#girl they made prometheus boring

[cockworkangels]

another one to watch on 2x speed like idc

[umbry-fic]

new Paradise(memory = null);

Summary: She awakens from emptiness, and witnesses a God descend.

Fandom: Arcaea Characters: Hikari, Tairitsu Relationships: Hikari/Tairitsu Rating: T Word Count: 2603 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 25/06/2023

Notes+Warnings: This is a canon divergence fic that contains spoilers for Final Verdict and Silent Answer! It's basically Silent Answer Ending A but two steps to the right. It's not a happy fic, and there is no happy ending here.

~~~

Awareness tugged at the threads of her mind, sluggishly pulling her from the empty void upon which she had floated - for how long, she did not know. Back into the world of the living, where she struggled to open heavy eyelids, a whisper echoing in her head, telling her that she had to wake up.

The world that met her was far too bright, a blinding white that seared itself onto the backs of her eyelids when she screwed her eyes shut instantly, wondering if she could sink back into blissfully quiet darkness.

An icy hand closed around her heart, sharp icicles digging into her flesh, refusing to let her slip away. The whisper had sharpened into a scream, one that she knew wouldn’t go away even if she clapped her hands over her ears - it had embedded itself deep in her mind, grating against its edges.

Continuously, as if stuck in an endless loop, it implored that there was something she had to do. Surely, she must exist for some purpose, and it was her responsibility to discover what it was.

But how could she ever do that when she couldn’t even recall her name, her mind a barren expanse that yielded nothing?

“You’re awake.” The words were muttered in a quiet voice that brushed against her skin, finally quieting the maelstrom within her head. In the silence that pressed upon her shoulders, she opened her eyes once more.

Who am I? was what she wished to ask. It was a sensible question that would give her one of the most critical puzzle pieces needed to fill in the gaps.

“Are you God?” was what slipped from her instead, a girl with no name and no purpose, staring in awe at the figure looming over her.

What she had thought to be the sky revealed itself to be infinite panes of glass, rotating in place, their edges catching the light. They broke apart, gathering together to form flocks. Like birds, each with their own personalities - some skittish and skirting away, some daring and swooping through the air. All clearly under the command of the figure that was the centre of it all - a girl clad in elegant white, hair seeming to float around her knees, piercing pink eyes trained on her.

With but a single wave of the other girl’s gloved hand, all the glass seemed to lose their life, raining from the sky to fall like downed birds upon the ground below. A dizzying display of power that made her heart pound in her chest.

Something told her that if the other girl wanted, she could control this entire world - make it bend to her every whim, reshape it to her very image. Then wouldn’t it make sense for her to have created this physical form she now resided in? In the same manner that Prometheus had moulded men out of clay, before Athena had breathed the gift of life into them.

The other girl came closer, hands clasped serenely before her, her pink eyes boring into her own, sending shivers up her spine. Something lurked in their depths, something that she could not discern.

“No, I’m not.” She smiled sadly, kneeling next to her. A God, fallen from the Heavens, lowering herself to the level of mortals. Perfection, lovely in its magnificence, and equally as deadly. All that broke that image of perfection was a lone black ribbon, tied into a sloppy bunny-ear loop that drooped against the side of her dress. An anomaly that she so wished she could delve into and pull apart.

“My name is Hikari, and yours is Tairitsu.”

Every word that fell from Hikari’s lips pulled taut the invisible string that connected them, dragging her closer, close enough that perhaps they might become one. She could not help but swallow, her throat suddenly dry, utterly still as a hand cupped her cheek, stroking softly.

The spell broke when Hikari’s hand dropped to curl around her wrist, bidding her rise on wobbly legs. She rolled the name she’d been given around in her mouth, contemplating its shape. It seemed right, even if her memories were still but a blank, locked behind a door that her name did not unlock.

She gasped, as all of a sudden Hikari’s grip tightened, nails digging into her skin. Not waiting for her to start walking, the other girl stalked away, forcing her to stumble forward or suffer a painful fall.

“Let’s go.”

It was not a suggestion. It was a statement, a declaration of will that could not be shattered.

Without a word, Tairitsu followed.

~~~

Spending every moment with Hikari became her entire life. All that it was, and nothing more.

It was not a bad life to lead, not by any means. She was never alone, her and Hikari’s fingers interlocked as they wandered this strange world that was devoid of any life but their two flames, flickering lonelily.

