) That’s it. That’s all this damn comic did for the story. This entire goddamn comic run was a five-issue waste of my fucking time. I got so excited to see what could happen after the first issue and nothing happened.

How can you have one of the most controversial marvel families and completely drop the ball? Anyone could have written better shit than this and could’ve done so much more. Like by the end of this I lowkey wished Pietro would’ve been the killer because at least then we would have SOMETHING going on. I don’t care how much magic and kaiju fights were in it, this comic was full of absolutely NOTHING. I don’t care how much OOC talking there was, nothing happened to the characters or the story and this issue is already forgettable. The only reason I remember the events is because I just read it, by next week I’ll probably forget it because of how little impact it has.

The first issue had so much promise, so much potential, and it was ruined. I know I’m gonna get people saying some shit like “well a lot of people had their hands in it so it’s not Leah’s fault!!1!!!” and I’m gonna say this: I don’t care. This was still her fucking story and she dropped the ball, editors do have a say but she’s still the main writer. This is her comic. And by the way, this is a trend for her writing because X-Factor isn’t any better (and no, having queer characters in it doesn’t save the comic, it just makes me roll my eyes when that becomes the one defense I see people have). I’ve seen fan theories that ended up being so much better than this comic, I’ve even started writing my own speculation into an AU, and I’m still in complete shock about this damn thing.

Of course this sounds like I’m beating a dead horse, especially with how much I’ve talked about Pietro not being there, but at this point I don’t give a fuck. Pietro not being there was the first sign this was gonna be bad and I was bang on the money with it, especially with the supposed “murder reveal” as if anyone cared about the murder by the end because we were too busy trying to sift through the bullshit of the third and fourth issue. Also why the hell are the Avengers even here, where is Jericho?

There was no trial, there was no plot, there was no intrigue. It was boring, mindless noise with pretty art. We were promised Magnet Family and a Maximoff retcon and we got this instead. This comic is a fucking joke and I hope Leah Williams never gets hired to write something again after this.

Anyways if y’all are looking for good comics to read after this, go read All New X-Factor and Quicksilver: No Surrender. Both comics treat Pietro’s character right and have some proper Magnet Fam sibling bonding along with an actual plot. I don’t know Wanda or Lorna well enough to recommend comics for them, but if anyone wants to put in recommendations here or send in asks with recs in them I welcome it.

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 4

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

A/N: Thank you to @rosegardeninwinter​ for editing and helping push me to finish! You are the best and any mistakes found are mine. :) 

Start at the beginning on Ao3: X

Ch. 4 Ao3: X

June

“Peeta really isn’t that bad,” Madge said for what felt like the millionth time. Katniss rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine. Ever since learning that Peeta was going to be the Romeo to Katniss’ Juliet, Madge had been defending him every chance she got. “He’s really not. And he’s so smart, Katniss. Picks up on things real quickly. So all this moping around you’ve been doing all week is stupid.”

Katniss frowned and shoved her sunglasses further up her nose, preferring the screams of the children running around them on the pool deck to Madge defending Peeta Mellark to her once again. Was she being overly dramatic about this? Maybe. Was Madge right that Peeta wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be? Perhaps. But it still sucked and she couldn’t stop complaining about it.

“I know you’re Team Peeta,” she sighed, “but would it kill you to see things from my perspective just this once? Isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do? Side with their other girl friends?”

“Maybe if you were right about him being a bad person, I would,” Madge sniffed, picking up her own gossip magazine to flip through. “But as of right now, you’ve provided me no evidence in support of your claim.” It was times like these Katniss wished her friend wasn’t the daughter of a prestigious lawyer.

“Gale sides with me,” she argued, pointing at her tall friend standing in line between two twelve-year-old kids for their slushies. “Doesn’t that count for anything on my behalf?”

“Gale’s an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re dating.” Madge stuck her tongue out at that, unable to refute her long-standing relationship with Gale and Katniss smiled. Of all the relationships she’d seen throughout the years—and band romances had provided plenty of weird, random romances, the weirdest being Johanna Mason and Melinda “Cashmere” Hewitt—Madge and Gale’s was the only one she saw that made no sense on paper yet made complete sense in person. The spoiled rich girl with a heart of gold and the rough-around-the-edges boy from the bad part of town? She never used to buy it in the movies, thinking the concept too ridiculous, but Madge and Gale proved her wrong time and time again.

Even when they had broken up sophomore year, claiming they were just too different, Katniss was still proven wrong because they couldn’t shut up about each other—griping about how she just didn’t understand and he always has to be right and I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that, a fact Katniss could have gone her whole life not knowing. When they got back together, it was hard to say who was more thrilled about it: the happy couple or Katniss.

“Come on, Madge,” she sighed, flopping back in her lounge seat. “Why must you always be the diplomatic one?”

“Someone has to be between your impulsiveness and Gale’s anarchy attitude.

“Did someone say anarchy?” the anarchist himself joked, handing Madge her lime-flavored slushie with a kiss on the lips for a tip. He handed Katniss her watermelon one and jokingly asked where his tip was. Katniss threw her three dollars at him with a “Keep the change” rebuttal. Gale laughed and pocketed the cash, lifting Madge’s legs up and over onto his lap so he could sit.

“So what did I miss?”

Madge snorted and offered her boyfriend a sip of her slushie. “Here’s a hint: it’s Katniss’ favorite subject.”

Gale rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Mellark again?” He took a large sip and winced at the sudden brain freeze, handing the large cup back. “God, I’m so sick of hearing about that guy. Katniss, get over it and move on already.” Even Gale was getting sick of her talking about it? Somehow, that hit lower on the pathetic scale. Gale was her complaining companion. Her bitch buddy. The person she reserved all her annoyances for because she knew he’d have his own trivial things to complain about. Hell, their friendship was founded upon complaining, starting in 8th Grade Science when their teacher kept giving them busy work to cope with the very public scandal of his wife sleeping with their school principal. They complained about everything with each other.

And now even Gale had said enough.

Well this sucked.

“Fine,” she said, not really feeling fine about it. “I won’t talk about it anymore.” Her friends looked doubtful. “I mean it! No more talk of Peeta Mellark and how my whole summer is practically ruined because I have to have extra practices to teach him how to dance on the field. And I’m not going to talk about how that cuts into my shifts at Aunt LuLu’s store, which means my spending money is going to be next to nothing by the time school starts. So if you two ever want to do anything more fun than hanging around the school parking lot, I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Gale smiled sweetly at Madge. “I’m so glad she’s not talking about it anymore.” Katniss scowled and gave them the middle finger, causing them both to laugh.

“I think you both are very biased over this whole thing,” Katniss said after a while. Gale and Madge didn’t say anything, too focused on tanning and summer reading homework. That didn’t seem to stop Katniss from continuing. “You’re both too friendly with him because of classes and band. He’s gotten to you.”

“One of us is biased,” Gale said, “and it’s not us. It’s you. You’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“With good reason!” she huffed, crossing her arms. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, already making it clear they were done talking about Peeta Mellark and all the annoyances he brought to her life, and she hated the fact that she did want to keep talking about him. About marching band. About the whole stupid situation. But she kept her promise and kept her mouth shut. 

No one said anything further until Madge declared herself starving and Gale suggested they stuff their faces with greasy burgers and fries at Sae’s.

**********

Sae’s Diner was packed with its usual lunch crowd—men and women from the factories nearby on lunch, sitting at the worn pastel-colored counter; a couple of kids they recognized from school goofing off in the corner booth, shooting straw wrappers off the straws; and a book club filled with women in their fifties discussing some brick of a book over coffee and Sae’s famous blueberry and cream pie sitting in the center of the small diner. The old woman herself smiled warmly at them when they’d walked in, asking if they were wanting the usual. 

“You’re the best, Sae,” Gale thanked as they waved and headed to their booth next to the front door. 

As they waited for their cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, Gale chatted about some war movie he and his brothers saw that sounded god awful boring, no matter how much he tried re-explaining the plot to them. Madge and Katniss rolled their eyes and told him if he wanted to see the movie again so badly, to go see it by himself. “I’m not going to the movies by myself like some weirdo,” he scoffed, taking his hands off the table as the waitress deposited their plates of food and drinks. 

“Why not?” Katniss asked, picking up a french fry to dip into her milkshake. “I do it all the time.” 

“Because you hate people.” 

“So do you.” He shrugged, not having much to argue there, and picked up his burger. 

“So what time is Trinket summoning you tomorrow?” Gale asked, changing the subject completely, and tearing into his burger. Grease dripped down his hands and Madge tossed a pile of napkins at him. He accepted with a smile and slid his side of pickles over to her, something he purposely ordered more of because he knew how much she liked them. Madge happily bit into one, her eyes gazing at him with such adoration, Katniss rolled her eyes. Their coupling was too much for her sometimes. 

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about marching band,” she said innocently enough, taking a bite into her own burger.

“I didn’t want you talking about Mellark,” he said pointedly, wagging a fry at her. “Marching band is different. Less annoying and less boy drama. So what time does Miss Cream Puff have you coming in?”

It irritated her that Gale simplified her great dislike for Peeta Mellark as mere boy drama because it was far more complicated than that, but there was no point trying to explain it to Gale. He understood a lot about her, but when it came to Peeta… Well, it was best to let him believe whatever he wanted. “Eight a.m. sharp,” she said sourly, dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

Gale winced. “That sucks. Why so early?” 

“Peeta couldn’t get out of working his afternoon shifts and it was either that or not have a single weekend off until November.” She was still bitter about the change in schedule. Originally Miss Trinket wanted them twice a week outside of color guard’s normal rehearsal times, but with Peeta’s work schedule not being as flexible as Katniss’, she’d decided to make it morning rehearsals and make those shorter, which forced them to add another day of rehearsal to make up for the cut time. Now instead of having rehearsal four times a week, Katniss had five with her weekends full of shifts at Aunt LuLu’s shop for the extra cash she desperately needed. This summer was going to blow.

“I still think you should’ve been picked for Juliet,” Katniss told Madge teasingly. “You and Gale, maybe?” she cooed. “The true star-crossed lovers of Athens Ridge.” 

Gale scowled. “I’d rather drop dead than have to deal with Trinket when she’s in choreographer mode. She’s a total tyrant.” 

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her.” 

“Tell me what you think after dealing with her for a whole season, oh captain, my captain.” 

Point taken.

Much like at the pool, they talked for a bit about things going on in their lives—Madge taking some online French class because her grades last semester weren’t great; Gale’s successful find for parts with Thom in the junkyard. Katniss didn’t say much as she munched on her burger and fries, afraid Madge would lecture her again on Peeta Mellark and her inability to let things go with him. That and she promised she was done talking about him. But outside of marching band and him, not much was going on in her life. She felt a bit pathetic about that. 

Conversation picked up when Sae came over, asking how things were doing. The three smiled at the old woman, happy to fill her in on all the small details of their lives. Sae was the unofficial grandmother of the Seam. Always there to show her support for her kiddos. Her small diner was covered with pictures of sports teams she’s sponsored over the years, pictures of her and kids dressed in dance gear, holding certificates. 

“Did you hear the news about Katniss, Sae?” Madge asked when the topic of marching band came up. Sae was always interested in that, loving watching her talented kids play as they wove around the field. “She’s going to be our Juliet this year! Isn’t that exciting?” 

Sae’s grey eyes warmed, turning to Katniss. “Is that so? Captain and the lead part?” She shook her head in astonishment, her salt and peppered colored hair coming loose from her hair tie. “You were always so talented with those flags. I’m not surprised. Who’s your Romeo?” 

“Peeta Mellark.” The name felt lodged in her throat, but thankfully, it squeezed out without too much of a squeak in her voice. 

Sae didn’t know all the kids on the west side, but she definitely knew Peeta. He would often tag along with her and her dad on their trips to the woods, stopping at the diner after for hot chocolate and pie. In fact, his picture was one of the first ones you saw coming in—Sae and six-year-old Peeta smiling at the camera, her arm around him as he proudly held up his lost baby tooth. Her dad had taken the picture, she remembered, and if the camera’s lens had shifted a little more to the right, it would have also captured five-year-old Katniss pouting on the side, upset that he kept losing his baby teeth when she’d lost none. It was a picture her gaze avoided whenever they visited Sae’s, unable to stomach the sight of an old friend turned asshole, the memory of her dad’s laughter as he took the photo. 

“Oh, Peeta,” Sae chuckled, the familiar twinkle she always got in her eyes when he was around. The old woman doted on him when they were kids and he ate up her attention like there was no tomorrow. “How is that boy? Staying out of mischief, I hope?” 

Gale and Madge looked to her with knowing smiles, wondering what she would say. Katniss cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten plate for a moment. “Fine, I guess. We don’t hang out anymore. You know that, Sae.” 

She did know that, but it never stopped her from asking whenever he came up. “Aye, girl, I do. I suppose you aren’t happy with Effie Trinket’s choice, then?” 

Gale snorted. “Happy? More like obsessively pissed. She hasn’t shut up about it since May.” She glared at her friend and he shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “What? You haven’t.” 

Sae gave one of her warm, crooked teeth smiles. “Maybe this is the push you kiddos need to kiss and make up.” Katniss’ cheeks warmed at the mention of kisses, remembering Leevy’s comment how they were so going to have sex by the end of the year. She still hadn’t fully forgiven her friend for that suggestion.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sae,” she said, her voice still a little strained. “We’re just too different.”  

“Ah, well. I suppose we grow in different directions sometimes,” the woman sighed with a shake of her head. A woman from the book club table called for her and Sae gave them a parting wave and smile. “Tell Peeta ol’ Sae misses her boy and that he needs to come in more. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Katniss pointedly avoided Gale and Madge’s amused smirks, focusing on the burger in front of her. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” she muttered, taking a big bite of her food to avoid continuing this conversation. She loved Sae. Thought of her like a grandmother. But there was no way in hell was she telling Peeta that. No way. Then he’d think she was gushing about him to anyone who would listen, thrilled to be his Juliet, a role many girls at school would kill for (Probably. Maybe. She thinks.), and then his stupid ego would just get bigger and he’d be even more obnoxious to deal with. No, best not to mention anything and lie next time she saw Sae. 

A small part felt guilty at that, though, because Sae was like a grandma who wanted the best for her, and Peeta too, she guessed, but again, Sae didn’t know what happened between them. And Katniss wasn’t going to fill her in on their broken history six years too late. 

Her phone next to her plate vibrated, signifying a text message just came in. Wiping her greasy hands, Katniss frowned, picking up her phone. Who was texting her? Everyone who’d text her was either sitting right across from her or were busy at work or camp. The little text message lit up at her touch, showing it was from an unknown number, and her frown turned into a scowl as she read it. 

Hey!!!!!!!!!1!1111!!!!!!! the message read with a thousand typo-filled exclamation marks. God, who text like that? Trinket gave me ur ######## Hope thats cool. Thought Id give mine!!!!!!!111111 🤗 Ill see u  Mon dearest Juliet ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!!!!!!!!!!111!😘😘😘😘!!!111!!!!!! 

For the briefest of seconds, Katniss swore her vision blacked out. One moment she was staring at her phone. The next, darkness. Like her brain couldn’t process the simple text on her phone and chose to shut down instead. When her vision cleared, the message was still there, glaring brightly at her with those thousand exclamation/number marks. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. He had her number.

         Her stomach churned and now she feared that what her mother always warned about Sae’s greasy food would come true now and she’d throw it all up. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. It was truly official. He had her number and she had his and they were partners now. If she had any doubts about this whole thing before—as if she had dreamt the last four weeks of her life—they were wiped clean now. Replaced with this typo-filled text message from the very boy who hurt her. 

“You okay?” Madge asked.

Katniss nodded and clicked out of the message, tossing the phone into her bag. She’d deal with it later.

[agrestebug]

Marichat May 2020

Hey everyone! On with the show with another one-shot! Cross-posted on Fanfiction, and please, don’t repost on another site without permission! I hope you enjoy!

Day 17 - Paparazzi

"ADRIEEEEEEEEN!"

He groaned, hearing his name being screamed from multiple sources behind him as he ran from the crowd of people trying to catch him.

It was like the 'Adrien the Fragrance' ad all over again. He knew doing that twenty page spread for the Gabriel magazine was going to come back to bite him, and here was the result, fans chasing him throughout all of Paris.

He turned a corner and was startled by multiple brilliant flashes of light, taking a few steps back as he shielded his eyes.

Damn it. - He thought. Paparazzi.

"Adrien!" "Adrien!" "Did you mean what you said in the interview with the spread released last week?"

"Is there really only one girl who has ever caught your eye?"

"Who is she?"

"How long have you known her?"

"What's her name?!"

"Will we be seeing the two of you out together anytime soon?"

"No comment." He answered automatically, backing up away from the paparazzi while trying to avoid backing up into the crowd of girls that had been following him.

"Is that where you are going now? To go see her?" Another of the paparazzi asked.

"No comment!" He said a little firmer, hating how they never took the hint. He was starting to really regret his decision to stay quiet. When his father told him about the spread, he should have never agreed so easily.

