#disaster trio appreciation week

[demigod-shenanigans]

Hi I’m super stuck on the “Nicknames/Wilderness”  prompt for Day 1 of Lost Trio Week, and for various reasons I only have a week to write something. If you could be so kind as to drop a few hcs/thoughts that might get me inspired to write, that would be very much appreciated! (The writer’s block is real)

Laughing a little bit because that’s the prompt I’m also stuck on

I will share headcanons, too, but a general gentle reminder: if it’s too much or you’re not feeling a certain prompt, you can absolutely participate in lost trio week without participating in every single day. Also not sure how you’re doing it, but personally, I’m not writing these in order. I started with Day Four because that was the one I felt most inspired to work on

That being said:

-If we’re talking Wilderness as in Wilderness School, Leo and Piper clicked the moment they met. I’m not sure what it was, exactly—maybe he made a stupid joke and she was the only one that laughed. Maybe she caught him trying to play a prank on someone and wanted in on it. Whatever it was, they’ve been inseparable ever since. It could be interesting to explore some of those memories, or how they looked like with Jason added, or maybe what it would have been like if Jason had actually ended up at the school with them somehow.

-When it comes to Wilderness as more of a general concept, one of the specific silly things my brain just went to was camping trip. Piper has little to no skills when it comes to that stuff. She’s lived in mansions and had private chefs for most of her childhood. The closest she’s ever come to camping has been missions and the time her and her dad camped in the yard of her grandpa’s old home when she was ten, but that wasn’t real camping. Jason has lived in the woods before when he was very little and probably has skills based on that and some stuff he picked up from survival classes in that context, but living with wolves is very different from regular camping and if he’s ever had to apply his theoretical Camp knowledge, he cannot remember it. Leo has the most practical skills when it comes to sleeping outside but he was just kind of making shit up as he went and didn’t really have equipment. —This is all to say they take like an hour failing to set up a tent. Leo has never been more frustrated in his life because he rebuilt a celestial bronze dragon from scratch but is somehow being foiled by a tent instruction manual. Jason keeps bringing up that sleeping under the stars at age three wasn’t that bad. Piper goes from frustrated to laughing hysterically because this being the thing they fail at after every ridiculous impossible task they’ve mastered is objectively hilarious. The whole trip is a disaster for a variety of reasons but I feel like they end up having a great time

-I’m not very good with Nicknames (neither as a prompt nor as a general concept honestly, I’m not really someone who gives people nicknames a lot), but one of the things that comes to mind there could be these changing over the years? Leo and Piper go from strangers to friends and use nicknames for each other for the first time, and it means something, because Leo’s not stuck around another person for long enough to come up with a nickname in years. Jason getting a nickname from Piper and Leo and not really being sure why it feels as strange as it does since he doesn’t have his memories—Reyna doesn’t feel like she’s the type of person to really use nicknames, and since everyone at Camp Jupiter saw him as a leader, I don’t feel like they’d casually call him by some nickname either. Jason hearing that nickname and it being meaningful because for the first time in ages he feels like a kid instead of a leader. Jason getting to use a nickname for Leo and/or Piper for the first time and it feeling significant for the same reason. Jason and Piper post-breakup trying to figure out what to call each other now because they’re objectively better as friends but it’s still weird and new and everything is different and it’s too strange to keep using the same nicknames they did when they were dating.

Hope some of this was helpful!! Please feel free to use however much or little of it as you’d like! Writing this out actually helped me massively because it made me realize I’m a massive idiot and do have a concept I want to use for this prompt (not any of the above ones so again please feel free to grab them if you’d like!) so thank you for that haha

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 2 (Reflection)

Terraqua Week 2024, Day 2

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word count: 4,443 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: I was talking to a friend and we counted - counting the separate fics that are in my anthologies, this is my 40th fic about Terraqua and the Wayfinder Trio. 40!!! To those who were cheering me on from the beginning, thanks for being there. And to those who found me other times, I appreciate you so much! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The library was a place to temper—the best place to spend uninterrupted hours with Aqua, and the best place to keep up appearances. Books and homework were effective eliminators of fervor.   

Terra sat on the teal carpet, leaning against a bookshelf of Keyblade history’s oldest tomes, and stretched his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. He kept reading the same sentence over and over, the words shrouding together. 

Aqua sat across from him, mimicking his posture. On her lap was a heavy hand-written book where the pages were woven by a ribbon inside a worn leather cover. Affairs of the Heart, the Master of Masters’s stupid magnum opus. 

One month left until their Mark of Mastery. Standards for their essays were now entirely reliant on ancient texts, which discussed: the philosophy of connecting your Light to your Keyblade, ethics about fighting the Darkness, and nothing interesting Terra didn’t already know. They were tests to see if they could decipher and regurgitate common knowledge (sometimes nonsense).

Aqua sighed, bringing Affairs closer to her face, as if she needed a magnifying glass to read the text. She nibbled the edge of her lip. Aqua had just cut her hair short, and the desire Terra had for years to tuck it behind her ear intensified. Whenever she tried, it sprung back forward. Terra could do it over and over and it would never stay. It’s cute.

Terra shouldn’t gawk. He cleared his throat. The words in his book ceased to have meaning. “What’s bothering you?”

Aqua’s jaw locked. “For th’re art powers with nay mast’r,” she read. 

“In what context?”

“Some Keyblades don’t have Masters.” 

Ah. Immediately what came to mind was the Master’s Defender, something ancient and passed along to keepers of the Land of Departure. “Inherited Keyblades.”