They would sit on the edges of crumbling ruins together, staring out over emptiness, Hikari beckoning for her to rest her head in her lap. She would acquiesce, her eyes fluttering shut as a gentle hand ran through her hair.

Occasionally, Hikari would pull down a shard of glass and stretch it into a doorway, taking her hand and leading her through. Guiding her to explore memories of other worlds, bright colours that could never appear in their world of glass seeming to pop around every corner, vibrant and beautiful. Only in moments like these would the stiffness in Hikari’s shoulders fade away, the restraint that she always possessed fading away to reveal an excited child that could light up Tairitsu’s heart whenever she broke into a smile.

When night fell, they would lay next to each other on the ground, Hikari’s arm inevitably wrapping around her waist and holding her close, until she drifted away surrounded by warmth, quieting all the thoughts that swam in her head. Once morning broke, she would retie the ribbon on Hikari’s dress, chiding her for not learning to do it herself. Hikari would chuckle, whispering that she would always have someone to help her, the words never failing to bring a flush to Tairitsu’s cheeks.

It was a peaceful life. One that sorrow could not interrupt, where tragedy was but a faraway dream. It was a life that could go on, unerringly, for all eternity without interruption.

Perhaps another person would be satisfied with this. A paradise where one would be forever protected, where one’s vulnerable heart could never be broken.

Yet she could not hide behind an illusion, pushing away all the inconvenient facts she did not want to see.

Hikari never fully let her guard down, always on alert for threats that may not even exist, the shards of glass that followed her everywhere sharpening into a javelin at the most minute of sounds. If Tairitsu strayed out of her sight for even a second, Hikari would materialise right next to her, scaring the very soul out of her body. What followed would be a cold fury that Tairitsu was sure swept out across all the land, freezing the blood in her body and causing her breaths to quicken. It was a wonder that they did not crystallise upon leaving her.

Sometimes, she would awaken to Hikari watching her, that same unknown thing from before swimming in her eyes. And then her expression would shutter, returning to neutrality.

No matter what, though, any question Tairitsu attempted to voice crashed into a brick wall, making no progress. Hikari refused to answer anything, the glare she shot Tairitsu’s way enough to get her to clam her mouth shut.

And on nights when she couldn’t find the solace of sleep, the thoughts running round and round in her head intensifying to a cacophony… She would stay completely still within Hikari’s embrace, gaze fixed on the ribbon she had helped tie that very morning, a replica of the one on her own dress.

~~~

“Hikari? What do you think of the truth?” she asked, hands clasped in her lap to hide the tremble of her fingers.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hikari replied, her fingers, which had been drumming on her thighs, coming to a pause.

“Do you think the truth is the most important thing?” She pushed forward, desperately trying to ignore the terror that occupied her heart - a nasty, scaled beast that only grew stronger with each second. Despite Hikari’s claim to the contrary, she must surely hold absolute dominion over this world, able to control every facet. If such was the case, she could cease to exist at any second, if Hikari so willed it.

But she did not look away. To do so would be to admit defeat, and she could do no such thing. Not just for her own sake, but for Hikari’s sake as well.

“Wouldn’t you say happiness is the most important thing?” Hikari said softly, stilling completely. “If you’re happy, who cares about the truth?”

“I…” She bit her lip hard, tasting iron against her tongue.

“If the truth threatens my happiness, then I will not hesitate to destroy it.” Hikari’s gaze rose to meet hers. Cold and empty once more, lacking any of the gentle warmth that was usually directed at her. Glass swirled around her like a typhoon, some pieces shattering into dust beneath the weight of her rage.

The warning in those words was crystal clear.

And she heeded them, dropping her gaze, not wishing to suffer the same fate.

~~~

She needed to know. No matter what she did, the doubts, the questions, refused to quieten. Who was she, really? Why did some of these places, some of these paths, seem familiar to her? Why were there echoes of thoughts, of distant emotion? Like starbursts behind her eyes, whispers of rage that almost keeled her over, before Hikari’s caring hands brushed them all away.

And it wasn’t just for herself. She wanted to know, so that she could understand why Hikari was so shrouded in sorrow. She wished to close the abyss between them and truly embrace the other girl - soothe the pain that festered in her heart, and allow happiness to truly take root again.

She could not simply forget, could not give up the past and live only in the present, thinking not of the future, as Hikari wanted. Even if time’s flow could not be reversed, she couldn’t give up.