He felt something grab his middle and he was suddenly lifted off of his feet straight into the air. His arms instinctually wrapped around the nearest thing, which happened to be a red and black spotted suit.

"L-Ladybug?!" He said bewildered as they dropped onto a rooftop and out of view from both the hoard of fangirls, and the paparazzi.

Ladybug gave him a small smile, "I'm sorry about tackling you like that. I know I shouldn't have interfered but,"

"NO!" He said too loudly in his relief, hugging her tightly without realizing what he was doing, "Thank you. Thank you so much for pulling me out of there."

She hugged him back, glad that she had managed to find him when she did, "You're welcome. I'm sorry you're going through this. It must be tough."

He dropped his arms suddenly and took a step back, blushing profusely as he put a hand to the back of his neck, "It's not the first time something like this has happened. I think the interview really did me in. Fans are one thing, hounding paparazzi are another."

Ladybug frowned, "No, I get that. Believe me, I get it."

They shared knowing smiles before Ladybug asked, "Would you care for a lift home?"

"No, I don't want to trouble you Ladybug. You already saved me from that mob." He told her, embarrassed that she had to save him in the first place. "If you could just, let me down off the roof, preferably somewhere no one will notice, I can make my own way back."

She smirked, "It's no trouble, and I'd hate to have you get chased all over the city all over again." She looked up in thought before asking curiously, "Isn't there somewhere nearby you could maybe go to hide out for a bit? Maybe with a friend or something?"

He glanced around, "Honestly, I don't even know where I am. I've been taking random turns just trying to lose everyone." He peered carefully over the edge of the roof and saw that he was just a few blocks away from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Marinette. She'd let him hide out at her place for sure, and maybe he'd be able to sneak a few treats in while he was there.

"Actually, I think I have the perfect place and it's not too far from here." He told her happily.

She nodded, but couldn't hide her concern, "And you are sure you can make it on your own?"

He nodded instantly, "Without a doubt. You've already done more than enough by going out of your way to help me." He asked a little curious, "Did I miss an akuma attack or something? I don't think anyone's ever really seen you out unless there was one."

Her cheeks just under her mask turned pink, "O-oh, uh, I wasn't doing anything spectacular or anything, and there wasn't an akuma." She chewed her lower lip, admitting it sounding embarrassed, "I was actually walking home when I saw the paparazzi catch you at the corner. Then the fan-mob came up behind you, and you really looked like you wished you were anywhere but there so,"

He felt his heart flutter happily, "You transformed, just to save me?"

She nodded sheepishly and he hugged her again, simply because he couldn't help himself, "Thank you. I know that could have been risky for you."

"No one was paying attention to me. All eyes were on you." She said it a little softer, "It helps that my civilian self is easily looked over anyways."

"I seriously doubt that." He told her instantly, staring into her eyes. "Your civilian self is probably just as amazing as the way you are now. You may wear a mask, but you are still you. The only difference is a few spots." He touched her mask carefully, and she took a small step back, her voice shaking as she told him, "Y-You're very sweet Adrien, but trust me, you'd never notice me as my civilian self. That I can promise you."

"I've been told I have pretty good eyesight." He teased, smiling brightly when she let out a small laugh that rang through his entire being.

"Let me get you out of here mister twenty-page spread." She teased back, putting her arm around his waist. He hoped she couldn't feel his heart thundering against his ribcage as she lowered them slowly into the nearby alley. She really looked reluctant to leave but he told her with a smile, "I'll be okay, honest. Thank you again Ladybug."

She nodded, "Be safe Adrien. I hope this all dies down soon, for your sake."

She yo-yoed away and he sighed, telling her softly after she disappeared, "You always find a way to make me fall in love with you more, don't you M'lady?"

Plagg floated out from the pocket of his shirt, shaking his head, "You want to get caught by that mob don't you?"

Adrien shivered, "Not a chance. Plagg, Claws Out." He felt the transformation take hold and pulled his baton, vaulting back up to the rooftops. He headed straight towards the bakery, clearing the distance in a few short minutes and glad that he had taken the route with a view. At three of the four corners he would have had to take if he'd gone on foot, there were MORE paparazzi and fans hanging out looking for him.

He dropped onto Marinette's balcony with a relieved sigh, hearing a squeak of surprise coming from below before her head popped up out of the skylight, "C-Chat Noir? What are you doing here?"

He instantly fell to his knees and begged her, "Please purrincess, please let me hang out here for a little while."

She eyed him concerned, "Why? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, and I can't explain but I really just need some place to hide out for a little while. Please?" He asked hopefully, giving her the biggest pleading eyes he could.

She didn't look remotely phased, "Why don't you just go home?"

He fidgeted nervously, "Uh, I can't, explain that either, not without revealing my identity."

She started to frown at that, and he told her softly, "You are the only person I can trust. Please Marinette?"

Her frown softened until it turned into a smile, "Fine, come on you pouty kitty."

He smiled brightly and followed her down into her room. He instantly spread out on her floor, stretching out before letting his arms stay splayed out at his sides, "You are a lifesaver purrincess."

She rolled her eyes, watching the tension leave his shoulders. "You owe me one Kitty, and I intend to collect."

He told her quickly, "Whatever the purrincess desires, it is yours!"

She held back her laugh and sat in her desk chair, asking curious, "Really Chat, are you sure you are okay?"

He let out a heavy sigh, staring at her ceiling, "It's just, been a long day." He corrected himself, "It's been a long week actually."

"Guess it's going around." Marinette muttered to herself, but with his sensitive hearing he'd heard her clearly. He sat up and perched on all fours on the floor, tilting his head slightly as he asked curiously, "What do you mean? You've had a long week too?"

"Something like that." She admitted, flipping the page of whatever book she was looking through. He stood and walked over to her, flinching at the sight of the fashion magazine that was causing all this hell. He tried to play off his hatred of the dreadful magazine by asking lightly with a smile planted on his face, "Hey, that's the Gabriel Magazine right? The one with the designer's sons spread?"

Marinette nodded a bit sadly, "Yeah, this is the one that's causing him all kinds of grief."

He asked as though he didn't know exactly what she meant, "Grief? Is the spread no good?"

"The spread is fine. Adrien looks handsome as always," a slight frown crept onto her face as she stared at one of the pictures, "I prefer his real smile, but that's just me."

He peered over her shoulder, honestly confused this time as he commented, "He's smiling in the picture though."

She looked up at him with a shy smile, "Yes, but that," she pointed to the picture on the page, "is his 'model' smile."

"Why does it sound like you have quotes around the word model?" He said with a raised eyebrow.

She giggled slightly, "I guess it did come out that way huh? This smile is the one he shows everyone. It's automatic and to anyone who doesn't know him, they believe it when they see it."

He stared at the seriousness of her face as he said it, knowing it was true, "But you don't."

She shook her head, "No, I don't." She looked back down at the magazine, "I don't know how to explain it, but I can just, tell. His real smile is so much brighter than this one. His eyes shine and he looks so genuinely happy." She said it heavily, "I wish I had a way to make sure he could smile like that all the time."

Chat felt his heart warm and he smiled, "He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

It left her before she could stop it, "More than a lot, I love him."

He felt his knee's shake, "You, love him?"

She told him quickly, "I know, it's ridiculous right? You probably think it's just some silly crush from a crazy fangirl."

"No!" He said too quickly in his nervousness, seeing her look surprised before he explained, "I, I'd like to think I know you well enough to know that you mean it, when you say you're in l-love with him."

She smiled sadly, "Thanks Kitty, but you don't have to try and make me feel better." She stared down at the magazine longingly, "Someone like Adrien, he'd never notice me as anything more than a friend." She swiveled in her chair, making sure she could still see Chat Noir and the magazine lying on her desk.

"I'm glad to be his friend, I really am," she laid her head on one of her arms without turning her back to Chat, "I just wish he wouldn't look me over so easily, so that he could see how much he really means to me."

She reached out and fidgeted with the framed picture on her desk of her and Alya, with him and Nino standing on either side of them, tipping it back and forth lightly with a finger.

He tried to pull himself together, her words echoing inside him. Marinette, loved him. But she, she had always denied that she felt something more for him. He had always felt amazingly lucky that he could even call her his friend, and she actually, cared about him so much more than that.

"When did you, fall in love with him?" He asked, trying not to let his nerves show.

She kept fiddling with the picture frame, sighing heavily, "It wasn't one moment really. He surprises me with his kindness, and in the same second can surprise me with his fierceness when it comes to protecting his friends. I get all tongue-tied and can barely stay on my feet when I see him, and he's so sweet. He doesn't ever mention how awkward I am around him. He probably thinks I'm a lunatic."

"I'm sure he doesn't." He told her kindly, her words touching his heart. Usually the first thing people talked about were his looks, and then all the 'great' talents he'd been forced to learn. She didn't mention either, and he had a feeling she wasn't going to bring them up. It sent his heart into a pounding flurry, beating against his chest. How could this incredible girl have so much love in her heart for him? How could he have never realized her feelings when they were as clear as a crystal sky now? He must have really been blind.

"And he's brave," she said with a small smile as she stared at the picture, "he pushed me out of the way of an akuma more than once, when he could have gotten hurt himself. Sometimes when he looks at me, I feel like maybe he sees me, just a little bit. My heart flutters like a hummingbird, and I start to feel all warm inside." She sat up and looked over to the corner of her room where a black umbrella sat leaning up against the wall.

"I guess, it really all started with that." She pointed to the umbrella and Chat looked at it in surprise, recognizing it instantly. "After I treated him so terribly when we first met, he offered me his umbrella even though he'd be without one. He had this look in his eyes, this, something, that just drew me to him instantly. He wasn't anything like what I expected or originally thought, and now that I've had the chance to really get to know him, I know that he's so much more than the face that everyone sees."

She frowned slightly, glancing towards her window, "I hope he's doing okay. All week his bodyguard has been practically escorting him into school because of how bad the paparazzi have gotten. He doesn't deserve to be treated that way. I hate that everyone forgets that he's not just a model or a face on a magazine, he's a person who just wants to be able to hang out with his friends without causing a riot."

"Well, you probably aren't wrong." He managed to get out normally, his eyes glued to the beautiful girl who saw past the glamor and name to who he was underneath. She was probably the only girl in all of Paris who really did.

"He's lucky." He said simply, drawing her attention instantly, "That someone as beautiful inside as she is outside, cares about someone like him at all."

She smiled at him, "He needs people to care about him, not just fawn over him or want to be his friend because he's famous." She let out a soft sigh, "Maybe one day he'll start to see me the way I see him, but even if he never notices me, my feelings will never change. That I can promise you."

'Y-You're very sweet Adrien, but trust me, you'd never notice me as my civilian self. That I can promise you.'

"Ladybug." He whispered, feeling like everything in the world was falling into place.

"Ladybug?" Marinette repeated confused.

He stared into her eyes, the same beautiful bluebell eyes that had captured his heart without her even knowing it. He had to correct her, just like he had before.

"You're wrong you know." He said, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between them.

"Kitty I have no idea what you are talking about." She deadpanned seriously.

He grinned. He wasn't going to keep it from her that he knew, and at the same time, he was going to make sure she knew the truth too. "You're not someone who is easily overlooked. You are beautiful and kind, and caring." He motioned to her wall of designs, "You are crazy talented," he smiled softly, "and you are amazing exactly the way you are now."

He reached up and cupped her cheek, his fingertips resting along the space where her mask would be, not knowing when his feet had carried him over to her. Her eyes widened as she instinctively moved back, her voice shaking, "Y-You're very sweet Kitty but..." she stopped, her voice catching as a lump formed. This... this was just like the conversation she had just had with...

He saw the realization fill her eyes, and told her again, "You may wear a mask, but you are still you. The only difference is a few spots."

It came out as nothing more than a whisper, "Adrien."

He held her face in his hands, making sure she understood, "I told you I had pretty good eyesight."

Her shock turned to pure joy, her eyes tearing up as she said it excitedly, "ADRIEN!" She threw her arms around his neck and he held her instantly, reveling in the way they fit perfectly against each other.

"That went better than I thought." He happily mused out loud.

She pulled back and her face turned white right in front of him, "Oh my god. OH MY GOD! I JUST TOLD ADRIEN HOW I FELT!"

He stood unmoving, watching as she started pacing around her room, rambling so quickly about... the end of the world? She pulled on her pigtails, groaning before adding it nearly in tears, "Oh my god my life is over."

He chuckled softly, watching as she crouched into herself. He went over and crouched in front of her, "I don't think this is going to cause the end of the world, and your life is nowhere near over purrincess."

She shot him a glare at the pun, but he merely grinned, "What? It's true. I think this was a miraculous way to find each other, don't you?"

He told her a little softer, feeling his cheeks warm, "And, I love you too, with or without your spots."

She blushed nearly scarlet, asking with a small frown, "But, you never,"

"Fought with myself, about the most courageous, most daring, girl I've ever met and the beautifully kind, most amazing friend I've ever had?" He told her the truth, "More than once, and for a lot longer than you'd probably believe."

"Try me." She said instantly.

"Adrien the Fragrance." He said sheepishly, watching her eyes widen in shock. "You helped me then too. For hours we ran around Paris, and the whole time I kept thinking, this girl is amazing. I can't believe she's doing this for me. I'm literally dragging her into the chaos and she's not the least bit affected." He started to smirk, "And in her pajamas no less!"

Her face burned and she pushed him hard on the shoulder, watching with immense satisfaction as he fell straight on his behind, "Serves you right for teasing!"

He smiled at her lovingly, acting as though nothing had happened, "That was the first time I realized that being around you made me feel different than I did with anyone else. I was, incredibly happy, despite everything that was going on, and ever since then, I noticed it happening more and more. As long as you were around, nothing could ruin my day."

He moved to his knees leaning towards her so he could rest his forehead against hers, "You've always been the direction my compass has pointed me to, if... if I'm not too late."

He felt her soft lips press against his with a passion that sparked every nerve ending to life. His hands found her waist and she moved closer, practically sitting in his lap as she kissed him senseless.

Her hands moved through his hair, causing a deep rumble through his chest as he felt his way up her back. She arched into him, rising up slightly so that she was in control of the kiss, and he wasn't complaining. The tips of his claws cut into the ties holding her hair, and some small part of his brain that was still registering information warned him to be careful or he'd end up hurting her by accident. That was the last thing he wanted.

He whispered it quickly against her lips, "Plagg claws in." His transformation dropped but his lips were back on hers before it fell completely. He put his now clawless hand to the back of her neck, feeling her loose tresses skim like silk across the back of his hand. She hummed appreciatively, adding fuel to the wild fire already raging inside him.

Tikki had her hand over Plagg's mouth, practically holding him in a headlock to keep him quiet as he squirmed to get away from her. The second he was free of the ring, she had pounced. She knew he'd ruin this moment for her and she would NOT let him ruin what she had been waiting over a year for!

She shushed him again as he mumbled unintelligibly, probably something along the lines about gross emotions and needing camembert. She was overjoyed watching their chosen get lost in each other, oblivious to the world around them.

...Bonus...

Neither of them are sure of when they moved to the chaise from the floor, but it sure was more comfortable.

"IT'S COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!" Plagg yelled at Adrien, who merely rolled his eyes and tightened his hold on his new girlfriend lying in his arms, both of them trying to catch their breath. Marinette giggled, making his smile turn loving as he looked at where she had her head resting on his chest. The second their eyes made contact, she gave him another small kiss that made his heart flutter all over again.

"TWO HOURS! YOU'VE BEEN KISSING FOR TWO HOURS!" Plagg whined angrily before they could start again, "WHAT ABOUT MY CHEESE!?"

[azoteas]

How to organize your book in chapters

Chapters are divisions made to facilitate the reading by making clear the order of events. How to organize your book in chapters? There is no specific answer.

Literature is an open world, not like science or math which have specific detailed instructions to end in a specific final product. When you write you have no limits and if you avoid ordinary you will be an innovative rather than a rebel. In science hey keep finding new stuff every year, in literature we make up new stuff every year.

Every book is different and so every book has different kinds of chapters. There are chapters that have only one page, fifty pages or a hundred pages. There are books that also contain parts and scenes apart from chapters. There are even books with no chapters at all! Just one long story without pause.

Chapters should flow depending on how the story flows while you write. However, some tips on organizing book chapters will not hurt anyone!

Chapters can be use to switch

There are some stories that can be tell from different points of view or some stories that need long explanation from the past. Chapters can be used to switch from a character narrating to other, from one place to other or to switch from present to future, or present to past.

Chapter's name arouse curiosity

By naming the chapters you can intrigued the reader. It depends on you if you want to name them, not every book has its chapters named. You can use some random thing that happens in the chapter, the name of a new character introduced, a date, an hour, it depends on your story.

Chapters should have a purpose

A chapter's purpose can be to introduce the main character and its environment, to establish the main problem, to give an explanation about something, or just to narrate how the characters are getting closer to the climax.

We know that every story has a problem which will be fixed throughout the story. Chapters should all say something that contributes to the fixing of the problem in a direct or indirect way.