“If…” She stopped. The Master of Masters was archaic, and her brows furrowed. She chose her interpretation carefully. She read, “Take thy heart and lodge it yonder chain, and thee shalt findeth a way.”  

“A way to what?” 

She shrugged. “Using the Keyblades of your comrades.”

“Isn’t chain too strong a word?” 

“I think he means link. He must be describing a bond that strong.” Aqua. Always the one to defend the forebears. “Listen to this: Nay fooleth, taketh thy heart and maketh thy star seeth.”

Terra dropped his book to the floor. “I don’t get where this is going.”

“Well, I think he’s using the term star to describe…” She flipped a page. “A Light. Someone equal to you.”

“Or, he’s a clown. I don’t think that book is serious. He wrote vaguely in riddles to confuse everyone.”

“We could try it. Trade our Keyblades.”

Terra strangled a cough. He was really strangling a hopeful laugh. This wasn’t the first time Aqua considered him an equal, but his heart hammered at the thought all the same. Her equal. His and hers.

And this was a very bad idea. 

“We tried that when we first conjured our Keyblades,” Terra said. Explosions happened. Earthshaker was desperate and too demanding. Rainfell was sensitive to emotion and needed control. 

Aqua straightened the pages with reverence. “We were kids.”

“It was a disaster, or did you forget? We nearly burned down the garden. Rabbits were threatened, Aqua. Innocent rabbits.”

“And we didn’t know each other as well.” 

“What difference does that make?”

Aqua licked her lips. Terra smiled. She was about to lecture. “Our Keyblades are an extension of our hearts, yes? And our Light is stronger through the bonds we make, therefore not only do our Keyblades become stronger, they shine more around the people we are connected to the most.”

“You’re saying we’re good friends. How sweet.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped to a previous page and pointed to a sentence. “It says here, To knoweth thy Key is to knoweth who is’t thee lodging thy trust.”

“So you trust me?”

She kicked his hip with the side of her foot—and Terra captured it, pulling her until her ass dragged on the floor. 

“No, I don’t,” she said, laughing. “Obviously.”

He let her go. Then Terra felt the void. It haunted him more frequently at every ghost of her touch—a pat on his shoulder, a punch to the bicep, when she straightened his bangs, an accidental brush against her shoulder. Always through clothes—Terra never had a good excuse to casually run his fingers on bare skin. 

Aqua rolled forward to her knees and leaned on him thigh-to-thigh. No void now, but a pressing worry over the possibility that one day, she would meet someone else that she would want to be touched by. She flipped the book over to show him. 

Terra didn’t take it. He couldn’t even read. Her thigh, her thigh, her thigh.

“Why is this that important to you?”

Aqua took the book back, surprised. “Well… do you know what this means for old Keyblades that are passed around?”

Terra bit his cheek. “It means we have a lot to prove to a Keyblade like Defender.”

Aqua nodded. “The Master’s guest has a similar Keyblade.”

Terra leaned forward and nearly took her chin in his hand. He kept it balled to his stomach. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I am, actually. We have this stranger judging us without knowing everything we went through. Think about it. If we could wield each other’s Keyblades, it will impress the Master and his guest. Prove to them that our bond is strong and we deserve to pass together. Prove to them that we can wield our inheritances when the time comes.”

This late into their study?  “Does the great Master mention how it’s supposed to feel?” he asked. “When we correctly do it?”

When they touched each other’s Keyblades as children, Aqua ran back to her room crying. She had said Earthshaker was “nervous,” in her words. But Terra knew better. His heart exposed like that, it became easy to read, and Terra couldn’t talk to her for days after. Truthfully, he was ashamed that she sensed his insecurity, feeling how he compared himself to her, how he was frustrated with being two years older but at the same level as her, how he was obsessed with falling behind and keeping up and excelling—all within the open aorta that was his immature Keyblade. Probably felt sorry for him, too.

And the other truth? Terra cried by himself in his own room when she didn’t know. Rainfell was confident, radiant, expansive despite Earthshaker being bigger, and Terra couldn’t mimic that. 

Aqua didn’t look at him when she said, “He mentioned the word ascendance. It’s supposed to feel like we’re leaning on a friend.” She smiled at him. Did she feel the same about his own thigh or did it not register in her head at all? “I know we can trust each other’s Keyblades. It shouldn’t be hard this time.”

Terra didn’t want to do it, but they built a metric relationship by testing the waters, by challenging each other, correcting technique, pushing and pushing and pushing to be better. If he backed out, Aqua would take it as though something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. Terra was in love. 

What he must do was commit the same calm control Aqua had with Rainfell. 

Besides, he needed a win. Side by side for the Mark of Mastery, he needed proof he could stand next to her. 

“Let’s do it.”

She beamed.

~*~

The library is destroyed. It has (had) multiple floors, but the upper levels are now barrages of torn shelves and mounds of books that make it impossible to climb the stairs. There’s no way to reach the shelf that houses Affairs of the Heart, but Terra tries looking anyway. Maybe the Master or Ven left it on a table before… everything. But it’s not anywhere. For the time being, Terra gets no answers to any of the lingering questions he has about how to help Aqua. Only a wish to cure her.

The rest of the castle is just as damaged. The east wing is entirely gone, and the west crumbles in most hallways, leaving gaping holes that invite broken bones. Rain pours through the open wounds on the roof, and seeps through the cracks on the walls, spreading mold. Terra’s bedroom is gone, half-collapsed over the cliff below, but Ven’s and Aqua’s are intact. 

The kitchen is submerged underneath its ceiling. A cauldron remains. Ven helps by pushing it while Terra pulls. When they drag it into the Master’s study, which is untouched, Terra knocks over a lamp with the bump of his hip.