In the dead of night, when the world slept soundly, she untangled herself from Hikari, staring down at her sleeping form. She seemed so peaceful like this; every crease of her brow smoothed away, making her seem far more youthful.

Whispering an apology within the safe confines of her mind, unable to risk saying it aloud, she scrambled to her feet, tiptoeing a distance away before she began to move normally. Really, it didn’t matter. Hikari must be able to see across this entire world. How else did she always find her so quickly?

Her only choice was to get back before Hikari stirred. Whether she bypassed detection, whether she was caught… It mattered not. It all ended tonight.

She didn’t have a destination in mind. She simply followed her buried instinct, letting it drag her in one direction, a thread tied tightly around her finger.

It didn’t take long before her path was blocked by an invisible wall that rippled when she poked it, revealing itself to be an impenetrable wall of glass. Almost certainly set up by Hikari to hide an ugly truth behind it. The closer she had gotten, the more goosebumps had risen on her arms, nausea rolling over her as she swallowed down bile.

Pulling upon the thread that extended into herself, she focussed, gritting her teeth as she savagely tugged against the resistance barring her way. Tearing and tearing, forcing her way through sticky honey until the glass yielded to her control, a hole ripping open in the wall, large enough to glance through.

Within were the nondescript ruins of a church. The walls were crumbling, lone pillars stabbing into the sky. The roof was torn away entirely, surely in some epic struggle, random stones strewn across the ground.

Haunting, certainly, but what -

A wave of raw emotion forced her to her knees, the deluge of memories slamming into her enough to make her scream in agony, her heart feeling like it was going to rip apart. Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession - sitting in the pews of the church facing Hikari’s hopeful smile, hope that soon soured into angered desperation, a frenzied battle over earth and sky, and a sword -

The same sword that now pierced through her stomach, bringing her recollection to a screeching halt.

Reaching a trembling hand to the tip, she glanced down at her wound. There was no blood, just as there was no pain singing through her body. Only cracking glass, rippling outwards from the wound.

It answered all of her questions.

“I suppose, no matter what I do, you’ll always want to know the truth. But I cannot let you remember your hatred of me,” Hikari murmured, genuine sadness painted over her face as she let go of the sword’s grip, letting it dissolve into glass that returned to the sky. She caught her failing body, all strength fleeing from it as she collapsed.

I… I wouldn’t have…

“That’s just you, and I do love that. No matter how many times this must happen.” A gentle hand cradled her face, another reaching to undo the ribbon tied to her chest as lips brushed against her forehead.

With the last of the will she could gather, she reached out a hand that was nothing more than fractured glass, grinding together. Trying as hard as she could to cross that abyss that had divided them this whole time, now that she was so close, finally within reach…

I just wanted… To save… You…

She wheezed, unable to form the words, the consciousness that had been formed from wisps of a soul and tied in place by a fragile body made of lies beginning to escape now that its vessel had been destroyed. Dissolving into the sky, as all that she was vanished.