You can make a small problem for every chapter that will lead the characters to be one step closer to the fixing of the main problem. When the characters get over it, you'll know that you can finish the chapter and continue with the next.

Do not make of every chapter a small story, tho, unless you are making a kid's book. Remember to focus in a single main problem and give the story some excitement by making the characters face secondary problems, but do not get off the subject.

Chapter's end

The end of each chapter depends on your story. It can end with a switch, it can end with a "cliffhanger" for the reader to want to read more, it can end with a solution found to a small problem, among others.

Organize your ideas

If you already know what your story is going to be from the beginning to end, you can take your time before starting to write and organize your ideas. For example: Chapter one: Introduction of characters and environment Chapter two: Establish the main problem Chapter three: Explain what caused the problem (flashback) Chapter four: Main character decides to take action ...

Happy writing!

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[alextriestowritestuff]

Blood Of Olympus Read W/ Me

This was the worst book of the series by far. I almost didn’t finish it. I think my thoughts are going to be rather short but they’ll still be below the cut for spoiler reasons. There will also be Trials of Apollo spoilers so I highly suggest not reading this if you haven’t caught up with those books! Let’s get into it.

I’d like the start by saying what I like: Nico/Reyna POV. I loved their relationship (which I didn’t see coming at all) it was very big sis-little bro vibes. I love that Nico finally found a place and his budding relationship with Will. What’s funny is though I knew Will would be his love interest (You can’t avoid them in fanfic at all) I thought he’d be more like super sunshine/super happy and that would contrast with Nico’s emo nature. But he was just chill and was like Nico, stop being a dumbass, we’re friends. I think fanfic gave me a different impression of what he’d be like (Granted I never read the fics, just summaries) and I was surprised that he was not like that. It’s not bad or good, just pointing it out. 

Oh and Nico telling Percy he liked him and Percy just being like ‘say what?’ I didn’t expect Nico to actually fess up to that one but Percy’s reaction was gold. 

The best moment in this book is Reyna taking down Orion by herself. She was that BITCH. Correct me if I’m wrong but the only other person who defeated a giant by themselves was Percy right? In the Battle of Labyrinth when he fights Antaeus? I think Antaeus was a half-giant though because Percy, a demigod, managed to kill him without the help of a god. Anyway, Reyna was everything in that scene. Oh I lied, he took down Polybotes too. They’d be unstoppable together (though I love Percabeth). She was about to sacrifice herself too!! What a queen. I respect the crap out of her. UM Jason you really picked the wrong girl lmao. 

I appreciated the Thalia cameo (because again, I didn’t re-read the Lost Hero so I haven’t seen her since the last time I read the PJO series) and the mention of Zoe. I hope Kenzie didn’t really die though, I liked her. 

And that’s all the good I have to say about it. Now for the bad...so much bad.

So after thinking about it, I realize that what makes HoO so different from its predecessor series is that there’s no consequences. The closest we got to consequences was Annabeth and Percy falling into Tartarus because they weren’t saved in time. No one important (protagonist/good guys side) died. Leo was resurrected (And I looked it up and found out that he came to Camp in the Trials of Apollo series so everyone knows he’s alive). Even for the Tartarus one, we didn’t even get a PTSD arc. It would’ve been helpful to have Percy or Annabeth’s POV in this book to wrap up that subplot. Instead we get two lines about their time in Tartarus and when Percy brings it up, Annabeth tells him not to mention it. So no PTSD arc. Got it. But we can just casually mention that Octavian committed suicide (which I don’t care for that ending at all).  Right.

The HoO books are boring because there’s no consequences. I never felt true fear apart from Percy/Annabeth being in Tartarus. In the Last Olympian, mortals were put to sleep, Annabeth was gravely injured, Silena and Beckendorf died. Luke and Ethan died. There was no magical save for them. Blood of Olympus had NO stakes, coupled with a weak, slightly developed new characters made it a bad series imo. It also doesn’t deliver on the questions posed in the book.

Hazel’s curse is still active, no descendant of Neptune has taken it away. I read the wiki summary for every book of the Trials of Apollo (The last one isn’t out yet) and there’s no mention of her curse being lifted. I think Frank’s stick is resolved imo being that it’s safe in the fireproof pouch but for some readers, they don’t think that’s resolved. Kym told Percy he’d have to face his fatal flaw. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t feel as though he did. Percy also never helped Leo find Calypso but Ig that’s null because he never got the chance to. Also is Black Jack, Frank’s grandmother, Hylla okay? Orion said Hylla got away but I was hoping for another cameo. 

Let’s talk about the villains/the entire quest of the Seven. The quest was boring, Nico/Reyna/Hedge’s quest was 100x more interesting and they were transporting a freaking statue. The quest of the Seven was fight this minor god/villain who is working for Gaea who promised them something (Even Jason has a line where he makes fun of this), outsmart/fight them, get to Athens where all the monsters are. Percy and Annabeth’s blood awakens Gaea. The gods come down which makes me angry because most of them weren’t helpful throughout the series. Poseidon wasn’t in this series at all. He didn’t even send a symbol or talk to his son who went missing. I’m pissed that the battle against Gaea wasn’t even in Athens! I’m pissed that they got slapped to New York, like what? The gods really couldn’t poof them back there, they gave some excuse but it was still bs. But I guess Rick needed Argo II to get back to NY so Leo can turn festus back into a dragon. But anyway, the gods come down, the demigods work with to defeat the giants in less than two pages. The giants that were poised as a massive threat for four books straight. Defeated in mere minutes. We don’t even get a cool battle description, they just hack and slash at them and they’re dead. Huh? 

Percy, Annabeth, Hazel, and Frank were reduced to background characters and I understand they don’t have a POV but I never felt that characters who didn’t have a POV in a certain book were ever forgotten/not utilized. They didn’t really get to do anything. 

We also don’t really see the Roman and Greek gods all that much. I know they’re the same people, different Greek and Roman personalities. But like I thought their Roman side could be seen a bit more but they were having difficulty maintain one persona throughout the whole series. I can tell you what the Greek gods are like and how they interact w/ each other based on the throne room scenes/anytime they help demigods in PJO/HoO. But Roman gods as whole? I can’t tell you how they even interact with each other. 

But wait, it gets worse. There’s not even a formal recognition thing like there was at the end of the Last Olympian (where Percy is offered godhood and Annabeth is given position of architect) there’s a little meeting with the gods and the Seven in which Jason is like give minor gods shrine and the gods aren’t really all that interested in what he has to say. There’s no thank you demigods. No, thanks Annabeth and Percy for literally going through Tartarus and Hazel for sacrificing yourself at 13 back in the 1940s. And the rest of them sacrificed something too. Like damn, no wonder why Luke was always like the gods don’t care about their kids. 

Gaea was built up to be a big bad (honestly not really, she talked trash the entire time/sent people to do her work) and the woman is easily overpowered by the three demigods. She’s not even awake for 20 minutes and she goes down. WHAT?? 

Overall, it was anti-climatic and totally did a 180 on everything else established in this series-the fact that Gaea was such a major foe and turned out not to be (that SEVEN demigods had to take her down, not just 1 like Percy’s prophecy) and the giants were to be feared too but they get taken down. At 200 pages in, I dead ass wanted to DNF, it was so boring. I gave it a one star because although the good I mentioned was really great, it doesn’t save the book. So for me, this series had every book be 3 stars or under except House of Hades. 5 books and I only really was able to like one and get through it easily and it still had issues. Like what?

Lastly, I want to touch on Jason. I still think he’s bland though I appreciated him giving Nico a hug at the end there. Again from ToA/being spoiled over the years, I learned that Jason died and I won’t be reading ToA but I read the summary of the book where he died and um, wow. I don’t feel anything for his death but the fact that he and Piper broke up sent me into a laughing/anger rage. Laughing because they really said ‘I love you’ at the end of BoO and they didn’t even make it a year lmao. And the fact that PIPER, miss always insecure in her relationship with him, McLean broke up with HIM. WOOOOOW. But it made mad because I listened to her complain/fawn over Jason for 4 freaking books (not counting tSoN) for NO REASON cuz they ended up breaking up. Overall, I appreciated what Jason, Hazel, Frank, and Piper did in the HoO series because they were helpful but I couldn’t connect with their characters. I’ll admit that in BoO we got a little bit more bonding between characters which is what I asked for in my last read with me and I like the Percy/Jason scene underwater and Piper/Annabeth scene from the beginning. I do think some relationships were summarized when they could’ve been shown--i.e. Annabeth/Reyna/Piper friendship but they have potential. 

The bonding was good, it was just too late. It should’ve happened in MoA/HoH as well. Random but I also hate how Leo was treated (esp. by Jason and Piper) throughout the series and I’m glad he got out of that mess. He was reduced to a deus ex mechanic and that wasn’t cool. The Seven wouldn’t have been able to do this quest without him. 

Sooo I guess this is it. I don’t think I’m going to read another Rick Riordan book again unless I hear something drastic happens to Percy or Annabeth/Any of the PJO characters and Reyna. I’m strongly reconsidering removing him as my fav author. I still love the PJO series but this one was not it. I don’t know if Rick was on a tight deadline for these HoO books but it was just poorly executed. I don’t regret reading the series, I think reading HoH was worth all the time I spent reading this series. I wish I had just read a summary of tSoN and MoA, especially because I already read them years ago and knew I wasn’t into them from my first read. I wasted my own time by doing that. So if I had done that I would’ve gotten to just read HoH and then only be disappointed by BoO as opposed to three books. It is what it is. It’s nice to be in the loop because I always see these things about HoO characters and spoilers so now I know how it went down. 

But that’s it guys, thank you for reading this entire thread and the ones before it. I have a lot of opinions and I don’t think I’m in the minority by saying I didn’t like this series overall. I will get back to my writeblr content and I will leave you guys with my final ratings for the series (My rating system may seem generous compared to my read with me thoughts but I personally don’t give less than 3 stars to books that plot wise made sense. It may not be the most compelling plot or have the best characters but if it made coherent sense, I have to give it at least a 3.) :

The Lost Hero: This score is based off of my original reading in 2012/2013 and my thoughts on the main characters in that book, I give this a 3/5 stars

The Son of Neptune: 3/5

The Mark of Athena: 2/5

The House of Hades: 4.5/5

The Blood of Olympus: 2/5 

Worst book of the series: Mark of Athena (Blood Olympus is a close tie but the Nico/Reyna really saves it from this spot) and best book- House of Hades. 

[buildarocketboys]

Books read 2020: Reviews (1-20)

Decided to write a little review/overview for all the books I’ve read this year. Mostly just for personal record but please feel free to message me about any of these books!

1. Amberlough by Lara Elena Donnelly (Jan 6th – Jan 13th) 8 days 400 pages

I loved this whole trilogy, but this might have been my favourite of all three. I loved the setting (the main reason, apart from the queer characters, why I wanted to read this book) which is a fantasy setting based on the dying days of Berlin during the Weimar Republic. Loved this setting (especially the cabaret/music hall part) and it’s the only book that really features it. I also enjoy (or…find compelling, enjoy might not quite be right since there’s some very ‘yowch’ descriptions regarding torture/being beaten up) the story/plot most in this one, I was on the edge of my seat wanting to know what happened next…

2. Maurice by E.M. Forster (Nov 17th – Jan 21st) 256 pages

This is the only kind of cheat I have in here, because yes I did start reading it in November 2019, but I read the vast majority of it in 2020. I’d wanted to read it for ages because it’s such a gay classic and there were many sections (sentences, paragraphs) that I related to heavily, not even always as a queer person, but in that way that the best books get at the heart of something about the human experience in a way that’s intensely relatable to the reader. I think I found the romance elements kind of anticlimactic overall but maybe that’s kind of the point? It’s a happy ending, but in a very quiet way. (I think, it has been nearly a year since I read it!)

3. East, West by Salman Rushdie (Jan 17th – Jan 24th) 8 days 224 pages

I started reading this to compare it with its Spanish translation for my Postcolonialism in Translation essay lol. Some pretty interesting stories in here, also pretty sure this is the only collection of short stories I read this year, so it has that distinction. Not super my thing but acted as an enjoyable reading break in the local park while I was slogging my way through essays (and God do I miss that life now).

4. Affinity by Sarah Waters (Jan 24th – Jan 31st) 8 days 352 pages

This was the first of three Sarah Waters books I read this year. I have now read all of her work, and I enjoyed this one a lot – very much a ghost story. It wasn’t my favourite, but definitely sits nicely in the middle.

5. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (Jan 31st – Feb 5th) REREAD 6 days 500 pages

Reread this while on a trip to York, when stuff like that was still possible. As good as ever. I love Time Traveler’s Wife not for the romance (which is…interesting, but personally I don’t find it exactly enjoyable and the characters aren’t particularly likable or relatable for me) but for the prose and the structure. The back-and-forth structure of the book (travelling through time, Henry – and Clare – at different points in their life) makes for a breathtakingly constructed plot and I love it more every time. Some of the prose and stuff the characters talk about are kind of pretentious but I’m kind of pretentious myself (I discovered  Rilke through TTW) and a lot of it has stuck in my brain, to the point that 10 months later I keep thinking about it and kind of want to read it yet again.

6. Armistice by Lara Elena Donnelly (Feb 5th – Feb 9th) 5 days 400 pages

I really enjoyed this sequel, I loved exploring the rest of the world, I loved the interaction between characters who either hadn’t met before, hadn’t seen each other in years (there’s a time jump between Amberlough and Armistice) and brand new characters (who were mostly equally as compelling/lovable). A worthy sequel.

7. Consider the Fork: A History of How We Cook and Eat by Bee Wilson (Feb 13th – Feb 24th) 12 days 327 pages

My thing (at least non-fiction-wise) this year has been books about food and food history, and this is the first of those on this list. It was pretty good, very interesting. I have trouble retaining information from non-fiction books so I only remember it in the broadest strokes (and remember reading it in the Hygge café in Sheffield which was really cool and I hope it’s survived the pandemic) but it was a really eye-opening look into different appliances/tools/processes/spaces used throughout history and in different parts of the world when it comes to food and cooking.

8. Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution by Shiri Eisner (Feb 25th – Mar 11th) 16 days 352 pages

I read this in the period just before everything started shutting down and the day I finished it (incidentally my girlfriend’s birthday) was more or less the start of the lockdown for us, so that’s my prevailing memory of this book. It was a very good, enlightening look into bi politics and what we (I, as a white gentile especially) could do better. But again, I don’t remember it in great detail because I was more preoccupied with what was happening around it.

9. Solitaire by Alice Oseman (Mar 14th – Mar 16th) 3 days 392 pages

This was pretty good but I definitely read most YA (well, reality-based YA) as an easy, quick read that doesn’t challenge me too much, so I don’t have too much to say about it. It was nice to read about the Heartstopper characters

10. What If It’s Us by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera (Mar 17th – Mar 20th) 4 days 437 pages

Again, early lockdown YA so basically brain popcorn for me. That’s not a bad thing though.

11. The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters (Mar 20th – Mar 30th) 11 days 512 pages

This was my least favourite of the Sarah Waters books I read this year, and probably not coincidentally, the only book of hers without explicit queer characters. But still a pretty good scary story.

12. Amnesty by Lara Elena Donnelly (Apr 1st – April 6th) 6 days 384 pages

The last in the trilogy. I still liked it very much, but not as much as the first two books. I think endings to a trilogy are hard to get right. I feel like there was too much focus on one character and his predicament (and while I enjoyed his ending and happily ever after with probably m favourite character of the series), I wasn’t as compelled by this one as I was by the other two.

13. Lisey’s Story by Stephen King (Apr 6th – Apr 15th)  10 days 513 pages

My first Stephen King! I actually really enjoyed this, especially the scary fantasy dream world thing. It wasn’t too scary for me (I am a big scaredy cat who’s just dipping my toe into horror novels since I figure reading horror is moderately less scary than watching it) and just overall pretty good.

14. This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone (Apr 16th – Apr 20th) 5 days 209 pages

Loved this! The meandering almost poetry of it, the epic enemies to lovers, the weird admixture of sci fi and larger than life fantasy concepts (and beings!). Will definitely return to this one again.

15. Five Hundred Mile Walkies by Mark Wallington (Apr 21st – Apr 25th) REREAD 5 days 224 pages

I read this as a young teenager and found it hilarious. It was one of my dad’s books (he might even have recommended it to me, although I did have a habit of reading anything and everything that was in the bookcase – Memoirs of a Geisha at about 13, anyone?) and I laughed out loud practically every page. The gist of it is that Mark takes his sister’s (or sister’s ex??) dog, Boogie and goes to walk the entire 500 miles of the South West coast path. I loved this anyway because I loved the South West (especially Cornwall) and love seeing it through someone else’s eyes. So I reread it and I still enjoyed it, but didn’t find it as rip roaringly hilarious as I used to. Guess your sense of humour changes as you grow up, who knew?

16. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café by Fannie Flagg (Apr 27th – May 10th) 14 days 416 pages

I’ll be honest, I struggled with this one. I’m not sure if it was the setting (historically, geographically, linguistically) that put me off or the way it was written or what. I enjoyed the story but it just wasn’t really my thing.

17. The Night Watch by Sarah Waters (May 11th – May 17th) 7 days 528 pages

My final Sarah Waters book (until she writes more! *fingers crossed*) and definitely my favourite of the ones I read this year. Set during the Blitz in London, it’s pretty much straight up historical fiction, and I enjoyed it very much. I think part of it was I related heavily to the characters going through this dramatic time in history, because, you know, pandemic! There were certain passages that really connected with me/felt like an echo of today in a way that was sort of comforting, I guess.

18. Doctor Who: The Maze of Doom by David Solomons (May 18th – May 19th) 2 days 272 pages

A fun, quick and easy Doctor Who romp. Not much to say about this one.

19. Room by Emma Donoghue (May 19th – May 20th) 2 days 321 pages

Possibly the opposite of the previous. If you know anything about Room (the book or the film, which I actually watched years ago) then you know the subject matter is pretty dark and harrowing. Because it’s told through the eyes of a child however, I found it pretty easy (in terms of speed rather than subject matter) to get through and read it in about 24 hours. It’s super compelling too.

20. The Psychology of Time Travel by Kate Mascarenhas (June 6th – June 11th) 6 days 372 pages

This, as far as I remember, was just a random one that I managed to pick up (metaphorically since I read this as an ebook) but it was pretty good. Possibly my favourite random discovery of the year, an interesting look on time travel and its consequences, based around the discovery/invention of time travel by four women scientists in the 1960s (I think) and how it affects the rest of their lives.

[gameofdrarry]

Drarropoly 2020 Team Activity 2: Salazar’s Unending Chalice

Drarropoly is now in full swing, and our players are writing their hearts out as they make their ways around our Drarry-themed monopoly board. Each space has a prompt with different levels, each with different requirements, and players can earn points in a variety of ways. They can write or create art for these prompts, commenting and reccing gets points, and new this year, podficcers are welcome in Drarropoly!

Players are sorted and assigned at random to four different teams. All team activities and discussions are completely optional but can yield extra points to help win the game! These creative team activities are where players can imagine new, fun headcanons in the Harry Potter universe and perhaps a few stories of their own!

Team Activity 2: Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me The Discovering of the Discoveries

The leaders of the Hogwarts Unified Mavens of Protection (also known by their acronym, H.U.M.P.) are pleased to announce that our research teams have released their information as to how they obtained their newly discovered artifacts. Each team was kind enough to provide images depicting the locations of each relic as well, along with a short description of the when where and how of discovering it came about!

For those that would also like to join one of our Relic Investigation and Observation Teams (or R.I.O.T.s,) please check the links below before any irritable owls decide to eat this part of the report.

Signups are from Nov 1 - Jan 22, follow this link to sign up! Still have questions? Follow this link to read our full rules and FAQ!

Team Activity 1

Dear H.U.M.P.,

Please find enclosed our documented research and findings in relation to the artifact known as Salazar’s Unending Chalice. While complete documents are enclosed for archival purposes, our latest research endeavour began with pages from one of Merlin’s many lost journals that we found on a previous expedition. You’ll find copies of the relevant pages enclosed with the packet provided.

Merlin’s journal, this one going into detail describing the early foundation and teaching at Hogwarts itself, gave us clues that the artifact, long thought to be merely rumored as a joke made up by Salazar Slytherin himself, actually existed. Merlin made mention throughout the journal of the Chalice in precise detail, often lamenting the many times he drunkenly stole borrowed the Chalice only to find it barren of actual alcohol anything he enjoyed.

Thanks to his writings, however, we had proof that the Chalice did exist, and so our team set off to Hogwarts, with permission from the current Headmistresses, and began to search the Slytherin common room. There we were able to find information from an absolutely barmy helpful portrait. The former Slytherin, Phineas Nigellus Black, led us on a wild goose chase throughout three towers and shared with us that the knowledge of the Chalice’s whereabouts would lie with the ghost known as the Bloody Baron. To summarize our following journey after discussions with the fucking terrifying helpful Baron due to there not being enough time or Firewhiskey in the world to tell you everything length restrictions, all you need know for now is that we conducted a DISGUSTING rigorous examination of the place known as the Chamber of Secrets.

Structural damage that occurred in 1992 rendered many rooms destroyed with many artifacts lost. At the time we assumed the Chalice may have been among the losses caused by Harry FUCKING Potter extenuating circumstances, and so we hesitantly labeled the expedition as a failure and returned to the Slytherin common room to get drunk as shit question Phineas Black once more.

While three of our team members argued discussed matters with the portrait, a student came to us with information on what she believed was the Chalice we were looking for.

She found it because some fucking Mers pointed it out where it was resting on the bottom of the lake. It was right in view of the glass windows below the second bookcase with all the alchemy books which was right in view of us the entire time! Right in PLAIN SIGHT and we didn’t even SEE IT and instead some FUCKING KID

The merpeople of the Great Lake attracted her attention to pass on what they knew of a mysterious object with Slytherin’s Crest. Salazar Slytherin, a known polyglot who spoke multiple magical languages, is well known in history to the mer even today.

So, to state simply, our mission is finally fucking over was a success, and we look forward to hearing back from you after verifying the authenticity of the Chalice.

With Kind Regards,

Artifact Retrieval Team 3

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

Know My Name. By Chanel Miller. New York: Viking, 2019.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: memoir

Part of a Series? No.

Summary: She was known to the world as Emily Doe when she stunned millions with a letter. Brock Turner had been sentenced to just six months in county jail after he was found sexually assaulting her on Stanford’s campus. Her victim impact statement was posted on BuzzFeed, where it instantly went viral–viewed by eleven million people within four days, it was translated globally and read on the floor of Congress; it inspired changes in California law and the recall of the judge in the case. Thousands wrote to say that she had given them the courage to share their own experiences of assault for the first time. Now she reclaims her identity to tell her story of trauma, transcendence, and the power of words. It was the perfect case, in many ways–there were eyewitnesses, Turner ran away, physical evidence was immediately secured. But her struggles with isolation and shame during the aftermath and the trial reveal the oppression victims face in even the best-case scenarios. Her story illuminates a culture biased to protect perpetrators, indicts a criminal justice system designed to fail the most vulnerable, and, ultimately, shines with the courage required to move through suffering and live a full and beautiful life.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: descriptions of sexual assault and violence, trauma

Since this book is non-fiction (and thus, has no plot or characters), this review will be structured a little differently than usual.

I first became aware of this book after hearing YouTuber Cindy (readwithcindy) gush about it in one of her monthly wrap-ups. Because I am passionate about women’s rights, feminism, and sexual assault survivor advocacy, I thought Know My Name would be an illuminating read. Though I do admire Miller’s courage and I do think her story is important and deserves to be told, I do not think this memoir was as strong as it could have been. Don’t get me wrong - there are some brilliant moments in this book. Any time Miller describes what her emotions were like during different parts of the investigation and trial process, as well as the moments when she links her personal experience to broader social phenomena (such as rape culture, sexism, etc.)... all of those were brilliant. For example, I really liked how she debunked the idea that a person can be either bad or good when talking about Brock Turner’s character witnesses; Miller rather put emphasis on the fact that a person can be both someone who does charity work or cares for friends and someone who commits sexual assault (p. 194). I also really liked how she described her emotions during the trial and went through what it was like to essentially be gaslighted by the court system. It shed a light on an experience that many, many victims never even get to, while also uncovering systemic problems. So, if all that is good, why didn’t I give this memoir a higher rating?

Craft.

The first thing that struck me was the inclusion of seemingly “superfluous” events which didn’t seem to have much significance in the memoir as a whole. In addition to descriptions of what it was like going through a trial, there are also sections that are more or less mundane - an account of Miller flying across the country to attend art class, living in Philly and doing stand-up comedy, going scuba diving with her boyfriend in the Philippines. On the one hand, I think it was a good attempt to make Miller come across like more than a victim - with all these events, she shows the reader that she has a life and is a person with interests, not just a woman who was assaulted. However, Miller had the tendency to let readers infer significance or suggest that an experience was more profound for her than it comes across to the reader. For example, her account of going scuba diving feels very much like padding: there are multiple pages describing going to the Philippines and learning to scuba dive, but the most reflection we get is the vague idea that Miller had to learn to “listen to her body” (without connecting the concept to the healing process, p. 140) and a declaration that living through the trial was akin to needing emergency air and using a backup regulator (p. 141). There are also random things that seem to make no sense at all, like the brief description of a man having a seizure on a plane (all Miller says is that she identifies with the family’s wish for privacy, but the point is so brief that I questioned if the anecdote was needed at all). As a result, the book felt padded and overwritten.

The second thing that struck me was the seeming lack of structure. While I do think that form can match function in writing, and an aimless, loose structure could have been used to mirror the aimless feeling of Miller’s life post-assault (or even the directionless feelings associated with constantly putting off the trial), I don’t think Miller executed this technique well. Instead, it felt like she was writing things in order as she thought of them or the order in which they happened without much regard for relevance. For example, Miller shifts from descriptions preparing for the trial to descriptions of her travels to having lunch with a friend without much transition or thought as to how one section of her chapter leads into the next (or how the chapters lead into one another). While I can understand a chronological narrative, I don’t think it quite works here because Miller tends to wander from point to point without much thought as to how individual pieces are coming together as a whole. The only places where I think her structure works is in the description of being cross-examined by the defense and the jury’s verdict, and that’s because they were more extended and unbroken than any of the other “scenes” in her book. Additionally, she includes some bits at the end of her book about Christine Ford, Donald Trump, Philando Castile, the #MeToo movement, etc., and while all these things felt thematically relevant to her story, she seemed to move through them too quickly for her commentary to have a real impact on me as a reader.

The third thing that struck me was Miller’s prose. Miller pads her writing with a lot of metaphors and adjectives, and for me, the attempts to make her book feel poetic or artistic only distracted from her story. For example, Miller likes to use “poetic” language to give readers a feel for what a setting was like (the court room, the hospital, the streets of Philly, etc.), but I think many of her sentences could have been condensed. For example, she uses ants to describe her surroundings three times in a single chapter (Ch. 4), and tends to put in multiple descriptors for things which don’t really have much significance in her story, even from a form=function perspective (such as the “stacked squares of gridded lights” on buildings and “warm steam” from the streets of Philly).

Overall, I found Know My Name to be a mixed bag. While I do think Miller wrote a brilliant, impactful victim statement, and some of her insights in her memoir are valuable, I ultimately think the book could have been condensed and more tightly (or at least “purposefully”) structured. In my opinion, the most valuable parts of this book are the descriptions of her emotions during the trial, the “fight” with Stanford after the trial, and the affirming words for victims that are peppered throughout the memoir as a whole. But that’s just me - I do recommend that readers make the decision for themselves, and if others find value in this memoir, then that’s what really matters.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 39

AO3 link here

He’s gotten pretty settled in with his coworkers at Stark Industries a month into the job, and it’s absolutely stunningly hot, like the air’s drenched, woolen, nearly physical as it fills every little space, but Bucky finds himself going out for lunch. That happens to him sometimes, the need to not be around people, forced to make conversation, to joke and be fine. Because sometimes, still, he isn’t fine; he came home with a weight on his shoulders that can be lighter certain days and heavier others but which is always there, and he’s trying, still, to be okay with that.

He usually eats on the later side, so the afternoon concert is already nearing its close though the music is still apparent from the spot he’s chosen. The file he’s brought with him is only a prop. He keeps it open on the bench beside him but doesn’t really look at it, staring around instead as he unwraps the sandwich he bought.

He’ll try to remember to call Steve tonight, because his best friend made him promise to phone when he feels like this, but he already feels a little guilty about it. He knows that Steve’s got his back, the same way he’ll always have Steve’s, but the Carters are working on adopting their little girl next month - Rose is her name, Steve said - and he can tell that the two of them are stretched pretty thin so he doesn’t want to add on. He has an appointment with his shrink next week, and he could probably make it sooner if he needed it, but this feels like the sort of thing he should be able to handle by himself.

Despite the time that’s passed - six years since Steve and Peggy brought him back, more than ten since whatever happened down in that lab - he hasn’t quite grown used to the ways in which he came home different. If anything, he’s reached a point of annoyance with himself that he’s had all this time and all this help, and nevertheless can find himself overcome by something as simple as a crowd, a noisy room. He remembers by now being the life of the party, ready with a quick remark, lighting girls’ cigarettes with a flick of his wrist and a flash of a grin. He remembers following Steve’s good-hearted, hairbrained schemes throughout their childhood, coming up with schemes of his own, talking their way out of trouble with teachers or the cops on the beat (even if he had to rest his whole weight on Steve’s toes to keep his big mouth closed). But that doesn’t feel like him anymore, and it grates on him that he can’t figure out how to make it be.

He shakes his head at himself, picking a couple of fallen scraps of roast beef from the sandwich wrappings before balling up the wax paper. If he still feels like this at the end of the day, he has the number that Charlie Gibbs gave him before he left Washington, the one answered by a man Charlie describes as “someone who saw a thing or two over there” and who can gather more like them to drink a beer and talk things over if they need to.

In the meantime, there’s still fifteen minutes before he has to get back to the office, and he tips his face upward, limbs sprawling out a little in relaxation as he soaks in the sun. It always makes him feel sort of stupid to have these sorts of moments, the overwhelming of his mind, during the summer, as if the sunshine and freedom should drive them away. But the warmth feels so good, too, that he tries not to think about that, tries to just lean back and enjoy.

When he brings his chin down again, his gaze catches on the bench across the plaza from his. The woman there - one hand holding open a book, the other her own sandwich, a thumb that he can’t quite track wiping away a drip of mustard from the corner of her mouth - is familiar. He stares awkwardly for a moment, trying to place her. She glances up as she tries to flip a page with a thumb (he assumes her clean one) and gives a slight raise of her sandwich in his direction in recognition.

He can picture, like a photograph, the smile he might have given her before the war, cocky, glinting sideways and a bit suggestive. Now he settles for a nod and a tip of his hat, tucks his hands in his pockets and starts walking back.

It’s only as he pushes through the glass doors into the Stark Industries building that he remembers where he’s seen her before: lab coat and safety glasses on, silky dark hair (longer than was truly fashionable) pinned back, in one of the labs during his tour of the building. “The chem fellas, for what they’re worth,” said the guy showing him around, swaggering onward with barely a glance. But Bucky had looked back, caught a glimpse of a raised middle finger.

He sort of wants to ask her whether it was for the “fellas” when she was clearly standing right there, or if she just feels that strongly about chemistry.

She’s there again the next day, sitting on the same bench, holding a different book, Frances Parkinson Keyes’s The Royal Box. He’s actually read this one at Peggy’s recommendation, but he doesn’t say anything, just touches the brim of his hat when he stands. She’s wearing a hat today too, a wide tan straw thing that shades her face, and she touches her brim back at him.

He finds himself grinning as he stuff his hands into his pockets and starts heading back.

He’s actually feeling better on the third day after a night out with Charlie Gibbs’s friends (well, they might even be his friends at this point) and an invitation from Becca to come over to her place for dinner Saturday. He’d wondered when he moved back if being around his family, especially the new generation and their energy, might be too much. But it’s actually invigorating to be around them, to be used as a climbing structure, given random hugs and sticky kisses to his cheeks. He never laughs as hard as he does when Jimmy tells some story about the indignations of his school day or Baby falls unconsciously into an impression of her grandmother. And the youngest is nearly four months now, and Becca swears he smiles all the time, so that’ll be nice to see.

So there’s no real reason he strolls out into the July heat instead of staying in his office, no reason his feet lead him once again to Bryant Park. No reason he stops for only a second, then keeps walking over when he sees a familiar figure sitting not on her regular bench, which is empty across the path, but instead on his.

“I thought that if we were going to keep meeting like this, we should at least know each other’s names,” she says, squinting up past him as he stands over her. Her voice is even, confident, but not strictly businesslike; there’s a smile at the edge of her words. She extends her hand to him. “Layla Mansour.”

He shakes, sits down beside her. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Really?” she says, so dubiously that he actually laughs.

“It’s the name I’ve got.”

“I seriously doubt it,” she says, “but there’ll be time for me to figure out the truth later.” And with that she unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite.

Three weeks later, Peggy requests that Howard send over a chemical engineer and a mechanical engineer to SHIELD headquarters at Camp Lehigh. Bucky’s an easy pick for the mechie considering they won’t even have to go through any extra security rigamarole, and when he hears they’re looking for someone else, he knows right away who to recommend.

Bucky’s never learned to drive, never had to and at some point decided he never really wanted to, so he’s particularly impressed by the ease with which Layla directs the borrowed Stark Industries sedan. She brought gloves with her, a crisp pair, white with bleach, but they’re draped over her handbag in the backseat. Her fingers on the wheel are not long, but they’re easily capable, with short, even nails.