“I don’t understand,” Terra says, catching the lamp before it shatters on the floor. “Explain to me what happened like I’m five.”

Ven scowls when he inspects how dusty his hands got because of the cauldron. He claps them. 

“Well,” Ven starts like he’s talking to a child. “Once upon a time, the Master was mad at me. Terra came and saved me. Terra threw me in a voooortex—I know that’s a difficult word to pronounce—so I didn’t see what happened. Aqua said—”

“Ven.”

“Aqua said she locked me away in an alternate universe of the castle to keep me safe.”

“With the Master’s Defender. Some secret only Masters know.”

“Yeah, and she woke me up again. Well, no. I mean, Sora was the one to officially wake me up. Aqua transformed the castle back with” —Ven waves his hands like he doesn’t know how to describe it— “her incredible new powers. It’s like time went backwards or something.”

It’s impressive how Darkness can bypass a Keyblade’s spell. Then again, the Land of Departure is in the same condition Xehanort left it, from his own Dark curses. 

“Why not use the Defender?”

“We need a duster in here.”

“Ven.”

“I don’t know. She said Defender doesn’t respond to her anymore.” Ven shrugs. 

Terra taps his fingers on the cauldron. Everything he’s been learning about what happened while he slept—stars, why would anyone want him alive right now?

“How is she?”

Ven scratches his shoulder. “She’s still outside.”

Staring at the Master’s memorial, in the rain, exactly where they left her. That's most of what she does now. Stare blankly.

“At least she’s nice to me,” Ven says. “She hates everyone else.”

Terra inhales, gritting his teeth. Does Aqua have a shorter fuse? Yes. Does she judge people? Only when they truly deserve it. But hate? No. That is not Aqua.

"You're exaggerating."

"Pssh. Just wait until she wants to kill you."

Terra almost says, I don't blame her, but he keeps it to himself.

In the study is an ashen fireplace full of debris. The Master’s personal journals are scattered on his desk, and his favorite books—tomes, novels, children’s books he used to read to Terra—lay on a private shelf opposite. With how little it’s been disturbed, it’s almost as if the Master could open the door, ask them both why the cauldron has been moved here, to please move it back to the kitchen, and not to worry about the state of the castle. It can and will be fixed.

Except there’s so much to be worried about. Thunder strikes the ground, and it sounds close. Rain pummels down the window, leaving a blurred view of storm clouds hiding the mountains.

“There’s no mirror here,” Ven says.

Terra would chuckle, but nothing is funny anymore. “Why are you worried about mirrors?”

“Aqua’s making them all weird. I see things like… nevermind, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you help me take mine out of my room?”

Terra wants to collapse. Everything is weird. “Sure.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

There’s a loveseat in the study, but Terra’s too tall, so he’ll need to find some clean blankets and nest on the burgundy rug. “Here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What’s the cauldron for?”

Earthshaker still won’t answer when Terra commands it to. “I just need something to occupy my mind.”

“Okay.” Ven doesn’t believe him. That’s because Terra is a terrible liar. 

To shut out the silence, Terra pats Ven’s shoulder and says, “Come on. Let’s get your mirror out.”

They leave the mirror in the resident hallway, at Ven’s request that it’s left facing the wall. 

That night, it’s still storming, the wind howling like it’s crying. Which is a problem. The Land of Departure is supposed to be the balance of Light and Darkness. These storms aren’t normal. Lightning flashes purple, then green, then red. The rain leaves smears of muck. Aqua isn’t normal. Nothing is normal. 

Terra needs to busy his mind.

The way back into the kitchen isn’t safe. Terra jumps over a hole that spawns beneath his feet, and crawls under columns that have fallen over to get to the pantry. Carefully, so he doesn’t trigger a complete cave in. He grabs every herb he can safely reach.

Terra then spends hours removing stone slab after stone slab from the fireplace, some rotten with mold. He pushes the cauldron over the wood, ignites it with a Fire spell, and waits for the water to boil. As thunder rumbles outside, Terra rips dried leaves from stems and mixes them with magic-induced powders that the Master concocted years ago. 

It’s quiet. In normal times, he would be knocking on Aqua’s door, and they would sit on her bed and talk about what happened until morning. Normally, the castle lanterns would be lit, offering safe passage at night. 

“What are you doing?”

Terra jumps at Aqua’s steady voice and nearly drops the ladle. She’s standing at the doorway. The light from the fire slices half her face in shadow. Her golden eyes glow. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Aqua walks up to the Master’s desk, and it’s no wonder why. Her steps don’t make a sound. She places a silver hand mirror on the desk, face down. He recognizes it: she keeps it in her vanity drawer.

Terra turns his attention back to his potions. He feels terrible thinking this, but it’s nauseating to look at her. Her body oozes black smoke when she moves, and when he crosses her path in the halls, he finds her staring randomly at the walls, at statues, at shredded stained glass. When she notices his presence, he turns the opposite direction. 

It’s not that she’s hideous. It’s that he wants to pretend her condition is not his crime. 

He can feel her staring at his back. 

“Do you remember these storms?” he asks. They pass through the Land of Departure every twenty years, and lucky Terra and Aqua were around to see the last one. The Master had locked them up in this very study, while he braved the outside and fought this dark energy. The fact that another one is at their doorstep a year early is an omen.

A pause. “Yes.”

Terra inhales to stop himself from crying. She sounds like she will never smile again. More than that, there’s a buried edge to her voice and it crawls over Terra’s skin. Like he’s around a predator, his hairs stand and he’s careful not to trigger an attack. 