And then there was nothing but blissful darkness.

~~~

Awareness tugged at the threads of her mind, sluggishly pulling her from the empty void upon which she had floated - for how long, she did not know. Back into the world of the living, where she struggled to open heavy eyelids, a whisper echoing in her head, telling her that she had to wake up.

The world that met her was far too bright, a blinding white that seared itself onto the backs of her eyelids when she screwed her eyes shut instantly, wondering if she could sink back into blissfully quiet darkness.

“You’re awake.” The words were muttered in a quiet voice that brushed against her skin, imploring her to open her eyes once more.

Who am I? was what she wished to ask.

“Are you God?” was what slipped from her instead, a girl with no name and no purpose, staring in awe at the figure looming over her.

The other girl stayed silent for some time, contemplating her answer, a smile slowly spreading across her face. One that could be described as serene, if not for the terrifying emptiness that yawned in her eyes.

The shards of glass in the sky rained down like feathers, forming the wings of a glorious angel behind her, two black ribbons fluttering on the sides of her dress.

“Yes, I am.”

[the-haylien]

What I've Been Watching On Netflix

Big Bug

Big Bug is a fairly good series full of robots acting badly. It's a Sci-Fi black comedy from France.

Godzilla: King of Monsters

I watched these out of order, so I almost turned it off. But I'm glad I stayed through the end. It was worth the watch. Rogue scientists race to reset the balance of humanity by awakening monsters. Godzilla rises to fend off the Titans.

The Midnight Sky

George Clooney does sci-fi in a slow-moving post-apocalyptic story about a lonely scientist in the Arctic. He works to stop astronauts from returning to a global catastrophe on Earth.

Atypical

I enjoyed this comedy-drama series set in Connecticut. It focuses on 18-year-old Sam Gardner, who is on the autism spectrum. But we get to know the whole family and their various quirks and foibles.

Chimp Empire

An excellent documentary about our cousins' culture.

Prometheus

I didn't know this was the 5th installment of the Alien franchise. I began to suspect as familiar objects appeared and the action progressed. Actually, it was a quite satisfying way to watch it!

The Social Dilemma

Billed as a docudrama, this is about the negative effects of social media. It may be informative if you live under a rock, but I did keep watching to the end.

You Are What You Eat: A Twin Experiment

I learned that little things in your diet can make a big difference in your health. Our food system is screwed up. You can look slim on the outside and still be fat on the inside. A lot of doctors are still not educated on what a healthy diet consists of. I also lost my appetite for animal protein.

School Spirits

Not another High School series! But I liked it. Maddie investigates her own murder at the local high school. She meets other ghosts from different eras and becomes friends with them. They are all trying to figure out how to move on.

65

Humans discovered Earth 65 million years ago. After a crash landing, an astronaut finds a girl from one of the other ships and works to get her off the dangerous planet. Slow moving, but it works well.

Lift

Heist comedy worth $500B in gold bullion. Exciting. You can see the twist coming.

LIve to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones

Another long drawn-out documentary. Nothing you haven't heard before, except the Blue Zones are shrinking and disappearing. You need to do some work to create your own Blue Zone.

Detective Forst

Polish detective movies are in their own genre: grungy, dark, brutal, complicated, frenetic, blurred lines of right and wrong, survival against the odds.

Cowboys and Aliens

A spaceship arrives in 1873 Arizona. Yeah, okay, good movie. But it begs the question, why are aliens who are smart enough to build an interstellar spacecraft so brutal, running around naked, trying to kill everyone? So they are the advance-testors, but even so.

A Trip to Infinity

A documentary about the concept of infinity filled with enough explanatory moments to give us a brief idea about the endlessness of the universe.

Level 16

A mostly boring, science fiction B-movie. Nothing to see here people. Move along.

The Magicians

Fantasy with depth and young adult angst. I never watched season five, so I watched the whole thing from the beginning again. I also read the novels at least three times. You probably won't believe me when I claim to like hard science fiction better. But you would be correct to say that I love Mr. Grossman's story. I am satisfied with the TV series timeline.

Made in Italy

Starring Liam Neeson and real-life son, Micheál Neeson, this film is about a father and son who travel to Italy to sell a house they inherited. The film examines themes of art, loss, and family.

Queer Eye: Season 8

So nice to have the Fab 5 back on my screen, but oh so short! This season seemed a bit too slick, but I loved it anyway. What am I going to do without them?

Orion and the Dark

This is a kid's animated movie. It's a bit jumpy--maybe that's a reflection of the neurotic kid who's afraid of everything. Just when you're thinking it's over and that was real short, it starts in again.

Rim of the World

Another kid's movie. Not much to see in this poorly developed sci-fi movie. Crudely pasted together: for example, an injured child with vital information is unconscious, then up and running when it is time to go. Lots of running around in circles because there is nothing better to do, and the movie needs to be longer.