“Where are you from?” he asks like clearing his throat, because he has the feeling that staring at her hands is not an entirely normal thing to do, and because he realizes that he actually doesn’t know. They’ve been talking over lunch for weeks now, but it’s been about preferred sandwich spots and the best things on the menu there, about work, and about her endless books. (She brings a new one nearly every day, and he has no idea how she’s able to read them all. Her library card gets more of a workout than anyone else’s he knows.)

Her mouth tucks in at the corners for just a second, then she says, too brightly even for her, “My grandparents were from Syria. Well, I suppose it would probably be Lebanon now, though, what with the borders shifting and all. And at the time that whole area the Ottoman Empire, but...Now you have the general idea of it, I imagine.”

“Oh,” he says. “No.” Not that he hasn’t noticed her dark, dark hair and intense eyes, but… “I meant, not too many people learn to drive in the city. And um—” He glances out the window, taps a finger on his knee, tries not to mumble. “You have a little bit of an accent. Only sometimes. You drop your r’s, and you’re the only person I’ve ever heard pronounce the number four the way that you do.”

A laugh startles out of her. “I’m from just outside of Boston. Watertown.”

“Don’t know it,” he says, shrugging, turning over in his head the way she says it: Watatown, Watuhtown. “The only thing I know about Boston is the Red Sox.”

Again, he’s impressed as she manages to execute a smooth turn off the main street even while eyeing him sharply. “Be careful what you say. I might live in New York now, but I’ve been going to games at Fenway since I was a kid.”

Bucky lifts his hands in defense. “Hey, they might not be here anymore, but I’m still for the Dodgers. We can hate on the Yanks together.”

“Excellent,” she says, with a grin. “That’s all I ever need,” and she pulls up to the guardhouse at the edge of the base.

He’d expected to be directed to whichever scientist they’d be working with, but Peggy’s actually there to greet them herself.

“We’re honored,” Bucky says, leaning to kiss her cheek.

“You had better be,” she responds. “Good to see you, Barnes.”

“You too, Carter.” He hasn’t seen them in probably a month and the reason why is written in the exhausted lines of her face. It strikes Bucky as a little odd that he hasn’t gotten to meet his friends’ child yet, doesn’t even know what she looks like, but it’s easy to tell how overwhelmed all the Carters are - perhaps the newest one most of all - so it just hasn’t been the right time. They hadn’t even made it into the city for Bucky’s mother’s Labor Day dinner, and Bucky knows how Steve feels about Labor Day and Winifred Barnes. That same exhaustion from Peggy’s face is obvious in Steve’s voice when they talk on the phone these days, catching up late at night when Steve has a minute between cleaning up whatever messes Rose had made during the day. Bucky hadn’t thought Steve could get tired like that since the serum, but apparently kids really do a number on you, or maybe it’s just Rose.

As evidence, when Peggy turns to introduce herself to Layla, Bucky spots a small patch of oatmeal dried onto the shoulder of her blouse. It’s just a little thing, the cream of it blending into her shirt anyway, but it’s large on Peggy Carter; he doesn’t know that he’s ever found her so disheveled, and he’s seen her in the middle of battle and during the frigid center of the winter and after days without a real bath. He’ll point it out to her later - hopefully she’ll have enough brainpower to care.

Still, when she puts out a hand and says, “Peggy Carter,” it’s with that familiar firmness.

“Dr. Layla Mansour.” He can see that Peggy appreciates that she doesn’t shy away from using the title she’s earned, or from shaking back with an equally firm hand. “What can we help with?”

Bucky likes that, himself. Still, when Steve calls that night and waits a whole five minutes before asking casually about Bucky’s new friend that Peggy told him about, Bucky pretends not to know what he’s talking about.

“We just eat lunch together sometimes,” he deflects, and decides he’ll overlook the way Steve’s “hmmm” sounds knowing and just a bit suggestive.

And they do eat lunch together, two or three times a week, sometimes more. As the autumn grows cooler, glancing quickly around before they bring up their favorite and least favorite colleagues, the projects that they’re working on, what they’re most excited about starting next. Inside the newly opened diner down the street during the winter, talking about what brought them to the careers they have now, finding out that Layla went to CCNY too but only for her PhD and a couple years ahead of Bucky - they never came across each other there.

(“Lucky thing we met each other now,” she says around the bite of chocolate cake she is pretending she hasn’t just stolen from him. He smiles, sideways and then more, and echoes, “Lucky thing.”)

They continue into the spring, eating as they walk beside each other in the blossoming warmth, trading stories about how things were for them growing up, about their families, about how home doesn’t feel quite the same when you come back all grown up. Hearing her talk about Ted Williams and Jackie Jensen, her hands flying as if she might snag a baseball out of the air at any moment while he grins at her side, he actually has to hold himself back from gaining some affection for the Red Sox.

(Once, in May, he asks her about her weekend plans and she says briefly that her mother's set her up with a date, the son of a friend of a friend, before turning to toss her bread crust to a couple of squirrels. He doesn't ask more, or mention that the few times his own mother has urged him to go out with nice girls from church or the daughters of her sewing circle friends, he's walked away thinking that somehow they were perfectly nice and normal and somehow not quite right. The next week, she tells him, a bit pointedly, that she's going to see 12 Angry Men over the weekend with some of the other girls from her rooming house.)

He brings her to Steve and Peggy’s for dinner in July. Though he’d seen her not even two weeks ago, at the barbecue that was allegedly for Independence Day (Steve was meant to have a different birthday now), Rosie drags him into the house as soon as they arrive, then squints at Layla, coming through the door behind him.

“Who is that?” she asks, not quietly. “Who are you?”

“We told you that Miss Layla would be coming,” Steve says, striding over, drying his hands on a towel. “Be polite, Rose.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Rose.” Layla steps forward, puts out a hand, doesn’t waver as she is eyed suspiciously and for a nearly uncomfortably long time. Finally, Rose shakes briefly before darting back off into the dining room.

Steve sighs. “Sorry about that,” he says. “I’m certainly happy to finally meet you.” His polite smile turns somewhat more broader and more youthful, teasing, as he catches Bucky’s glare that means don’t say something like—

“Bucky talks about you all the time,” Steve finishes angelically.

Layla looks over her shoulder at Bucky. “All the time, hmm, James?”

Her hair, normally worn back, is down around her face for dinner, set and curled up at the bottom. Bucky shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. He can’t count very well.”

“Perhaps you should move this conversation toward the table,” Peggy calls. “I think Rose is about to dig into this delicious meal herself, and I might join her.”

Steve and Bucky, mannered as they are, both gesture Layla ahead of them. Once she’s passed, Bucky punches Steve in the shoulder, hard enough that it might even bruise.

All the time? he mouths. Jackass.

Steve tucks his hand in his pockets, raising an eyebrow and mouthing back James?, grinning as they walk in together.

They don’t leave until nearly eleven, after they’ve eaten Steve’s delicious dinner (seriously, when did Steve learn to cook? Bucky can remember when he could practically only boil water, though that might have been because there was barely more in the house than that) and the absurdly rich chocolate mousse tart he made for dessert, after Rose had tucked herself into the chair in the living room where she could still listen to them and fallen asleep, after Steve’s told half a dozen stories to embarrass Bucky and Bucky had given just as good back and Peggy had topped them both.

Layla’s laugh is even lower than her speaking voice, Bucky’s noticed. He can recognize the start of it now, when it’s still a barely audible chuckle, and it makes him smile.

It’s a good night. He’s feeling good, even as he shifts the muscles of his back and shoulder a little. The arm isn’t as heavy as most, and it supports itself pretty well, has control nearly the way a flesh and blood one would, doesn’t just hang from his sleeve as a placeholder - Howard actually started a medical technology division after he worked with it. Still, when he wears it for this long, the discomfort becomes more and more obvious in the later hours.

“You can take it off, if you’d like,” says Layla.

He hadn’t even realized she’d noticed that little movement. Honestly, he hadn’t even realized she’d noticed the arm at all, which is stupid - she’s got two perfectly good eyes, she sees him nearly every day, but she’s never stared or asked prying questions or even looked purposefully away, making unwavering eye contact the way some people do to avoid seeming rude.

There had been that first day they were working at Lehigh, when one of the others on the team was walking across the lab to show them a delicate instrument, holding it carefully and eyeing Bucky’s hand where it was visible past his shirt cuff. “You sure you can handle this?” he’d said, like Bucky was going to thank him for his concern, before he’d crashed to the ground right as he passed where Layla was standing. Even Bucky’s eyes hadn’t tracked her foot flicking out across the floor, just catching the very end of the movement as she set it innocently back where it had been. “Goodness,” she’d said, tilting her head in pity. “Are you certain that you can handle it?” But that’s the only acknowledgement that she’s ever given.

“I’m fine,” he tells her now. “It’s fine.”

She makes a low hmmm sort of sound. “Maybe,” she says. “But it’s also fine to sometimes not be fine.”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” he says, the words out before he can check them. He’s been doing pretty well in the months that he’s known her, talking to Steve and Peggy and the shrink and guys who served, spending time with his family, getting good sleep when he can and taking long walks in the night air when, however increasingly rarely, the nightmares mean he can’t. He doesn’t take time off from work if he can help it, and he’s mostly been able to help it. But he knows that his healing is a slow process, inches and years, that he has to do his best to keep a good face through it all.

He doesn’t know how to explain that to her, really, to tell her that the version of him that she’s spending time with...it hasn’t been a show, but it hasn’t been all of him, either.

“All of us,” she says with conviction, as if she can read his mind, as if she already knows, as if he’s already told her everything and she doesn’t care. “All people are allowed to not be fine sometimes. And you count in that too, whatever you might think of yourself.”

And as she drives them back, soft darkness and the sounds of crickets around them, he tries to let himself believe her.

She gets promoted late in October, which she’s proud of but also finds irritating - it means a lot of extra paperwork and administrative duties. They don’t get to eat lunch together as often now that she has a heavier schedule of meetings. He takes to staying a couple hours later, turning up by her desk around 7 to make sure that she wraps up for the day. They usually go out to supper together after, sometimes even a picture if there’s something good playing.

One frigid night in February, Bucky holds Layla’s coat out for her, trying to douse his nerves by listening to her complain grouchily once again about how the new position means that she’s down to reading a book every two days or even every three.

“The librarians probably have you in their prayers,” says Bucky once again as they wave to their favorite waitress and head toward the door. Before Layla can push it open, Bucky puts a hand to her arm.

“Wait,” he says. “I just wanted to—Well, it’s Valentine’s and you’ve been working hard so I—Here.” He pulls from his coat pocket the little pink case, watches her pop it open to examine the pink rose inside nestled amidst baby’s breath and a sprig of greenery. She’s practical, doesn’t really go for elaborate things, but he’s seen the little flashes of prettiness in the glint of jeweled pins and flowered clips when she has her hair pulled back or up, the various necklaces he’s only caught glimpses of, hidden as they are beneath the necklines of her dresses and blouses. He thought she would like this, and he doesn’t tuck his head but instead watches as she smiles, removes the flower and takes in the scent, runs a gentle finger over the petals.

“Thank you,” she says, tucking it back inside and closing the little case with care. “It’s lovely.”

“I’m glad,” he says, letting out a quiet little breath. He’d searched around during his lunch hour for something remaining at the florist in good shape and kept it in one of the cool rooms at work, waiting for the right chance to give it to her. Feeling lighter, he reaches for the door, only to have her stop him this time, a hand on his forearm.

“Are you ever,” she says, “going to ask me on an actual date?”

“Oh.” For all the nights he lay with his hands behind his head and imagined saying those words, he finds that he can’t manage them now, not right away. He almost wants to look away, to gather his head, but he breathes deeply, watches the calm in her brown eyes, the patience there.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he finally says. “Fair Game’s at the Longacre; we can see if there are tickets. Or West Side Story, if you’d rather. Or The Music Man - that’s supposed to be good too, if they’re not sold out.”

“Marian the Librarian?” He can hear that sound, the very beginning of her laughter. “I’ll see if I’m available.”

“You will, huh?”

“I think I can probably make the time,” she says archly. “For you.” And she holds out a hand to him, waiting as he secures his fingers gently between hers, before opening the door.

More chapters here

[glassprism]

Since you're also in other fandoms, are there any ships/pairings you like? Who's your favourite pairing in POTO? Who are your favourite characters (from POTO to all your other fandoms) and why? Ooh, here's a rather unusual one: who's your favourite side character (name one for all your fandoms!) and why?

Yeah, definitely! Though whether some can be counted as actual “ships” is debatable, as you’ll see in a bit.

For Phantom, my favorite “ship” is the love triangle - E/C/R. Not in a polyamorous, threesome way, but one where I love the dynamics of the characters, the way they affect one another, the ways Erik and Raoul are similar and different. So it’s not quite a “ship” in a traditional sense where I want characters to end up with each other, but more in the sense that I like to explore and analyze them.

As for other “ships” or pairings, I’m just going to list, like, every fandom or random-ass thing I’ve ever loved in semi-chronological order (time to go back to my middle school fandoms!). Under the cut for length.

Harry Potter: Sirius Black and Harry Potter. I adored the godfather-godson bond between the two (absolutely no romance; I clicked on an mpreg fic of the two when I was but a wee lass of twelve and it scarred me): how Harry was the last living reminder of Sirius’s best friend, whose death he still feels responsible for; how Sirius is the parental figure Harry wanted, how they were never able to be happy god damn it Rowling. (You can imagine how much my eleven year old self cried when I read the fifth book. Oh boy, the tears.)

Star Wars: Vader and Luke. Again, totally familial, father-son relationship only. (Speaking of scarring experiences, I once stumbled on a romance fic between the two, where yes, both of them were still father and son, and I have that summary etched into my brain permanently.) The way Vader obsessively hunts down Luke, the first emotional connection he has had with a person in literal decades! The way Luke has just ached all his life for a father figure, to the point where he will take a homicidal Sith lord if that’s who he is! How he never gives up on trying to redeem him! How Luke is right. Loud screeching.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Will Turner and Bootstrap Bill and Will Turner and Henry Turner. More sad father-son dynamics (you may be noticing a pattern here). Repeat what I said with the Star Wars relationships, only with more pirates and less homicide. (And way more parental abandonment guilt.)

Halloween: Michael Myers and Laurie Strode,  remake universe. Yet again, no romance, just a severely messed-up brother-sister relationship. I can’t begin to tell you why I like the horrific relationship between a serial killer and the little sister he was so obsessed with he ruined her life, completely traumatized her, and ended up leading to her death, but I do. Maybe it’s the dark obsession aspect of it, that in the midst of all his murders, there’s still one person Michael Myers longs to have a connection with, the baby sister who represented total innocence in his mind. Maybe it’s the “what could have been” aspect too, as Laurie never recognizes him or realizes their connection until it’s far too late. Maybe I need to re-examine my life choices. I’ll figure it out someday.

Bat Boy The Musical: Bat Boy/Shelley. Yes, this is a romance; yes, they are half-brother and half-sister, yes, you can get on me about this, but in my defense how about you watch the musical and NOT come out of it shipping these two against all your better instincts.

POTO: E/C/R, as stated above and for all those reasons. Oh, and you know what - The Phantom and Gustave from Love Never Dies. Can’t get away from those father-son ships. I actually care about that relationship than E/C or R/C in LND (maybe because both E/C and R/C suck in the sequel so what else am I going to latch onto).

Batman: Listed here, but my heart really lies with three ships. Jaytim is the first: it’s the whole “angry woobie destroyer of worlds who hates everyone meets seemingly well-adjusted and cheerful individual who is secretly hiding their own issues” dynamic. Bane/Talia from The Dark Knight Rises is the second. Doesn’t matter if it’s familial, friendship, protector and protectee, or romantic, I eat it up, and to be fair, it’s never explicitly stated what the relationship is in the movie. All we know is that the two grew up together in a hellhole prison, probably dependent on and solely trusting only one another, and that bond continues even after they leave, and not even death will make them leave one another. Finally, we have Jason Todd/therapy from the Arkham games. Because the poor guy needs it.

MCU: STEVE/BUCKY (aka Stucky). This ship (again, could be friendship or romantic) dominated my thoughts for four years. Steve’s fish-out-of-water status! Bucky’s horrific imprisonment under Hydra. The way the two find each other after and the angst. The fact that Steve refuses to kill Bucky and, even after seventy years, succeeds in breakthing through to him because their connection runs that deep. The fact that Marvel just ruined this relationship so now I have to rely on fanfic. Oh yes, and I also slowly fell into the Kastle ship (Frank Castle aka The Punisher and Karen Page). Another “hardened killer with sad backstory who connects to idealistic young woman with hidden darkness” dynamic.

Terminator: T-800 aka “Uncle Bob” and John Connor. Returning to sad father-son dynamics, I have this from Terminator 2. A robot learning emotions! A boy learning to take his place as a leader and all-loving hero. The bond they form, partially because the T-800 will do nothing else but protect John and partially because John has no father-figure of his own, so his robot bodyguard will do. THE ENDING.