“Look at me.”

Terra pretends to lean over the cauldron to mix, and lets the onslaught of steam threaten his fear away. Feel pain here, assaulting his face, and it overrides the pain of looking at her face.

But he can’t pretend forever. He finishes his “work,” and he turns. This frown is so unnatural for her—still and unmoving, like she’s dead. In better times, her frown made him laugh. 

“Don’t like what you see?” She leans on the desk. 

Her face, her jawline that he wants to stroke with his knuckle, sad and torn up. She’s beautiful, and she’s a reminder of every mistake Terra has made.  

“It’s not like that,” Terra whispers, and he stares at his shoes.

“Look at me.” Stronger, with vice. 

He does, reading her angry eyes, her bleached hair, the claws like needles into the wood. Her lips, pursed and tense. The length of her neck. The color of Darkness spreading over her arms. Her bare shoulders, the straps he’s taken off before.

“I’m sorry,” he says, her face blurring. Hot tears leave burn marks on his cheeks.

Her claws scrape the desk as she stands back up. “I don’t care about your apology.”

“I know what you’re thinking—”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aqua…” He licks his lips, and they taste like salt. Thunder roars. “We have to fix the castle. To protect us. These storms are dangerous.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms. “How bad.”

Stars, he sounds so stupid, considering what she survived. “We have to think of Ven.”

Again, that predatory feeling that she’s smothers into control. Terra braces for an attack, but none come. “You think I don’t?”

“Stars,” he curses. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I have already taken care of his room. He’ll be fine.”

Terra swallows what feels like thick goo down his throat. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’m here to take care of this room.”

Terra gapes. He’s expecting her to summon Rainfell, and bless the walls to keep him safe from the storm. But she doesn’t. She’s standing there, glaring at him. 

But of course—the shadows that dance with the light from the hearth dance on their own. They shift and warp. She’s creating a barrier for him with her Darkness. 

“I get it, you know,” he says. 

She doesn’t respond.

He continues, “You feel more in control like this.”

Her jaw locks. He studies her, really studies her. Her Light is still there but it’s faint. Rainfell is muted. Before, her power was like the sun— too bright to look straight on, but one you can gaze at it in the reflection of water. Now it’s like… the wick of a flame in the fog.

Terra has a faint memory of being in the dark and a star dissolving in front of him. Well, star isn’t a strong enough word for Aqua’s Light before the Guardian overpowered it and infected her with whatever this is. The Guardian wanted a sun, and the Guardian sucked all its hydrogen.

“We can help you,” he says, standing taller.

“How are you suggesting?”

“Maybe… we can remove the shroud—”

“Exorcism.” 

“No—”

“I’m not broken.”

“No.” A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. “Of course not. You’re strong.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, snarling. She lowers her voice. “Call me strong. It isn’t fair.”

Terra nods, and blinks away from her, wishing his tears would stop. She’s right. Nothing, including his tears, is fair to her.

“Look at me,” she says, gentler. She walks forward, her body warping through the desk like she’s made of mist and there’s nothing solid in her way. “Everyone averts their eyes. But I hate it when you do.”

Terra runs reasons in his mind to be brave. For her. For her pain. For his punishment. His tears now dribble off his chin.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to hear your voice all that time?” she says, stepping up to his face. She compresses one claw against his throat, right under his jaw. “How quiet it was when I couldn’t?”

This isn’t what Terra had expected his future to be, if a miracle were to happen and they would be this close again. For hours that seemed like years and years that were millennia, Terra asked the stars if he could touch her one more time. Hand in hand, that was all he asked for.  

“Yes. I do.” He sniffs. She presses harder and Terra grits his teeth from the pressure. “I couldn’t hear or see anything. All I did was dream memories. It was torture—”

“Torture,” she mumbles. She presses even harder that her claw stings. How is she this close to him when he perceives her so far? So close, their hips inches apart. 

“Yes.” Terra swallows but can’t. “Aqua, all I had were daydreams of when I could see you and Ven again.”

Silence. She tucks her white hair behind her ear with her free hand, and it falls forward. The claw under his jaw shifts, and the artery at his throat throbs. She leans near, almost to kiss him, when she stops just before her lips grace his. 

“You’re breathing,” she whispers.

His blood pumps. That’s what this is. She’s measuring his pulse, that he’s real under her touch. 

She’s still Aqua. Just weird. Weird like a jewel unrefined, still in its geode. For years, Terra hasn’t felt, hasn’t touched, only yearned. The restraint he has with her this close dissolves from tears of what-ifs. 

Brave, be brave. He removes her hand, clutches it to his heart, and leans toward her. Leans until their foreheads almost touch, until he takes her cheek and strokes it with his thumb. Testing their distance, looking into gold while gold looks into blue. Gold glances down to his lips.

He kisses her. Her lips are cold like she’s been in the snow, and it reminds him of bright mornings in white. Of dark, cozy nights by the fire. Of the wonder of seasons when he was young. Her lips are cold like steel when they’re soft against his, and he savors them when he hasn’t savored anything for twelve years. Her lips are no longer the way he remembers them, but they’re Aqua. And the tongue he needs is Aqua, and the sigh she gives him is her. When he lets go, she’s dazed, with his shirt balled in her fist and staring at the wall behind his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting go of the arm wrapped around her waist. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You know,” she says, “I can’t feel much.”

He peels off the claw that’s nearly tearing a hole in his shirt, and rubs it between his hands, over her scales, trying to thaw her. “Do you feel this?”

Aqua watches him work. “Faintly.”