Anon

This is future hi-tech criminal noir. How can you get away with murder when everyone records what they see? Great science fiction.

Alexander: the Making of a God

A dramatized documentary. Very enjoyable, but they draw things out. It probably could have been done in half the episodes. I enjoyed hearing the historians interviewed as much as I liked watching the dramatic presentations.

Freaks

Science fiction story. Some humans have new powers and are being discriminated against out of fear. They fight for their life.

Einstein and the Bomb

Another dramatized documentary. All of Einstein's words were taken from real life. A good show for the most part.

Pluto

Anime about strong robots with strong AI.

[lemonlover1110]

Things That Don't Work Out

S. Gojo

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Friends with benefits never works out, and he showed you why.

WARNINGS: NSFW!Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Angst No Comfort, Gojo Is An Asshole, Unrequited Love

Sometimes not thinking things through is the cause of so much sorrow. Tears fell down your cheeks as you were reminded that he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his. It wasn’t intentional. He had set the ground rules from the very beginning and even though you were willing to comply, your heart didn’t.

The funny thing about the heart is that it can’t be as easily manipulated as the brain.  Because while you told yourself that you wouldn’t catch feelings for him, you cried on the floor of some bathroom, trying to soothe yourself after seeing him with some other woman.

He made it so clear since the beginning that he only wanted you for your body, and now you cried over it. It was embarrassing, and you couldn’t talk to anyone about it because they warned you. Satoru Gojo didn’t settle with anyone.

Now you tried to fix yourself, while tears still wet your face. Never had you felt so pathetic. You thought you were stronger than this but even the strongest people have a weak point. You had to go back there before someone came to check up on you.

You finally calmed down and fixed your messed up makeup. You took a deep breath before going back out. You went back to where you left Shoko, where you found her drinking with Suguru. She was quick to tell that something was wrong with you but she didn’t ask, not wanting to bring up your personal business in front of Suguru.

She knew why you felt this way when she saw him with some random girl on his arm. It was her Prometheus trait, she knew from the very first moment you told her about your type of relationship with Satoru that something like this would happen.

Suguru made conversation and you entertained it before he got bored and went to talk with someone else. Shoko stood by your side the rest of the night. And when you got bored you decided it was best to leave the place. He stood by the front door but you didn’t care to even look his way.

But he finally noticed you for the first time of the night so he wanted to greet you, as if some other girl didn’t have her arm wrapped around his. He made sure he was loud enough for you to hear, calling out your name. You looked at him. He smiled. “Hey it’s so nice seeing you here.”

You just stared at him for a couple of seconds before turning your head and exiting the house. You got in your car and drove home, with the intention of forgetting him.

-

There was pounding on your door, causing you to wake up. You got up from bed and put on a robe before walking to the door. You checked who it was through the peephole before seeing him. You sighed, walking back to bed because you knew better than to make the same mistake twice.

You heard him call out your name through the door, which made you stop in your tracks. You felt your heart pounding. And maybe you knew better but you were a fool. You would make the same mistakes again for him. Which would lead to your emotional downfall, which in the long term wasn’t worth it but in the short term it would make you euphoric.

Opening the door would be an idiotic thing to do, but you still did it. He smiled as he looked at you, your rob covering your pajamas, your hair a bit messed up due to the fact that you had been sleeping.

“Ah, didn’t mean to wake you from your slumber, doll.” He said. You crossed your arms, and he entered the apartment, closing the door behind him. Once he locked the door, he turned to face you, walking towards you and caressing your cheek. “It hurt me when you didn’t say hi back.”

“Oh? Really? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” There was a clear tone of indifference in your voice. His hand stopped caressing your cheek and it wrapped around your throat, bringing you closer to him. He began to leave a trail of kisses along your jaw.

“Who do you think you are talking to me like that?” He asked before biting down on your skin, not so harsh that it could cause you to shriek but hard enough to leave a mark.

“‘Toru let’s not.” You began as his free hand tried to pull the robe off you.

“Why not, doll? You know you want it.” He spoke. While your body gave in, your mind told you to run away. You had to stop him. You couldn’t do it again.

“Who was she?” You asked, making him chuckle.

“So this is because of her? She’s nobody, forget about her.” He responded. “And even if she was, we’re not together or did you forget about our arrangement?”

“How could I forget when you reminded me of it today.” You told him. He put his lips on yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip, wanting entrance to your mouth. You wouldn’t budge. You wanted to give in but your brain was still in control. You had judgement.