ASOIAF/GOT: I actually have very few ships from here other than Arya/Gendry (and only when they’re older) and, weirdly, Theon/Sansa from the show. The Gendrya ship is just cute, it may well be the most wholesome ship on here, while Theonsa has shades of Stucky in it, I suppose, given that Theon has been tortured so badly he can barely remember his own name, until Sansa turns up and reminds him enough that he breaks out of it to help her.

Favorite characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: My favorite characters from here are probably more side characters, so I’ll just say Hermione Granger. Her focus on academics, fear of failure, and conviction that the library holds all the answers, felt all too reminiscent of myself.

Star Wars: Darth Vader,  no contest whatsoever. Cool mask, cool cape, cool lightsaber, and the absolute worst life one can imagine.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Interestingly, Will Turner. Yeah, I guess Jack Sparrow is cool and Elizabeth is absolutely awesome to watch and has the greatest change in the series, but oh-so-serious Will, with his deep loyalties and slow slide into moral ambiguity because of those loyalties, fascinates me.

Halloween: Laurie Strode, all versions. My favorite final girl, my survivor of trauma (except in the remake, where, well, she doesn’t survive). Also, her daughter in the Thorn trilogy, Jamie Lloyd, the most tragic little girl to walk across a horror movie screen.

Bat Boy The Musical: Ah, wow, haven’t thought about this. I guess Bat Boy and Shelley, more by default than anything.

POTO: Christine Daae, no contest. Love her character, love her arc, love her songs, love her costumes.

Batman: Listed here.

MCU: Bucky Barnes (unless he counts as a side character), but I also love Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Karen Page, Elektra Natchios... and I’ll leave it at that.

Terminator: John Connor. (There’s a reason I haven’t watched Dark Fate yet... or ever.)

ASOIAF/GOT: Three of them! Daenerys Targaryen, who I love because she tries so hard to rule well, who is so observant and cognizant of the things going on around her. Then Sansa Stark, who makes such astounding growth, who retains her empathy and compassion throughout, who is capable of startling perception and insight which most others underestimate. And finally, Cersei Lannister. She’s terrible. I love her.

And favorite side characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: Sirius Black may well have been my first fictional crush. But Remus Lupin is the kind of person (and teacher) I aspire to be.

Batman: I swear, depending on the comic series or movie, everyone is a side character. I’ll just link to my old ask again.

Star Wars: Batman syndrome all over again; every character in Star Wars might be a side character elsewhere, and every side character gets to be the main character of their own comic, book, movie, etc. Erm... I really liked Rose from the sequel trilogy and Chirrut Imwe from Rogue One. I find Mara Jade from the Legends universe fun to read. WAIT I GOT IT - Queen Amidala’s handmaidens from Episode I (Sabe, Rabe, Eirtae, Yane, Sache). Highly trained in both politics, decorum, and weaponry, able to be utterly nondescript or the Queen’s decoy at the drop of a hat? I love.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Hmm... you know what, I thought Syrena the mermaid was pretty cute.

Halloween: Rachel Carruthers! Your typical girl-next-door but well done and with a touching relationship with her foster sister. I will die mad about her death in the fifth movie.

Bat Boy The Musical: Uh.... I’ll get back to you on this...

POTO: Carlotta is super fun.

MCU: Oh heck, Dottie Underwood. (My taste in female characters goes like this: a) intelligent and observant, 2) sweet and compassionate, 3) batsh*t insane. She’s the third.)

Terminator: Not sure how much of a side character she is, but Kate Connor. Wife and second-in-command to John Connor, able to heal wounds and kick butt depending on what the movie requires.

ASOIAF/GOT: I’ll probably think of someone else, but you know what? Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, younger sister and wife to Aegon the Conqueror, whom he wed out of desire. Playful, spirited, loved to fly, sponsored musicians, initiated reforms for the smallfolk, what’s not to love? (Apart from one possibility of her death... but we don’t talk about that.)

[berriebun]

Spontaneous Coincidence

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Shinsou x Uraraka Character(s): Uraraka Ochako, Shinsou Hitoshi Rating: SFW Word count: 2,159

A/N: @shinchakoweek​ prompt - 02. Coffee & Tea. Quirkless AU, College setting! I have so many ideas for this one, let's see which one fits better~

A few weeks passed since the encounter at the Night club... It feels like forever ago now. Ochako had gone back to that bar a couple of times throughout the month, hoping to maybe find the familiar head of dusty lavender hair but she either just kept missing him or he just hadn’t been back. And given the fact that she had found him at the bar looking like he didn’t want to be in the first place, she felt a little stupid in hoping to see him there again. It would have been by pure luck that he’d be there again if only his friends dragged him back and she wasn’t sure that it would happen so soon.

School continued to demand most of her attention as she worked as hard as she could on finishing assignments and passing tests- all of which was draining her mentally. College education was important, especially if you have a specific goal in mind for your future, but it was so demanding that Ochako felt like it was sucking her soul out of her little by little. And she still had three more years of this! ‘I’m going to be a husk of a person by the time I graduate. IF I even get that far!!’ She groaned to herself as she slumped at her desk, pressing her face against the cool pages of her textbook.

As she stared off, her thoughts wandered to give herself a bit of a break as she looked around her room from where she was planted in her book. Quite a few thoughts filtered through in rapid secession. She needed to water her plants, had she gone shopping yet? Was there something ready-made in the mini-fridge all ready to eat, or did she need to get up and make something? Should she go to the commons? Maybe he’d be there- No, stop it, he probably doesn’t go to this Uni. But still... No! She needed to focus on her work, not some cute boy she spent a couple of hours with at random. 

She peeled her face off the weird plastic-y paper of her textbook and shook her head at herself, patting her cheeks. “Come on, Ocha. Get yourself together.” And then she just sat there for a few minutes, staring at the words on the page. It felt like minutes, but just a couple seconds had gone by before she pushed the book away. “Screw this.” She huffed, pulling away from her desk and getting up.

She didn’t know where she was going, but getting out of the dorm was her top priority, so when she ended up on the sidewalk heading into town she wasn’t at all surprised. Her feet were carrying her back towards the club, but she realized that pretty quickly and on a whim decided to head into the coffee shop she was standing next to instead. She needed to stop chasing her thoughts. For all she knew, Mr. Art Major was probably from a different city altogether and was just spending the weekend with his friends. ‘It would explain why he got dragged to the club when he clearly didn’t want to be there.’  

She tried to distract herself while she waited in line, scrolling on her phone and texting Mina if she wanted anything. It was doing a decent enough job. Until she got to the front of the line.

“Welcome to Coffee House, what can I get you... today.”

That voice. She quickly looked up from her phone; where Mina had just texted her what she wanted, to see Mr. Art Major. She didn’t react right away, and he didn’t seem to mind all that much since he seemed to be caught in the same situation. After a beat, her eyes dart down for a name- Hitoshi... ‘Oh no, it’s a cute name too. Fuck!’ 

“Hi. Um....” She blinks for a minute before mentally shaking herself out of this weird stupor she was stuck in. “Yeah. Um. Can I get a, uh, large Matcha Latte please?” Welp, so much for ordering something for Mina. She’ll worry about it later... Well. Mina would understand, right? 

“Sure, and what’s your name?” He asked, holding up the cardboard cup with a permanent marker- in purple.

“Ochako.” She smiled a little as she put her phone in her pocket and pulled out her wallet instead.

“Alright, and would you like anything else with your order?” A standard question, sure, but with the irrational fear of possibly never seeing him again (he works here Ochako, you can stop in whenever, omg), she spoke before she could properly think. 

“Your phone number?” She froze slightly, sure that she had a mild look of panic on her face as Hitoshi raised an eyebrow in surprise. Her entire face lit up as she covered her mouth. “Wait, I- I’m sorry, that-!” She stammered a little as Hitoshi’s look of surprise turned to one of amusement as he picked up her cup again and proceeded to scribble on the side of it.

“If that will be all, ma’am, then your total will be four dollars and sixty-five cents.” He sounded amused as he handed the cup off to a simple looking blond boy next to him. 

Instead of responding properly she just pulled out her card and handed it over. That was so embarrassing! How did she do that- WHY did she do that??? She had no clue what had come over her at that moment. And when motioned to, she moved out of line and went to find a table to sit at while she waited for her drink. The noise of the coffee shop dulled around the pounding her ears- sure that her heartbeat was attempting to deafen her. She 

As she sat down, Ochako pulled out her phone again and started spam texting Mina while she waited. As she had expected, her friend both congratulated her and spammed her with key smashes over the whole situation.

‘u wouldnt shut up about him! & now ure getting his number!!!’ ‘shut up! i dont know that for sure??? wat if he wrote -dont come back-???????’ ‘OMG ure brainless he totally wrote his number shut up’

The continued to bicker through text as Ochako pressed her face against her phone and lightly stomped her feet. Her nerves were killing her at this point and she just wished that they’d call her name so she could grab her drink and leave.

What she didn’t expect was for Hitoshi to take his lunch break at the same time, since he slightly startled her when he brought over her drink; with a bagel in hand. She jumped a little with a start, as her cheeks regained their rosy hue from before.

“Sorry. I should have said something.” He laughs awkwardly, hesitating for a moment before sitting across from her.

“No!” She squeaked. “No, it’s okay. I just. I was distracted, you’re fine.” She just wanted to disappear, this was so embarrassing... At least the slight pink to his face was a small comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only one.

They both sat there for a moment, both a bit awkward and unprepared for the meeting- especially given the fact that they have both been unknowingly going through the same thing these last few weeks. They shared a couple anxious looks every once in a while before shying away from the other’s attention to focus too much on what was in front of them; Hitoshi awkwardly eating his bagel by tearing small chunks off little by little, while Ochako carefully sipped her latte and tapped her phone.

“So um... How did that- the exam? How’d that go?” It was Hitoshi to break the silence, startling Ochako into paying attention again as she fidgets with her pop socket. 

“Exam...? Oh! Oh that exam, yeah! I uh, I just barely passed it, but I scraped by at least. No thanks to my friends of course. It wasn’t super awful, but I think I was just distracted... I could have probably done better.” She shrugs, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. And left with nothing more to really say, they lulled for a moment before Ochako awkwardly spoke up again. “I hope um, that your friends came and got you that night- shortly after we left. I can only guess how sucky it would have been if they forgot to find you before they left since the club was closing.”

He chuckles a bit and shakes his head as he picks at his bagel. “Yeah, no worries. Denki spammed my phone shortly after you left with your friends. The guy’s an idiot but he’s not forgetful. Even when drunk.” She nods for a moment before she tilts her head- That name was way too familiar to her.

“Denki? As in, Denki Kaminari? That Denki?”

“Idiot blond, wears a ridiculous black zig-zag hair clip in his bangs for no other reason than ‘aesthetic’?” He asked slowly, seemingly unsure if he really wanted to know her answer.

“Oh my god. I could--hmmmm.” She groans, covering her face as she grips her phone tightly and shakes it like she wants to yeet it across the cafe.

“I’m missing something.”

“Uuugh. My best friend and roommate is Mina. She’s dating Eijirou, who’s friends with Denki- Who they tried to set me up with for a double date!” She ranted. “Like!! He’s not a bad guy or anything!! Just!!!” She made a squeaky ‘reeee’ noise. “This is so Stupid.” She continued on as she pulled her phone up and spammed Mina with a bunch of anger emojis.

“What’s-” He seemed a bit off, and had she known him for longer than maybe half a day in total, then maybe she would have picked up his tone as a more exhausting annoyance than confusion. She watched him from the corner of her vision as he ran a hand through his wildly fluffy hair and pull out his own phone. 

“I agree. This is dumb.” He grumbled quietly, probably mostly to himself as he then dropped his phone on the table. 

“I’m sorry about how I reacted, just... This is so frustrating. And I hope this doesn’t come off as creepy or anything, but I’ve been trying to... Find you again. Ever since that weekend.” She sighed, slouching a little back into her chair, tugging on her hair a little. 

Her statement was followed by silence for a moment as she watched him pick at his bagel for a moment. “It’s not creepy. I’ve been trying too. And with all the times I talked to those morons about you, you would have thought that-”

“They would have realized.” She continued with him, nodding as she crossed her arms. “Yeah, you would think. I can’t believe this.” 

They both sat quietly for a moment as Hitoshi pushed his half-finished bagel away with a huff. A couple minutes after, he picks up his phone and frowns. “Well... It has been nice to actually sit and talk with you again. Maybe we can catch up later?” He asked, nodding towards her cup. She tilts her head to the side for a moment before picking up the cup again and turning it around, smiling weakly. He had written his number on the side.

“I don’t even know how I got the courage to say that. It was such a spur of the moment thing, and I totally forgot to look when you brought it to me.” She laughs, pulling up her contacts to put his number in and sends him a quick ‘Hey’ text. “But yeah. We can catch up later. I’m glad I decided to stop in, because who would have guessed huh?” She laughs, standing up as she pocketed her phone and picked up her cup- And being the way she was she eyed his bagel.

“Yeah, that was pretty damn smooth though. I was thoroughly impressed.” He laughs, ruffling up his hair as he too follows suit and stands up. He watches her eye his half-eaten lunch. “You can have it.” He grins, she was sure he was planning to save it for later since he had partially reached for it, but apparently, he didn’t seem to mind her side-eying it. 

“Awesome!” She smiles, scooping up the bagel and taking a bite out of it before realizing she still needed to say good-bye. “Oh.” She lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “I’ll see you around then, Mr. Barista.” She teased as she swallowed the bite.

“See you around, Matcha Latte.” He jokes back, walking past her to seemingly head back to work.

Feeling lighter than she had, going through a damn emotional rollercoaster ride just from stepping into a coffee shop, Ochako couldn’t help her smile as she shouldered her way out of the Coffee House and made her way back to the dorms.

[mimymomo]

Love Is War ~ Orphydice

So I came up with this idea after listening to an English cover of the Kaguya-sama Love is War opening (that’s not important to the story at all). Also, I wrote half of this story in the middle of the night so...enjoy!

Eurydice was at battle. A hardened soldier in a losing war. Each day was getting harder and harder to fight, to resist her ever-growing urges to throw down her weapons and give in to temptation. If only the side she was fighting against actually knew they were at war...

“Heads up,” Persephone grinned cheekily, sliding into her seat next to Eurydice’s, “Orpheus is definitely gonna try and ask you out today!”

Eurydice groaned, “again? That’s gotta be the third time this week!” These fruitless attempts were becoming more frequent by the week. “Persephone, I know it’s you who keeps pushing him to do this. You’ve got to stop encouraging him to keep asking.”

Persephone was Eurydice’s closest, and maybe only, friend. She was in her late thirties yet acted like she was no older than twenty-five. Eurydice met Seph in her last class in the fall quarter of her freshman year.

Eurydice was exhausted―four classes a day had been a terrible idea, and by class number four, she was truly feeling it. She shuffled into the classroom at the end of the hall. And immediately, her eye was caught by a lady in a vibrant green dress.

Her wild, curly hair flowed in endless waves. Stray strands of gray hair perfectly contrasted against the brown. Sun-kissed skin shines under the harsh, fluorescent lights. She was older, Eurydice knew as such, but by how many years? Not a clue. It could range from one to twenty; the numbers never blended better. A spotlight shone through the one open window, somehow impeccably highlighting her frame. She looked as if she was a goddess. Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman, taking a step to the empty seat next to her. One step, then another and another. Next thing she knew, she was seated in the chair and talking to the woman with an infectious smile and laughing for the first time that day.

Persephone, she had introduced herself. An ex-botany now wine studies major student, she originally enrolled in college years ago but dropped out after one year to marry her high school sweetheart. After a near divorce, she was looking for a new start and believed going back and getting her degree would help do just that.

“Sucks that starting next year I’ll be attending the same school as my baby nephew, but at least I’ll get to lovingly, embarrass him, so there’s a silver lining!”

From that moment on, the two grew extremely close. Eurydice gained a friend she could talk to and trust. Or at least she thought she could trust.

“Well maybe you stop forcing yourself to reject him, then he’ll stop asking you,” the older woman prodded. Eurydice just shook her head; she couldn’t do it, not again, not after every other man before. She had been hurt too many times, bruised and broken beyond repair- no one, not even sweeter than fresh cream Orpheus could fix that.

Orpheus Thrace, second-year and Persephone’s younger nephew? Cousin? She wasn’t exactly sure; there were too many halves and steps and god family relations involved to keep track. Eurydice had been smitten with the boy from the moment she first laid eyes on him. She could remember that day perfectly- walking into her poetry 107 class at the beginning of the fall semester last year. She was already irritated that day due to one, having to take a poetry class when it had nothing to do with her major (economics), two, the only time it was being offered, and it didn’t affect her schedule was at eight am, and three, adding sprinkles on top of the already burnt as shit cake, she had missed her alarm and was running late. So to say she was more than a little aggravated walking into the lecture that morning would’ve been an understatement.

She barged into class, her obvious bed head wild and sticking up and out in every direction, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. The professor stopped speaking and nearly every head spun towards her direction.

“Well good morning and thank you for arriving fashionably late and gracing us with your presence Ms...”