“I can make you tea.” Cinnamon would be best considering its strong flavor, but it’s in the pantry, mixed with plaster. “Just give me a day so I can buy some.” 

She says nothing.

Terra exhales his anxiety, and brings her knuckles to his lips. The rubbing hasn’t helped. She’s still icy, and he wants to wrap her with his body, throw fleece over her face. “I can make you something now if you want. You’ll feel better.”

“Better,” she mutters, as if this offends her. She pulls her hand away. Her ice ghosts from his palms in waves, where his blood pumps warmth back with a tingling feeling. He can’t deal with the emptiness between them. When she turns away from him, he clasps her wrist. “Aqua—”

“I’m done with the room.” She dodges his hold. She makes him feel like his touch is accidental. 

“Please…” He doesn’t say, Don’t slip from me again. What should he say? Stay? Can we go to your room?

He doesn't mention they were supposed to find a hiding place for themselves the night they were supposed to be Masters together. Do they even have the same dream anymore?

“There’s… a lot we need to talk about," he continues. "Between us. What happened in the Realm of Darkness. What happened the night before the Mark of Mastery?” 

She doesn’t say anything. Not at first. “I thought about that night all the time.”

“I did, too.” 

Again Aqua has no response. 

“There’s no going back, is there?” he asks, afraid of the answer. “For us?”

She doesn’t confirm.

“The mirror should help you see.” She slips away. The void screams when she silently leaves the room, past the firelight’s barrier. 

The hand mirror is as cold as her hands, unbending metal in his tight grip. He flips it over. In his reflection is himself—white hair, golden eyes, smirking in a way unnatural to him. Faded horns hover behind the crown of his head. The Guardian tucked away, a most loyal dog.

So Terra and this anti version of Aqua understand each other better than he realizes. Even with clothes on, they’re naked. She finds herself more powerful now than she was before, and can rely on her new strength. A comforting thought for her, not having to wait for others anymore.

The truth that matches hers? Terra was stronger when Darkness overtook him, too. And he hates himself for it. Hates himself for wishing Xehanort was alive and lingering in the back of his mind, trapped like Terra was, so Terra could ask what he should do about Aqua, and Xehanort the wise would have an answer.

He hates himself for being a dog in the first place. Isn’t the Guardian a literal manifestation of what Terra’s heart truly is? A Keybearer is supposed to be a source of Light—they need Light within their heart in order to summon a Keyblade. Maybe the Guardian is proof Terra shouldn’t wield one anymore. Maybe Earthshaker has been swallowed. 

He throws the mirror into the cauldron and listens to the glass shatter. Maybe this little shred of her Darkness would make his potion more powerful.

Terra gathers blankets from wardrobes that are still intact, and layers them together to make a bed between the loveseat and the coffee table. When he’s done filling vials with potions, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a crack too close to the chandelier. It could fall and crush him.

Terra exhales and suppresses the need to cry. He closes his eyes and rolls to his side, but the floor is too rock solid and his bones ache. He uses his arm as a pillow, and sighs. Given enough time, with the rain tapping on the windows and the fireplace alive with groans and cracks, Terra actually catches some sleep.

Until his eyes snap open in the middle of the night. The firelight is dead, and it’s black-dark. Rain still knocks on the windows. On his side, he’s looking at a shadow hiding under the table. The hair on his neck rises—whoever is there is staring back, and he expects a claw to smite and scratch him.

Lightning strikes—it illuminates no one looking back. 

Behind him though is a predator, sitting on the loveseat, watching his back. Terra pretends he’s still asleep. 

Ven apparently didn’t sleep much either. The next morning, Terra asks about Aqua. Ven says he woke up every hour and he noticed she spent the entire night not in her bed, but wandering the castle.

[lunar-years]

2, 5 and 8 for Ted Lasso for the ask game <3

2. a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

Jamie (very occasionally) soft-domming Roy. As a little treat for both of them.

Roy had a ring and planned to propose to Keeley in Marbella (because you know what, it's just like Roy to be like: Well, I fear this relationship is floundering and speed running towards it's inevitable conclusion. I know exactly what will fix it: a 6 week long holiday and a proposal! WHAT 🤦‍♀️ A disaster! ❌)

i'm not really a gay!Roy truther at all because i'm in too deep on the roykeeley/ot3 of it all, but I can set that aside to enjoy: so afraid that time will take it all from me by LikeAMovieIOnceSaw. It is a brilliant and exceptional fic that 100% had me fully believing in gay!Roy for the entirety of reading it.

5. something you see a lot in fics and love

use of the the following nicknames: Jay-Jay, Jay, Jam Tartt, Keels <3

during the post s2 hiatus I absolutely ate up any fic whatsoever where Jamie starts staying with RoyKeeley because of Heavy Circumstances, and what starts as 'temporary' quickly becomes something more permanent as they grow into a relationship

Jamie being injured on the pitch or from violence with his dad or what have you, and Roy and/or Keeley worrying and fretting over him. bonus points if he's in the hospital and Roy and Keeley are worrying and fretting at his bedside!

Roy taking Jamie home/over to Keeley's after Man City and taking care of him.

jamiegender stuff

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

the good stuff about s3 (it wasn't ALL bad you guys!!)

jamiekeeley at all stages

how romantic Roy is (dare I say he's the most romantic of the trio?)

Nate deserved redemption and his arc was much better than people will tell you it was (not perfect, obviously. but good!)

How happy Rebecca is in Amsterdam with Matthijs. "the real rebecca is silly" ...and what an embodiment of that her plot is Amsterdam is!! it was romcom material idc

Sam and Jamie best friendism. I feel like we DO appreciate this as a fandom and yet we still don't talk about them enough lol idk. you can never have too much samjamie appreciation.