He kept trying since you wouldn’t push him away. His hand stopped gripping your neck, and it moved behind your back, stopping at your ass. He lightly tapped it, not earning any sort of reaction from you. He did end up pulling away.

You both just stared at each other for a moment. A couple of strands of hair were covering his eyes, you pushed them to the side so he could get a good look at you. There was no purpose you thought. Whether you gave in or not, you’d feel the same way so you might as well give in and have temporary satisfaction.

You closed the gap between you this time, and he was quick to give in. His tongue invaded your mouth and was quick to press against yours. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, while his hands moved to your waist.

When you pulled away, he tried to fight off a smirk. He knew you would give in. You were wrapped around his finger and it was evident. The way you would giggle at his every joke, the way you were unintentionally touchy, the way you started to try to look good every time he came around. It was hard not to notice. He felt bad, he knew this wasn’t good for you but he had his needs and he would care more to satisfy those than to protect your feelings.

You let go for a second and were quick to grab his hand to lead him to your bedroom. You couldn’t leave room for thought because you knew if you thought about it too much, you’d kick him out. He pushed you onto the bed, a smirk on his face as he looked at you.

“I knew you’d give in, doll.” He told you as he pushed down his grey sweatpants. “Good girls always give in.” He pushed down his boxers as well. “Now suck me off like the good girl you are.”

You sat up and took his cock into your hand. You stroked it a couple of times before your tongue licked the tip. You focused on swirling your tongue for a couple of minutes before bobbing your head and taking his whole length in your mouth.

You gagged a bit, but you would always take it because that’s how he liked it. He hissed at the feeling of your heavenly mouth wrapped around his cock. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

You looked up at him to find his head tilted back, his mouth parted open. Just as your hand was moving up to play with his balls but before you could do that he began to move his hips. If you weren’t gagging before, you definitely were now.

“Can’t handle it, doll?” He teased. His balls smacked against your chin that was covered in drool. You just looked up at him, hoping he’d look back to see the mess he was making out of you. He didn’t look down at you until his cum hit the back of your throat.

He finally took his cock out of your mouth, and he pushed you back down onto the bed. He flipped you over before pulling up your nightgown and pushing your panties to the side. He didn’t care to tease and hear your whining. He slowly entered his cock into your cunt, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust before beginning to move.

He first moved slowly, which wasn’t too much to handle. One hand was on your hip while the other forced you to arch better, just like he liked it. He smirked as he heard your moans. He was such a horrible person for being here but he loved to hear that sound.

“Is it good, doll?” He asked, and you didn’t respond. Your head was in the clouds and you hadn’t even orgasmed yet. He just had the perfect size and it filled you up so good. He knew how to use it, and he knew how to please you which is why everything started. “Taking it like a good girl.”

And it was wrong because you wanted him in a way that you shouldn’t. He made it clear from the very start that he only wanted you for one thing, and you thought you’d be okay with it. You were so okay the few times he fucked you senseless and you wondered how you could ever catch feelings for him because what he displayed wasn’t love.

It wasn’t love, it wasn’t affection, it was nothing that should make a person feel butterflies in their stomach. It was pure filth as the noise of your wetness filled up the room due to his rapid thrusts. The sound of skin smacking in the room, and the moans that you both let out because the pleasure was too great, wasn’t anything romantic but sinful. “So good for me, pretty girl.”

The sweet stuff he whispered wasn’t anything but fake. It was empty, not meaning behind it whatsoever so why did your heart believe it?

“Almost there, doll?” He asked as he reached under to play with your clit while you began to clench around him. Your moans got louder and louder as you came around his cock. He now chased his release, both of his hands now gripping tightly your hips.

He began to slow down his thrusts. He pulled out and came over the small part of your back that was exposed and your nightgown. You had to get off the bed and take off the nightgown, while he was planning on leaving that made him stop. He was hard again as he looked at your almost completely nude body.

You watched as he took off his shirt and got on the bed. He didn’t want to cuddle but you would trick yourself that he would. You took off your panties and laid down next to him, facing him. He threw your leg over his’ and lined himself up with your entrance.

He pushed himself inside you, not caring to go slow since you just took him a minute ago. You had to close your eyes as he moved, the pleasure being so great.