“Mendoza.”

The elder man scoured over his attendance sheet before giving Eurydice a few quick up and down glances. “Ahh, yes, Ms. Mendoza,” he said slowly. “In the future, plan to show up on time for these lectures. Now, take a seat.”

Eurydice rolled her eyes at her professor’s belittlement and slunk over to the first open seat she could find- an aisle seat near the back of the room. Throwing herself into the seat, she brought her hands up to her face and sighed. Great start to the year... she thought bitterly.

“Now as I was saying before the...interruption, please take a look at the learning criteria for this course on the bottom of your syllabus,” Professor whatever his name was announced.

“Shit,” Eurydice muttered onto her hands. She didn’t have a syllabus and she definitely wasn’t going to ask for one now and risk yet another callous remark from the old coot.

“Um, excuse me?” a whisper caught her ear.

Eurydice groaned again, turning to the voice, and immediately she felt her breathing hitch. Oh shit, he’s cute.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes- what color were they? Hazelnut brown? Maybe a faded green? Was that a hint of pale blue in there? Whatever they were, they were enchanting. Eurydice felt herself drowning in them, swirling around unwillingly in their pool.

The tips of his straight, dark, brown hair just reached the top of his eyes a soft, hesitant smile painted his pink lips. Oh god, his lips, pretty pink and plump…

Eurydice shook her head, trying to get the picture of this stranger's model lips out her mind, “I’m sorry what did you say?”

The stranger smiled, his teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white, “sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to share this syllabus with me? Since I knew you came in late and don’t have one.” He adjusted the front of one of his brown leather suspenders. Suspenders, a white shirt, and a...red bandanna? The man had an interesting style, that’s for sure. But Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite that.

“Yes, please,” She whispered brightly, “thank you so much.” She flashed him a smile and his cheeks flushed a dusty shade of magenta.

“N-no problem.”

“Now, where are we?”

“Right! Uhh, we’re right,” the boy scooted closer to Eurydice, setting the stack of stoked paper in the center of them. He smelt of something warm, sweet with a hint of musk, like from being surrounded by old books. Was that his cologne or just his natural scent? Eurydice felt heart flutter in her chest, what the heck? “Right here,” the boy pointed at a stray bullet point midway down the page.

Eurydice spent the remainder of the fifty minutes struggling to pay attention to the monotonous voice of her professor or keep track of the never-ending words on the page, while her attention seemed to travel elsewhere. On a certain someone to be more precise.

By the time the bell tolled, Eurydice was spent. The cute stranger was packing up his things and slinging a...guitar? Over his shoulder. Had that always been there? I wonder if he’s good? Shit, I think he’s talking to you! Quit spacing out!

“I’m sorry?” Eurydice said, shaking her head trying to turn her attention the bandana banded boy.

He smiled a nervous smile, “I was just wondering if you would like to go get something to drink with me?”

“Ain’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

“Oh, oh no,” he scrambled, waving his hands in a cute, semi-frantic gesture. “I meant like go get tea or something. The student cafe isn’t too far from here I think. And I don’t have my next class until three pm.”

This boy...just giving away such personal information to someone he just met. Sure, she didn’t have another class until noon but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend her free time with some eccentric stranger she only met an hour earlier. Even if he was undeniably attractive. Eurydice smirked, doing her best to keep up her blasé appearance. “I’m more of a coffee person myself.”

“I’m sure they have coffee as well,” he assured. “My aunt who goes here said the scones are to die for.” His aunt? Eurydice paid no mind.

“I don’t even know your name,” she countered. She didn’t know why she was fighting so hard, or even giving his random man her attention, but there was just...something about him she could resist.

The man gave her the biggest, dopey smile, damn, no person should ever be allowed to be that cute. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus, she repeated in her head.

“Hello Orpheus,” she loved the way his name rolled off her tongue, sweet like honeysuckle and molasses.

And against her better judgment, she replied, “I’m Eurydice.”

The two made their way out the double doors, and down the cement paths to the student cafe in the center of campus. They passed towering buildings and pushed through the bustling crowd of manic students coming in every direction. As they walked over a small bridge, Eurydice glanced at the tall willow trees that veiled over the river that ran throughout the campus. Colorful leaves floating on top of the dark water.

By the time they walked into the cafe, most students had left for class leaving the place nearly deserted. The two ordered their drinks - one tea and one caramel macchiato with an extra espresso shot - then sat in large, cushioned chairs near an electric fireplace.

They sat and chatted about everything and nothing. Where they’re from (both grew up locally but on different sides of the city- Orpheus on the east side, Eurydice on the west), what grades and majors they were (Orpheus: first-year music. Eurydice: second-year economics), and before they knew it, hours had passed.

In the middle of a heated chat over what Beatles album was superior (the White Album obviously), Orpheus’ phone began to buzz on the table. He picked the cell up and began typing away, his nimble fingers tap-tapping on the tiny keys. “Sorry,” he said placing the screen face down, “my aunt was texting me. Asked how my first class was.”

“You have a nice aunt,” Eurydice remarked, head in hand, elbow on the tabletop.

“She’s something,” Orpheus sighed, his smile slightly waning. “But I love her.”

Eurydice felt something twinge in her chest. Listening to stories of Orpheus and his loving family stung just the tiniest bit. She’d had enough time over the years to come to terms with her complicated family drama but it didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt sometimes.

“She said she wanted to stop by and check on me, face to face, I hope you don’t mind,” Orpheus groaned, his face scrunching up like an embarrassed child’s.

Eurydice shrugged, “‘course not.”

At that moment the jingle from the door could be heard and a familiar voice rang through the cafe walls: “Orpheus!”

“Lady Persephone,” Orpheus grinned, waving her over to the table.

“Poet, what have I told you about the Lady Persephone crap? I’ve known you since you were in the single digits and your parental guardian is my brother, just call me aunt Seph already.”

“Hey, I still call Mister Hermes, Mister Hermes!” Orpheus whined. “And besides you yelled at me the first time I called you aunt Seph!”

“That was years ago!”

“It was traumatizing!”

“Persephone?” a flabbergasted Eurydice cried out, deriving the attention to her and away from the twos ridiculous argument.

“Songbird! I see you’ve met my nephew Orpheus?”

“Nephew?”

Persephone quickly explained how Orpheus, as a small child, had been adopted by her older half-brother Hermes after his mother left. So, he had terrible parents too? Maybe they were more similar than she once believed.

From that day on, Orpheus joined the twos small friend group. And since that day to the present, Eurydice had been stuck at the ultimate crossroad. It was obvious that Orpheus had a thing for her, subtly was not one of his defining traits. And his constant invitations to go and do various activities with him wasn’t helping hide that fact either. And while Eurydice knew deep, deep down inside (well maybe not too deep), that she felt the same way. But she never could find her able to take that step, to cross that bridge. Each relationship before Orpheus had taken a piece of her, smashed her bridge to broken pieces, even chucked some down the raging stream. It had taken her so many years just to reassemble that bridge to some semblance of its former glory, she couldn’t risk having it damaged once more, especially by someone who came across as caring as Orpheus. His blow would shatter her past restoration.

“Quick here he comes,” Persephone whispered, dragging Eurydice’s attention back to the present, just as Orpheus bounded his way in front of the girl's table.

“H-hello Eurydice,” etched out across his face was a pure, innocent smile. The nerves in Eurydice’s gut fluttered about, batting against her stomach.

“Oh, uh, what do ya want Orpheus?” Eurydice cringed at how harsh her attempt at tonal indifference came out. She knew Orpheus didn’t deserve it, the poor boy too sweet and mirthful for his, and her, own good. But damn, did Eurydice not want to give Persephone the satisfaction of being correct on the status of her intense infatuation with the young musician.

He paid no mind, “I’m playing a gig at Mister Hermes bar in a couple of days, I was just wondering if you’d want to, maybe, come as well? Or maybe just help me practice? I could always use an audience.” Copious amounts of unfiltered hope and adoration bled through every word. Eurydice knew she should be annoyed by Orpheus' persistence, his blatant disregard of her previous refusals and body language. But she couldn’t bring herself to be; she knew the boy was not the quickest when it came to picking up on social cues. Plus Eurydice had a large suspicion that some aunt of his was pushing him to continue his trivial pursuit.

Ahh, so he’s taking a more gentle approach this time? she thought. No longer attempting to sweep her off her feet with bombastic musical performances or bouquets of expensive flowers that all mean love and heavy infatuation. Eurydice refused every offer- big or small- no matter how hard she wanted to agree. Today would be no different.

“Sorry Orpheus,” she said, fiddling with specks of nonexistent dirt under her nails. “I can’t.”

His shoulder sagged and smile all but vanished. Eurydice instantly felt bad for shooting the boy down that quick, but it had to be done, for both their sakes.

“Oh...okay,” his voice gummy and discouraged, like a stepped-on marshmallow.

“Oh give me a break,” Persephone snapped, slapping her hands down against the flat surface. “You can make it to that show, I know it, you know it too. Why are you lying?”

Eurydice felt something boil inside her, a pot left too long on high was now began to simmer over, spilling all its contents for the world to see. “I don’t see how this pertains to you,” she bit back, glaring the older woman down with eyes of steel.

“Well, you’re my friend and you’re lying to a member of my family, I think this does pertain to me,” Persephone said calmly, her carrying a twinge of an edge.

“Well, I’ve told you countless times to stop encouraging all these stupid advances!” Eurydice shouted, not noticing nor caring if she disturbed any passer biers. “I'm never going to say yes no matter how many times you get him to ask, and you of all people should understand that. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” Why did Persephone not get that this was hard in her? Why did she not understand that every time she had to turn down Orpheus, another piece of her heart chipped away, drifting downstream until it inevitably sank, never to be seen again? It hurt, it hurt so badly. But she had to do this, she couldn’t lose Orpheus, she couldn’t go through the pain of heartbreak again. She was a lone wolf on the field, she didn’t have time for a partner.

“But-”

“Aunt Seph, it’s fine.” The two turned their attention to the man of their conversation, both having forgotten he was even present. His face was blank, eyes glossy, staring down, off into space. “Eurydice is right. We should stop this.”

“But Orpheus-”

“It’s fine,” he asserted. He shifted the guitar case strap on his back, fingertips white from clutching on so tight. “I’m gonna go, class.” That was a lie. Eurydice knew his schedule like the back of her hand, Orpheus didn’t have another class for another hour, usually joining her and Persephone in a quick run to the student cafe for a fast breakfast. But Eurydice has no energy to correct him. She wanted to scream, to tell him he had the wrong idea, that she felt the same way. But she kept her mouth closed, biting her lip close to breaking the skin. She watched as Orpheus shuffled out the door, head hanging low, carrying himself like a scolded puppy running from the scene of an accident.

“Aunt Seph.”

“What?” Eurydice said blankly.

“He called me Aunt Seph,” Persephone scoffed. Eurydice felt something crawl in her stomach when Seph brought this significant word change to her attention. To many, saying ‘aunt’ and not ‘lady’ was no big deal, but to them, it meant everything.

The two sat in deafening silence until Eurydice tore away and all but sprinted out the door.

…

A few days after the disastrous incident, Eurydice found her racing through the crowded streets to a familiar bar. Hermes.

When she arrived, Hermes directed her upstairs to his and Orpheus’ living quarters where Seph was supposedly waiting. She raced up the stairs and down to the second door on the left: Seph’s guest bedroom.

“Songbird!” Persephone smiled, swinging the door wide open.

“Seph,” Eurydice yelled, charging in past the older woman. “What’s the emergency?” Eurydice was stewing alone in her apartment, trying and failing not to think about the young musician whom she guarded her heart against when she received a confusing text from the lady of spring telling her to get here quick.

She had been too worried about Persephone’s cryptic message to even consider the implications of standing in the home of the man whose heart she just recently broke. But Persephone looked...fine? Giddy even. What was happening here? “Seph, what’s going on here? I thought there was an emergency?”

“Oh, there is,” she grinned and Eurydice felt a chill travel up her spine. She didn’t like that smile, a hint of glimmering mischievous shining through the cracks. “Come on, the problems down the hall.”

Persephone guided her down the hall to a wooden door lit by the hall lights, a room Eurydice had never ventured through. “I lost an important paper for Hades when I was staying here and now I can’t find it. That brother of mine said he might’ve moved some stuff in here.”

“You called me here, thinking it was some huge emergency, just to help you look for some paper?” Eurydice gaped.

Persephone gave a quick nod, “like I said it’s an important document. And I figured two bodies would find it faster than one.”

“Did it not come across your brain that I could’ve been busy?”

Persephone pulled out a key and began to twist the lock, “if you were that busy, you wouldn’t have been here this quick. I know you’ve been holed up in your room think about that boy.”

Eurydice folded her arms, “you're the one who caused all this. I was fine keeping my distance but you kept pushing him to ask me out.”

Persephone unlocked the door, yanking out the key, “yeah, yeah, songbird, but think of this as me trying to fix things.”

“What do you mean, trying to fix-” Persephone sharply jerked the door open, light flooding in the dark. And there in the darkness, kneeled on the floor was a tall, skinny figure Eurydice instantly recognized.

“Orpheus?”

The young man tilted his head up, slowly standing, “Eurydice…?”

Suddenly, Eurydice felt a forceful shove on her back and she tumbled into the closet, falling into Orpheus’ arms. Slam! Then it was dark.

“Persephone!” Eurydice screamed, breaking away from Orpheus. She turned the knob- locked. She banged on what she hoped was the door. “What the hell? Let us out!”

“No can do Songbird,” she chirped through the other side of the wooden door. “You two need to handle whatever’s going on between you.”

“Seph,” Eurydice grumbled lowly, irritation seeping through her tone. Hard as the strongest steel, sharper than a razor blade. “Let me out NOW!”

“I told you Eurydice, I’m not letting you out until you and Poet figure out that relationship of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hades and I have a date. The counselor said it’d be good for us. ‘Bonding’ or some craziness like that. See you two in a few hours!” And with that, the two young adults listened to the sound of their freedom step down and out of the hall.

Eurydice continued to bang on the door, yelling for someone, anyone to come and answer her pleads, to come and open the door. She reached in her pants pocket, hoping she could use her cell to call Mr. Hermes to let them out. Nothing. She checked the other, then the backs, all empty. She must have left it back in her room.

“Great, just great!” Eurydice wallowed, slumping to the carpeted ground. She tucked her knees to her chest, “I can’t believe she locked me in here-”

“With me?”

Eurydice whipped her head in the direction of Orpheus’ voice. Even in the dark, his shadowy figure was easy to pick out- hunched over, fingers tugging at the loose ends of the old carpet. “What?”

Orpheus scoffed, “I’m sorry. I know you’d probably want to be anywhere else besides being stuck in a stuffy closet with me, the loser who apparently can’t take no for an answer. Who, even after being rejected, again and again, is still helplessly in love with you.” Orpheus sniffled, and Eurydice watched as he wiped cascading tears off his cheeks. “I told Lady Persephone that you didn’t feel the same, but just kept telling me to keep trying, that I was wrong, that I had a chance. And like a fool- I believed her. I kept trying, even though in my heart I knew the truth. I knew I stood no chance of winning your heart. You’re too good for me,” he gave her a wet, smile, eyes shut tight and throat clogged from holding back sobs. “But I still tried. And I ruined it.”

Eurydice felt her tears began to spring in her eyes as well, clawing at the back of her throat. Pricking needles on her tongue, “Orpheus-”

“I ruined it.” He wasn’t listening. “I ruined everything. Now, you don’t even want to be in the same room as me. I’m sorry Eurydice. I’m to blame for all this.”

“You’re wrong,” Eurydice sobbed, cutting the manic boy’s lament short. She shook her head, “you’re wrong. This isn’t your fault.”

“Eurydice,” Orpheus whispered half-heartedly.

“No,” Eurydice bawled, rising to her knees, dragging them over to Orpheus. She took his hands in her own, squeezing them, “you did nothing wrong. You, you were right all along.”

With a deep breath, Eurydice felt her battle armor slowly start to peel off, falling to the dirty, trodden ground. She was raising her white flag, why was she still trying to convince herself that fighting this exhausting battle was worth it? Why was so certain that she didn’t deserve love? Happiness? Him? She was done. Screw it, if this bomb blew up in her face, she’ll gladly accept the blow. This feeling and this man in front of her were worth the risk.

“I love you.”

Orpheus gasped, eyes so bugged out they looked as if they’d fall right out of their sockets. Eurydice wanted to laugh at his expression, but she couldn’t. She needed to focus. “I love you. Orpheus, I love you,” Eurydice sobbed, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have for a long time now. I was just too scared to admit that, to you, to Persephone, to myself...I’ve been hurt by so many people, more times than I can count. I just, I just-”

Orpheus wrapped his arms snuggly around Eurydice’s shoulders, holding her close as she cried, body wracked with wet heaves. He held her and held her and held her, running his hands up and down her back, letting every single salty tear spill.

When she finally calmed down, she pulled no more than an inch away. Orpheus places his forehead on hers, burning hot. They sat there quietly, just taking the other in.