Fandom Ask Game

[theidiotartistt]

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: Wrath of the Triple Goddess: The Senior Year Adventures, Book 2 A book by Rick Riordan:

Wrath of the Triple Goddess:💥🏛️🐕‍🦺🪄

A book blog by me~

*Personally, this book blew me away.*

Book Summary: 

The story begins in the lovely month of October, appreciating a rare moment of calm. Percy Jackson is gathering his credentials to attend New Rome University. However, his plans take a turn when he is summoned to the principal’s office and encounters yet another demanding god: Hecate, the Goddess of magic, crossroads, and necromancy. After threatening his very existence, she offers him a recommendation—a significant opportunity—on the condition that he and his friends pet-sit her polecat, Gale, and hellhound, Hecuba, over Halloween week while she enjoys the festivities (which she believes are in her honor as the goddess of necromancy).  

Easy enough, right? Wrong. Nothing is ever simple for this demigod-and-satyr trio.  

First, there were magical eels and three enchanted doorknobs—one that could predict the future, one that lied, and one that spouted random nonsense. Gale’s diet consisted of two entire uncooked chickens hanging from the ceiling each day, leaving a disgusting mess. Hecuba was hellish to walk, dragging Percy and his crew through the streets of New York, and Gale wasn’t much better.  

Then there was the strawberry ice cream–flavored potion left behind by Hecate, which was a recipe for disaster. Grover, whose only weaknesses are strawberry-flavored treats and caffeine, couldn’t resist. While Percy and Annabeth were busy with their senior year responsibilities, Grover took a taste, grew ten times his normal size, destroyed Hecate’s house, and lost her pets. At that point, any hope of escaping this pet-sitting adventure alive seemed lost—or so they thought.  

In their scramble to get their shit together before the goddess came back and gave them a magical/not so magical ass-whooping, Percy reunited with his beloved hellhound, Mrs. O’Leary. She introduced the group to an adorable abandoned hellhound puppy, which they named “Nope!”—because that was all it said.  

As the story unfolded, they learned more about Hecate’s pets. Hecuba, the hellhound, attempted to attack civilians with a rising undead army, which appeared to the mortals as an enormous rat infestation. After being touched by an undead soldier, Percy was confronted with Hecuba’s tragic past—the fall of Troy and the death of her children. He realized the pain she had carried for millennia and helped her feel seen and understood. This act of empathy allowed her to bond with the abandoned hellhound puppy, Nope. But not before Percy was drained of energy after Hecuba dragged him through shadow travel across multiple regions.  

Annabeth also had her own vision when touched by an undead soldier. Instead of people, she saw the destruction of architecture, which troubled her. Percy reminded her that the vision was what she needed to see, not a reflection of what she cared most about.  

Meanwhile, Gale was discovered to be under the control of the Nereids. In her past life, Gale was a witch whom Hecate took pity on, transforming her into a polecat after humans and gods alike doubted her abilities and wished for her downfall. The Nereids had forced Gale into labor by sending mechanical bees to sting her if she stopped moving. These same Nereids were linked to a past adventure involving Percy and Annabeth.  

During the fight with the Nereids, Percy developed camaraderie with Gale through another vision. In the battle, Percy grew tentacle arms, Annabeth ended up with an owl face, and Grover gained human feet (the worst transformation of all). When they finally freed Gale, Percy offered her the chance to become human again by sacrificing the last dose of the antidote. However, Gale chose to remain a polecat and keep her immortality, allowing Percy to take the antidote instead.  

With all the pets safely returned, the trio raised an undead army to rebuild Hecate’s destroyed home. The undead were led by a dictator-like colonialist who harbored resentment toward his mother, Hecate. Controlling the spirits to do their bidding, they managed to restore the house just in time, though they struggled quite a bit to keep them under control.  

But expelling the spirits on Halloween night proved even more challenging. Percy fought the spirits with his pen-sword, Grover acted as a ghostbuster to draw them away, and Annabeth used Hecate’s torches to guard the rebuilt house. Things seemed hopeless until a van of demigod campers arrived for the Halloween party and helped defeat the undead army. Together, they incapacitated the undead leader just long enough for Percy and Annabeth to cross Hecate’s torches and banish the spirits for good.  

When Hecate returned, everything appeared as it was—except for an empty soda bottle, which she assumed was left from a celebration of her. Percy faced a crossroads: tell her the truth or risk the pets’ futures. Choosing the selfless path, he told Hecate everything and advocated for Gale and Hecuba’s freedom. He also convinced her to reopen her magic school and allow his Nereid school counselor to run the program, addressing her regrets as the root cause of her house’s instability.  

In the end, Percy left everything better than he found it and reunited with his family, realizing that even as he prepared to leave for New Rome University, his roots in New York would always remain strong.  

My Connection:  

This book hit close to home for me as a rising senior. Grover’s anxiety about sabotaging his friends’ recommendation resonated deeply. While I don’t relate to his actions, I understand the fear of losing people you’ve grown with. The thought of everyone moving on to college feels like leaving behind a piece of myself since my friends are such a big part of my identity.  

Percy’s reunion with his family also struck a chord. It reminded me that no matter how far life takes you, the people and places you love will always stay connected to you. That was a comforting message as I think about the future. 

I have literally grown up with this book. The first time I picked up a book by this author was in 5th grade, and I have continued to tune into this world since that time. For that reason, I feel that this book also makes up part of my roots. Percy Jackson was one of those book series that first made me okay with being me. I had ADHD and was diagnosed at a very young age (which was lucky in hindsight, but it made me feel so alone). Growing up, my struggles with it were minimized and presented as my weakness, but through this series, I have come to realize that it was not my weakness but in fact a strength, as well as a struggle I would have to face head-on.

Though I don’t get a pen-sword or the power to fight hidden monsters because of my ADHD, it was nice to find a character I could so wholeheartedly relate to and feel empowered by. I also don’t feel that I am alone in this. Through its spunky language and presentation of struggles that so many can relate to, I feel that almost anyone could find a place in their heart for this book and that it too would leave a positive imprint on them.

LOVE YA PERCY JACKSON, ANNABETH AND GROVER ❤️❤️❤️

[astroboots]

A NEW DISASTER TRIO FIC LET'S GOOOO !!!! THANK U FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THIS CAUSE THAT IS LOVING FRANKIE AND SANTI YOUR EFFORTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !!! (also i hope you're doing well !!! your fics have been my bedtime stories for like the last 2 weeks,, just wanted to let u know <3)

Thank you for such a lovely message nonny it brought such a big smile to my face to log in and find this!!!

Disaster trio is my new favourite nickname for these three idiots 😂😂😂

[fanfictasia]

Disaster Trio Appreciation Week 2022 Day 1

Surprise

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from By My Side

Consciousness fades in as slowly as it always does, first with registering the way the Force is flowing and the presences nearby. Ahsoka is right next to him. Something is touching him, and while his first instinct is to brace himself for… something, it feels safe. He could never not recognize her presence and her touch, that of the child he raised himself. He feels the pressure on his right arm, but he senses her contact through the Force.

An even stronger presence vibrates next to her – Obi-Wan. That is… unusual. During the war, his master rarely had time to spare being here with him during times like this. Anakin forced back the surge of bitterness that follows the realization Obi-Wan is only here because he wants to know the information Anakin found – if anything. It shouldn’t matter, because of course, that’s why he’s here – he’s a Jedi.

And while he feels better than he did several days ago, he’s still slightly sore and most of all, his head is throbbing. This is probably what he hates most about being electrocuted. It’s also one of the reasons Anakin did not want to wake up, but he knew it’d happen eventually.

“Hey,” Ahsoka says cheerfully when he opens his eyes – the lights in the medbay are as glaringly white as they always are. Why do people do that?

“Ahsoka,” he replies, blinking a few times. He doesn’t feel fully awake yet, which is aggravating but expected. He’s never the prefect picture of health after Dooku captures him. “Thank you for coming.”

“That was all Master Obi-Wan,” she replies. She’s trying to be cheerful, and she is happy to have him back, but she’s also… angry. Scared. Anakin can sense it, even if she’s doing a remarkable job hiding it for the moment. “He’s right here, so thank him yourself.”

That’s what doesn’t quite make sense – why Obi-Wan would come all the way here instead of waiting until Anakin is out of here and actually ready to talk? And why would Ahsoka be here? Anakin knows before they would always be right beside each other – and Rex would usually be here, too, and Artoo, but this Ahsoka hardly knows him. They hadn’t yet established it… right? It’s confusing, but not unwelcome. He knew how close they could’ve gotten, but Ahsoka hardly knows him. Why would she be so worried about him? She hardly knows him.

He looks up, past his padawan. Obi-Wan is there, not quite as close, but he’s here. And, unlike Ahsoka, he doesn’t look terribly happy about anything. Anakin internally winces. “Master,” he greets him carefully, testing the waters. It’s best to see if he’s up to talking first.

“I warned you that was a foolish idea.”

“You didn’t offer a better one.” It’s an automatic response, but Anakin knows he should’ve said something else. Anything else – it’ll only make Obi-Wan angry.

“That is a poor excuse, Anakin.”

“It worked last time,” Anakin answers, looking away. “I should have known what he would do. I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan sighs, moving closer. “We will discuss that later. How are you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Anakin answers automatically. “I always am.”

“You could have died!” Ahsoka snaps, crossing her arms. She’s flipped out of her relief disturbingly quickly. “And that would have been my fault for letting you do something so stupid!”

“I’d have done it even if you hadn’t,” Anakin reminds. He pushes himself up, wincing when it pulls at the wound in his side – it’s still not healed yet. Obi-Wan moves forwards to steady him, his hands firm and warm on his shoulders.

“Careful,” he cautions. “You are still injured.”

“It’s minor,” Anakin waves him off. “I’ve had far worse, Master.”

“And,” Ahsoka adds seriously. “You’re an idiot.”

Only Ahsoka Tano could look her master dead in the eye and say ‘you’re an idiot’. A sudden surge of warmth spreads through his chest and he leans forwards, not caring that Obi-Wan is watching, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a startled squeak before wrapping her arms around him. She’s tiny but it feels so strangely right. Ahsoka’s lekku is pressed against his face. “I am grateful you were not with me,” Anakin says. “You may not have made it out.”

He senses Ahsoka’s surprise and confusion but she’s… happy. She feels at home here. Anakin wants to linger, to hold her like this forever, but they’re technically not supposed to. He pulls back, hands resting on her shoulders for another moment. They need to talk about everything later, as soon as they have time alone.

[disastertrio-appreciation-week]

It's time!!!! The prompts are here!!!!!

Shout out to the fantastic and beautiful @indigostars for her suggestions and kindness! Go check out her blog and AO3!!!!!

Here we go, everyone!!