“Is it true?” Eurydice stared into his eyes, a sliver of hope piercing through, “what you said, is it true? That you, that you love me?”

Eurydice cupped the sides of his face, fingers brushing against bristly, unshaven stubble. Her heart pounding- ba thump, ba thump, ba thump. With a nod, she gave him a warm smile, “it’s true. I do.”

A large grin overtook Orpheus’ face, “I love you too, Eurydice!”

Pink in the face from embarrassing excitement, Eurydice released a shaky breath, “I know Orpheus, you've told me plenty of times.”

“And I’ll tell you dozens more,” he chirped, a song of love filling his heart and head. He brought her in for a serried hug, their heartbeats thumping in a synchronized rhythm. Maybe laying down her weapons wasn’t sure a terrible decision in the end?

Then a horrifying thought popped into her head, “shoot.”

“What’s wrong?” Orpheus shot back panicked, had Eurydice already changed her mind?

“I just realized, Seph's never gonna let this go! Her being right, that is! She’s gonna tease us to high heaven once we pop outta this closet and she learns we’re dating…”

“Wait, we’re dating?” Orpheus asked gobsmacked.

Eurydice tensed, “o-oh, did you not want to? I just assumed-”

“No, no, no! I do!” He yelled. He couldn’t let her think about that reality, and he definitely couldn’t let her speak it into existence.

Eurydice smiled, “okay then. Now all that’s left is to seal the deal.”

“Seal the deal?” Orpheus asked voiced laced with confusion.

Eurydice nodded her head. With her eyes still locked with the taller boy’s and a sultry smile, she brought the tip of her pointer finger up to her lips and gave them a few quick taps. Even in the dark, Eurydice could tell Orpheus was blushing. She imagined the shades of pink that shadowed his cheeks and the redden tips of his ears. Due to their proximity, the young girl swore she could feel a warm heat radiating from the boy’s face.

“O-oohh...I see,” Orpheus stuttered, breaking his eyes away from Eurydice’s fervent stare.

She giggled at his nervousness and placed her hands gently to his cheeks, rubbing the pads of her thumbs over smooth skin. She had dreamed about this moment for over a year. Now, she finally had her chance, she wasn’t going to waste it. “I mean, they did lock us in here. We might as well take advantage of it.” And before he could reply, Eurydice closed her eyes, stood to the very tips of her toes and surged forward, pulling Orpheus’ head down slightly down in the process.

So hot, was Eurydice’s first thought as the two’s lips met. His lips- soft, hot, scalding even. After a few, too short, seconds passed, she pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry. Was that okay...?”

Orpheus swiftly nodded his head. “Oh Gods, yes,” he whispered before swooping down and recapturing her his with his. Love and eagerness bleeding through his lips.

Eurydice placed her arms around Orpheus’s neck and ran her fingers through his brown locks, while he snuggly wrapped his around her waist. They stayed that way for a while then Eurydice had a sneaky idea. She brought one of her hands down and placed it at the hem of Orpheus’ shirt; glacially slipping her fingers under the fabric the teeniest bit, running them over a smooth patch of pale skin causing Orpheus to jump at the feeling.

“Is this okay?” Eurydice asked a fraction of a centimeter away, not wanting to separate their lips. Orpheus left out a huff and a fast nod, his eyes glossy and lips just starting to get puffy.

Eurydice smiled and brought their lips back together. “You know you can touch me too,” she teased through their kisses and continued with her touch; her feather-light strokes reaching farther, getting longer. She could feel Orpheus reach out to do the same but stopping just as he grazed her shirt. Sensing his hesitance Eurydice pulled her hand out and grabbed hold of Orpheus’, giving the long fingers, calloused from strenuous guitar practices, a few good squeezes, and rubs, before bringing it behind her back and up her shirt. She gasped at the sensation of delicate fingertips circling her lower back and sides, then up and down gently over the dip of her spine. Damn, this was getting much more intimate than she ever imagined it would.

Orpheus pulled back breathing heavy, swollen red lips wet and puffy, “that okay?”

Eurydice nodded, eyes glazed over, desperate to feel his touch again. She reeled him once more and continued their tango.

She doesn’t know how long they spend interlocked in the closet but she can’t bring herself to care. They shared searing kisses all over their mouths, necks, and throats, tongues battling for dominance. Frantic yet exquisite touches over and under clothes, nibbles on ears and collarbones and heavy breathing filled the room. A fiery ball of heat and jitters burned in the pit of Eurydice’s stomach. Months of longing, intense internal turmoil, and tiptoeing around feelings now poured out through their every action. The feeling coursed through her body, affecting every nerve and every sense until Orpheus and his lips, his touch, his scent, was all she could think of. Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus.

Suddenly, a long creak rang out and a blinding light shone in their faces. Both young adults pulled back from their make out and squinted, shielding their eyes from the onslaught of brightness before them.

“Well, what do we have here?” the voice snickered. They immediately recognized the saccharine, sing-songy tone. The same voice that they heard from the other side of the door just hours? Minutes? However long ago: Persephone.

Another voice sighed. With squinted eyes, Eurydice peeked back into the light and saw three shadowy figures- one an elderly man, the other two still older but not as much. “You wanna tell me why my boy and his girl were locked in the closet?” Hermes asked the room, exasperation oozing out into the air.

“My wife was acting juvenile once again,” Hades impossibly deep voice cut in.

“Shut it Hades!” she blurted hotly at her husband’s disapproval.

Flushed red with embarrassment from being caught in such a compromising position, the two young adults fully broke apart, scooting away to the opposite side on the confined closet. Eurydice felt her heart pounding in her throat as she sputtered about, trying to get some form of an explanation out in the air. “We, I mean, what happened was-”

Persephone laughed, her back bending forward from full-body chuckles, “we know what happened Songbird. You’re faces and necks are enough proof.”

Eurydice glanced over to Orpheus, his hair messily sticking up from where her fingers were threaded. Purple-red bite marks littered his neck and lipstick stains covered his flushed cheeks, lips bright pink and swollen. She placed her hands on her burning cheeks and neck, trying to cover where she was sure similar marks lingered.

Hermes swing the door open further, “you two come on outta there.” Orpheus and Eurydice stood to the feet and awkwardly marched out the closet, still too nervous to engage any form of contact. “Now, you two clean yourselves up, you look like you’re having a wrestling match in there.”

“They basically were…” Persephone muttered under her breath. Eurydice glared at her while Orpheus kept his eyes in every other direction.

Hermes paid his younger sister no attention, “just tidy yourselves up. And you,” he directed his focus to Orpheus, “you start in ten.”

“Oh yeah, your shows tonight,” Eurydice suddenly remembered.

Orpheus gave a quick nod, “will you stay and watch?” A hint of hesitancy detected in his voice.

A small, warm smile tugged at the ends of Eurydice’s mouth, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Orpheus gave her a cheeky grin, all traces of worry had melted away. He reached out and took her hand in his, intertwining his bony fingers with her plump ones.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get fixed up,” Hermes said. “Come on, now,” he gestured to Hades and Persephone and the two followed him in succession down the winding stairs.

Orpheus and Eurydice headed to Orpheus’ room and straightened out their clothes and fixed their stray hairs. Orpheus tied his bandanna snuggly around his neck, hiding the numerous colorful marks in the process. “Well, I’ll see you downstairs,” Eurydice spoke while brushing down her bangs, turning to the door.

“Wait, hold on a second,” he chimed, lightly pulling her back. He snatched something off his dresser and handed it over to Eurydice: a spare bandanna. “I keep extras,” he shyly smiled, “I thought maybe you’d want something to cover up, you know.” He waved his hand over the area of her neck.

“Ahh, you don’t want people to see all your handy work, Orpheus?” she teased. Orpheus sputtered about, no words besides half-formed fragments and various sounds came tumbling out. Eurydice laughed, kisses his cheek and took the red bandanna from his hands. She folded it and wrapped it nicely around her neck, “there. Now we match.” She glanced at Orpheus, his mouth agape with a star-struck expression glued to his face. This felt intimate in a way neither had realized. Like they were connected, a true pair.

Eurydice took his hand once more and pulled him out the door and headed towards the stairs. She was heading towards a new battle, a fight she once thought she’d never be brave enough to face. But with Orpheus at her partner, maybe this battle would be worth the fight? Who knows, only the future could tell. But she prayed that her future included her dopey musician boyfriend close by her side.

[siennaswritings]

Novel Prep Tag Game

Tagged by @dustylovelyrun​, thank you so much!!! 💖💖 I’ll be doing this for my WIP The Trials of Emma and Isabella Evans, because it’s been on my mind so much lately!

First Look

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch).

When Crowned Princess Isabella Evans finds out she has a mother she was always told to be dead and a sister she didn’t even know existed, she thought that’d be the biggest thing to happen to her life. However, when her uncle kills her father and she’s the one blamed, she has to find a way to prove her innocence while on the run, navigate being someone’s sister, and a newfound relationship with her personal guard…

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Novella, single book, book series, etc.)

Definitely a trilogy! Each book will be in a different sister’s perspective (there’s three), and each tells a different story within the same universe.

3. What’s your novel’s aesthetic?

Dark/edgy royalty, rebellion, warriors.

4. What other stories inspired your novel?

The setting of the novel was inspired by Sharkboy and Lavagirl lol. Lavagirl became Emma, the eldest sister, and Sharkboy is her (younger) twin. Then, because I was really into opposites/yin and yang stuff when I was little and making this up to entertain myself, so the third sister was in “peace land” as I used to call it (lol). 

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for the novel.

Main Characters

6. Who is your protagonist?

For the first novel, Isabella (the second eldest) is my main protagonist!

7. Who is their closest ally?

Their personal guard, Arminia, becomes their greatest ally outside of her older twin Emma. 

8. Who is their enemy?

Lord Zachariah, her uncle.

9. What do they want more than anything?

To help her kingdom grow into a better version of itself via creating more equality for the people.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Because in order to be put on her rightful place on the throne, she has to prove her innocence.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

She doesn’t believe they’re worthy of the throne. She think that they’re only getting it because she was born into it. Which, while she was put in the line for it because it’s her birthright, she’s worked hard for the position and is a very worthy queen.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

She’s the middle girl of three and the Crowned Princess of the Rzeka kingdom. She has straight jet-back hair, her left eye a cobalt blue and her right eye emerald green. She’s 17 years old (like her twin Emma) and 5’4”. She has an oval face and a turned-up nose. She was, and still is, a rebellious princess with little to no regard for how things are run in the kingdom. She goes to the Black Market often for forbidden or hard-to-find texts, and she isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with any of the older men on the Royal Council (least of all her uncle, Lord Zachariah). Her gaze is youthful, and she lets her hair flow freely (which most of the time just makes it seem unkempt). She tends to favor fashionable blouses and pants, because she finds those easier to fight in. She is extremely pale due to the little to no sunlight her kingdom gets throughout the year. She will do anything if it’s right for her kingdom and its people.

Plot Points

13. What is the internal conflict?

Self-worth and figuring out who to trust.

14. What is the external conflict?

Proving herself to not be her father’s murderer. 

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Being found guilty.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

The overall story will be changed when we found out certain people at the end are not actually dead... 

17. Do you know how it ends?

Yep! I’ve had this story in my head since I was four or five, and, even though it’s grown and evolved into what it is now, I’ve always had the endings in mind.

18. What is the theme?

Proving oneself to yourself, trust.

19. What is a recurring symbol?

Family and love, in all its forms!

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description)

It’s mostly set within a different realm. It’s made up of three kingdoms and one neutral territory (the Amddiffyn Sanctuary). A lot of the time, Emma and Isabella are moving around different family properties. They stay on the run while trying to come up with a game plan to fight back against their uncle, so there’s a lot of forest and a lot of cabins in the forest and whatnot.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

Oh yes, so so many!! The novel is literally just so many skewed scenes in a random order that I just gotta piece together. 

22. What excited you about this story?

All the betrayal!

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

I sit down and stare at the page and just type. Either that, or I walk away if nothing comes out lol. I’ve been trying to stop that and outline stuff more, because that helps me more when I go back to projects.

Tagging: @milkyway-writes​, @celestialbunnistories​, @cosmicwordsblog​, and @tabbykatwrites​! I’ll also be adding my E & I taglist under the cut~!

Tagging: @dowings, @lesserghost, @milkyway-writes, @nattletak, @magicalmisstemi, @starry-writes, @panic-at-my-sexuality, @captainrynna

[analogical-trash]

learning disability rewriting chapter 2

I’m writing this fanfic. the first three chapters will be mostly the same. I’m going to try something I’ve never done before and have an upload schedule new chapter every Tuesday afternoon.

@logince @analogically-prinxiety @analogicalhell @analogical-messn @samthekoalabear98@valeriebevill1999

ao3    wattpad chapter 1 

On Monday Logan want throughout his day like normal he when to class. Got a little lost on the way but not as bad as last week. He sat through class not really paying attention. He was worried about what would happen during the recess. He didn't know what being tested was going to be like. What is it going to involve a shot like when he had to go to the doctor. Was it going to be a big 20 million word test? Was it going to be something that scans his brain like an X-ray? Would that hurt? He never got an X-ray before do they hurt? 

“Logan…. LOGAN” Logan jumped. 

“Yes?” 

“It time for lunch. Now when you're done eating I need you to go to room 100. Okay” she took out a pen “here let me see your hand” 

Logan was confused but show her his hand. Miss Tate wrote down a big 100 on his hand. 

“So you don't forget” Logan nodded and walked off to lunch. He didn't really feel like eating. He knew he should, he was able to eat a few of his grapes. Then the bell rang and he started to walk to the playground then he looked at his hand. Room 100. He started walking around. It took him a while without his map but he soon found room 100. He knocked on the door and then opened it. 

There was a teacher with glasses sitting at a table with some books and a big bag next to him. And two students sitting at a desk playing context four. 

“Oh, you must be Logan. Hi I'm Mr. Picani come and have a seat”

“Virgil Patton you guys will have to go play on the playground today and the rest of the week until me and Logan are done” 

“No fair” the boy wearing all black said. 

“It okay we go play on the swings,” said a really piper boy who was already putting away the game. Soon the two boys left. 

“It very nice to meet you logan” 

“Nice to meet you too Mr… um Mr” 

“Picani. It okay you will learn my name soon enough.” He pulled out a book looking thing but the book stood up on its own and was sideways. Logan didn't know what to call it. Mr. Picani the page there was a picture of a room with some toys in it and a dog playing with a ball. 

“So Logan I'm going to ask you a few questions about this picture. If you don't know the answer that quiet okay” 

Logan nodded

“Okay point to the dog if the ball is blue and there is a red train on the ground. If the chair is facing the dog then point to the window” 

Logan looked at the picture. The ball was yellow so not going to point to the dog.  So he looked at the chair in was indeed facing the dog so he pointed to the window. 

“Good job. Okay so if the train is red and the ball is a yellow point to the dog. If the window is open and there a pillow on the chair point to the beach ball. If it is raining outside point to the brown bear.” 

Logan looked at the picture. The train was red but the ball was not yellow. So he won't point to the dog. The winder was open and there was a pillow on the chair so he would point to the beach ball.it also wasn't raining outside so he didn't need to point to the bear.  He pointed to the beach ball. 

“Good job” 

They did a few more of those with it getting harder and harder each time. 

Then he was asked to read some words. Which he couldn't understand any of the words on the page. Well that not true he knew the word ‘and' ‘the' ‘a' and that was about it. Then he was asked to tell Mr. Picani what letters where on the page in order. Just like what miss. Tate had asked him to do. Only this time Mr. Picani didn't say anything just wrote down some stuff. Till the third time. When he asks “Logan are all the letters right next to each other in a line or are they in a swivel I'm like a snake?” 

“Swivel. The A is higher than the H”

“I see,” Mr. Picani wrote something down. 

“Okay, this time I'm going to point to the letters and you tell me what they are,” Logan told Mr. Picani what each letter was 

“ interesting… okay Logan we going to play a game” Mr. Picani pulled out some blocks on one side it was all red other side was all white and the rest was half white and half red. 

“It like tangram but a little different. I'll show you a picture and you try and copy it with the blocks okay we start out easy and it gets harder and harder” 

Logan nodded. The first one he was handed 4 blocks and was shown a pick where the top was red and the bottom half was white. Logan flipped the two of the blocks so they were all red and put them on the top. Then he flips two to white and put them at the bottom. 

“Good job”  they when on for about 20 of them and at the end he had 16 blocks to work with and was making pictures of what looks like a person and random designs. 

“Okay, Logan that looks to be all the time we have for today. Tomorrow we start off with some math then we play tangram since you seem to like this game I'm sure you like it as well. I'll see you tomorrow you got 10 minutes to go to the bathroom or play till you have to go to class. Goodbye logan” 

“goodbye” Logan left and when to play. And forgot about the whole thing during the rest of the day. The rest of the week Logan when in and did what Mr. Picani asked and at the end, they play a little game that Logan had never played before. He was really liking spending time with Mr. Picani.