Disaster Trio Appreciation Week Prompt List

1. Surprise

2. Green

3. Melody

4. Soft

5. Water

6. Pages

7. Constellations

Alternate Prompts

1. Wish

2. Link

3. Hopeful

Reminder that the week starts May 22nd!!! Be sure to check out the FAQs here and here. If you have any questions, please send me an ask or a message!! I'm happy to help!! See y'all around!!!

[gentlespace]

Disaster Trio Appreciation Week

Day 2: Green

Sometimes you just have to go off on your own and play with the flowers while your masters argue about putting up the tent

[thenegoteator]

disaster trio appreciation week day ??? - sleep

let disaster trio rest 2k21

[indigostars]

disaster trio appreciation week, day one: surprise

•

Anakin walks into the kitchen to the smell of something burning. Black smoke fills the air and he coughs, bringing a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to rid himself of any more inhalation.

It’s a valiant effort, though it’s effect is next to nothing.

A figure shifts slightly within the thickness. Anakin’s eyes water as they strain to pinpoint Ahsoka’s exact location.

“Ahsoka,” he wheezes, coughing once more, “what is going on here?”

“Sorry!” Ahsoka calls back, voice disembodied. “I was trying to make a cake!”

Anakin waves his hands in an attempt to clear the smoke, and it’s proven to be somewhat successful: he can see the tips of Ahsoka’s montrals clearly.

“Can I ask why?”

“It’s Obi-Wan’s birthday!” Ahsoka says, sounding distressed.

“What?” Anakin says, confused. “Snips, his birthday isn’t until next week!”

“Yeah, I know, but we’re being deployed to Ryloth and we won’t have time to celebrate then!”

“Okay, okay,” Anakin says. “But we can discuss this after we get this smoke dispersed.”

Ahsoka grumbles but obliges, finally emerging from the cloud. Her skin is slightly darkened by the soot, and Anakin almost laughs at how miserable she looks.

She glares at Anakin, unamused, before stalking to the window shoving it open. “Don’t say anything.”

Anakin looks at the blackened lump on the counter.

“Why didn’t you just ask for my help?”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. “Like you know how to bake a cake.”

“I know how to bake a cake!” Anakin protests, ignoring how high his voice gets.

“The cake you made when you were twelve says otherwise,” Obi-Wan interjects from behind, and Anakin and Ahsoka whirl around to face him. Obi-Wan gives them an smile. “I smelled something burning.”

Anakin raises his hands. “It wasn’t me this time. And I was twelve, by the way.”

Obi-Wan only raises an eyebrow. “And when you were eighteen?”

Ahsoka snorts. “So your help wouldn’t have done anything helpful.”

“Maybe not,” Anakin mumbles, “but you’re just as pathetic as I am when it comes to food.”

“You take that back!” Ahsoka screeches, punching him in the arm.

“Ahsoka, why were you making a cake?” Obi-Wan asks before Anakin can hash out any kind of retaliation.

“Uh…” Ahsoka says, deflating.

“It’s supposed to be your birthday cake,” Anakin informs Obi-Wan. “But I don’t suppose that you’d want to have some charcoal instead?”

Obi-Wan eyes the burnt cake, looking half apologetic and half amused. “I suppose for my safety, I probably shouldn’t. Sorry, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka makes a defeated noise and slumps into a chair. “I wanted you to have a good birthday. At least, I wanted to celebrate it while we still can.”

“And we can,” Obi-Wan says. “There’s more than one way to celebrate a birthday.”

Anakin snaps his fingers. “We can go to Dex’s. He’s got some great milkshakes.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ahsoka says, brightening up. “I heard he’s got this new starfruit flavor—”

“We’re not going to Dex’s,” Obi-Wan protests.

“Oh, yes we are!” Anakin says, pushing Obi-Wan out the door, and Ahsoka bounds behind them happily.

“I’m driving!”

“No you’re not!”

[ahhrenata]

Day 2 | Lost

when anakin has an ‘i thought you said weast moment’

I feel like I’ve been drawing way less than usual lately and this appreciation week gave me an excuse to do a couple doodles. So thank you @disastertrio-appreciation-week !

[g1ngerbeer]

DISASTER TRIO APPRECIATION WEEK 2021 // day 1 - hands

this is quite possibly the most Basic way i could have gone about this but shh it’s the Phalanges Practice

[the-13th-battalion]

IT'S HAPPENING!!!!! More info will be posted on the official blog here!!!!!

so last night I had this idea for a disaster trio week thing??? where there were prompts for the whole week and everyone created fluffy adorable disaster trio things and I loved it so much but idk how to make it happen and idk when or if I should even do it???? idk idk I'm still barely awake help

[starrykorra]

for disaster trio appreciation week, day 4: sleep

im super nervous to post any of my art even if its this quick sketch but here!!! disaster trio my beloved!! <33

[exomal]

holding the relics of the past in your hand

[ahsokryze]

Disaster Trio Appreciation Week

Day 2 - Lost

~~~

"Are you sure this is the right way, Master?"

"Just a minute, Snips," Anakin replied, not fully paying attention, as Ahsoka watched him fiddle with the controls of the speeder. There were a few beeps, blinking lights. "Ughh, stupid thing..."

A red light blinked, Anakin mumbled something under his breath, before suddenly—

grrrrrrrrrrrkk

The speeder stuttered to a stop, the engine powering down with a whir.

"Oh dear."

"Ugghhhhh," Anakin groaned, slamming his head down against the now blacked out control panel in front of him.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, exasperation clear in his voice as Ahsoka watched him pull Anakin back upright, away from the control panel. "I know this situation is less than ideal, but please don't hurt yourself over it."

read more on ao3