“Satoru-” You moaned. That’s all you ever said since the very first time you slept together but he just felt as if you said it differently and he didn’t like that. But he still said something. He didn’t mean to fuck with you but he did.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know?” He whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. You buried your face in his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment. It was disappointing to say the least, to not find his heart beating the same way yours did. “My doll.”

“S’ good-” You said. The only thing keeping you from crying was the fact that his cock was buried in your cunt, and it was making you feel so good. Your hand went down to play with your clit. “Toru-”

“That’s it- Fuck-” He moaned as you clenched around him again. Your legs quivered as you came again. It didn’t take too long for him to come as well, pulling out and releasing his cum onto your stomach, and bed sheets.

You two just remained still for a minute. But then he grabbed your leg and pushed it off him. You wrapped your arm around him, trying to stop him from leaving. “Let’s cuddle.”

“It’s best if we don’t.” He responded, getting your arm off him. He sat up, and you did the same. You were quick to throw your head on his lap, stopping him from standing up.

“Just for five minutes.” You insisted, he got your head off his lap and made you look at him. There was no spark in his eyes, like there were sparks in yours.

“I don’t want to be with you. You’re only good for a fuck, nothing else.” He told you, making your eyes widen. Your heart broke right then and there, this was so much worse than seeing him with another woman. It was clearer than water that this wasn’t love. “Now let me be.”

He got up from the bed and you didn’t care to follow after him, still too shocked by his words. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was hard as you watched him dress up. Tears began to spill out and you wanted them to stop but just couldn’t. A sob came from your lips, causing him to look over and click his tongue.

“You knew this from the very start, doll. I don’t want you in that way.” He began, which obviously didn’t help. He walked over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to wipe your tears as if he didn’t do anything wrong. You slapped his hand away. “How rude-”

“Stop it, get out!” You snapped. A mix of emotions flowing through your body. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“You’ll come around.” He nonchalantly responded as he got up from bed. He didn’t need you in the end. He did have his needs but other people could satisfy him. But he knew that you were wrapped around his finger and would do anything for him.

He felt slightly bad for causing you to feel this way but he had to satisfy his needs with someone and he memorized your address. Maybe he shouldn’t have said “my” or whispered sweet nothings into your ear, but he wouldn’t think too much about how it was his fault that you felt like this.

When he finally left you all alone, you cried because cupid’s arrow had hit you but it completely missed Satoru. Now you were left with this heartbreak alone and with no way to fix it, other than by crying it out.

He told you from the very start that he wanted you for your body, so you blamed yourself for all of this.

[hekateanwitchcraft]

An Introduction to Worshipping Medeia

As a Hellenic witch, the worship of Medeia is an important part of my practice. She was a witch and priestess of Hekate, possessing nearly unparalleled knowledge of magic and poisons. I wanted to write this post to give some background on who Medeia is, her role as a witch and a priestess, and how I have come to honor her in my practice.

Who is Medeia?

Parentage

Medeia (Μήδεια) is given mainly two parentages, either Aeetes, son of Helios, and Eidyia, daughter of Oceanus, or Hekate and Aeetes. Hesiod offers us a description of the first, writing:

“To the tireless Sun the renowned Oceanid Perseïs bore Circe and King Aeetes. Aeetes, son of the Sun who makes light for mortals, married by the gods’ design another daughter of Oceanus the unending river, fair-cheeked Idyia; and she bore him the trim-ankled Medea, surrendering in intimacy through golden Aphrodite” (Hesiod 31)

Alternatively, Diodorus names Hekate and Aeetes as her parents, explaining:

“Perses had a daughter, Hecate, and she excelled her father in her brazen lawlessness...She was a keen contriver of mixtures of deadly drugs [pharmaka], and she discovered the so-called aconite. She tested the powers of each drug by mixing it into the food given to strangers...After this she married Aeetes and gave birth to two daughters, Circe and Medea, and also a son Aigialeus” (qtd. in Ogden 78)

Either of these parentages could make sense, but I personally observe the first.

(Art: Medea by Frederick Sandys)

Medeia as the Witch Priestess of Hekate

One of Medeia’s most important roles in literature and myth is that she is a priestess of Hekate and a witch, being called “Medea of the many spells” (Apollonius of Rhodes 109). In most literature there is no way to separate these roles. 

She was extremely devoted to Hekate, Apollonius of Rhodes stating that “as a rule she did not spend her time at home, but was busy all day in the temple of Hecate, of whom she was priestess” (116). Euripides also writes that Medea says “I swear it by her, my mistress, whom most I honor and have chosen as partner, Hecate, who dwells in the recesses of my hearth” (Euripides 13). Clearly, the relationship between her and Hekate was very close, and it was said on occasion that she even learned magic from Hekate, Herself. Apollonius of Rhodes writes that “[t]here is a girl living in Aeetes’ palace whom the goddess Hecate has taught to handle with extraordinary skill all the magic herbs that grow on dry land or in running water” (123). Diodorus also claims this, but adds an interesting addendum that attributes to the character of Medeia:

“They report that Medea learned all the powers of drugs from her mother [Hekate] and her sister [Kirke], but her own inclination was the opposite. For she continually saved the strangers that put in from dangers” (qtd. in Ogden 79)

(Art: Medea the Sorceress by Valentine Cameron Prinsep)

Regardless of the origins of her powers, they were no doubt incredible. Apollonius of Rhodes explains that “she can put out a raging fire, she can stop rivers as they roar in spate, arrest a star, and check the movement of the sacred moon” (123). In one instance Apollonius states that “the beautiful Medea spell through the palace, and for her the very doors responding to her hasty incantations swung open of their own accord...From there she meant to reach the temple. She knew the road well enough, having often roamed in that direction searching for corpses and noxious roots, as witches do” (148). This is clearly an indicator that her powers are incredible, but what is even more awe-inspiring is what Apollonius says happens next:

“Rising from the distant east, the Lady Moon [Selene], Titanian goddess, saw the girl wandering distraught, and in wicked glee said to herself: ’So I am not the only one to go astray for love, I that burn for beautiful Endymion and seek him in the Latmian cave. How many times, when I was bent on love, have you disorbed me with your incantations, making the night moonless so that you may practice your beloved witchcraft undisturbed!” (148).

Medeia is said to be able to actually banish the moon Herself from the sky, an unimaginable feat. This is indicative of the degree of power she possesses, having sway over nature itself.

She is most known to have used her knowledge and powers repeatedly to help Jason, her husband, on his quest for the Golden Fleece. The first instance of this was that she made Jason an ointment which would make him invincible. Apollonius describes this in length, writing that:

“She had twelve maids, young as herself and all unmarried...She called them now and told them to yoke the mules to her carriage at once, as she wished them to drive to the spending Temple of Hecate; and while they were getting the carriage ready she took a magic ointment form her box. This salve was named after Prometheus. A man had only to smear it on his body, after procreating the only-begotten Maiden [Hekate] with a midnight offering, to become invulnerable by sword or fire” (131-2)

He continues, detailing the ritual of how she obtained the plant she used to make this ointment:

“Medea, clothed in black, in the gloom of night, had drawn off this juice in a Caspian shell after bathing in seven perennial streams and calling seven times on Brimo, nurse of youth, Brimo, night-wanderer of the underworld, Queen of the dead. The dark earth shook and rumbled underneath the Titan root when it was cute, and Prometheus himself groaned in the anguish of his soul” (132). 

Here we see a process that is depicted often, the bathing of Medeia and her ritualistic harvesting of herbs. We also see her here call on Brimo (Βριμω), an epithet of Hekate, in Her role as nurse of the young (Kourotrophos/Κουροτρόφος), night-wanderer (Νυκτιπολος/Nyktipolos), of the Underworld (Χθονιη/Kthonia), and Queen of the Dead (Ανασσα ενεροι/Anassa Eneroi), indicating the importance of Hekate to her witchcraft. 

(Art: Jason and Medea by John William Waterhouse)

A similar harvesting of herbs and roots is seen in fragments of Sophocles’ play The Root-Cutters. What we have of the play states that “She [Medea] covers her eyes with her hand and collects up the white-clouded juice that drips from the cut in bronze jars...the covered chests conceal the roots, which this woman reaped, naked, with bronze sickles, while crying out and howling” (qtd. in Ogden 83). Hekate is then said to be “crowned with oak branches and snakes” (qtd. in Ogden 83). Then the women chant “Lord of the sun and holy fire [Helios], sword of Hecate of the roads, which she carries over Olympus as she attends and as she traverses the sacred crossroads of the land, crowned with oak and the woven coils of snakes, falling on her shoulders” (qtd. in Ogden 83). In this short but incredible fragment we see that Medeia calls on both Hekate and Helios, her grandfather, to bless their ritual. We also see a repeat of incantations to harvest magical herbs, and an introduction of her association with bronze. 

Another one of Medea’s feats was charming the snake that guarded the Golden Fleece into a slumber. In the Argonautica, Apollonius of Rhodes writes:

“The monster in his sheath of horny scares rolled forward his interminable coils, like the eddies of black smoke that spring from smoldering logs...But as he writhed he saw the maiden take her stand, and heard her in sweet voices invoking Sleep [Hypnos], the conqueror of the gods, to charm him. She also called on the night-wandering queen of the world below [Hekate] to countenance her efforts...the giant snake, enchanted by her song, was soon relaxing the whole length of his serrated spine and smoothing out his multitudinous undulations...Yet his grim head still hovered over them and the cruel jaws threatened to snap them up. But Medea, chanting a spell, dipped a fresh sprig of juniper in her brew and sprinkled his eyes with her most potent drugs and as the all-pervading magic scent spread around his head, sleep fell on him.” (150-1). 

(Medea and the Dragon by Maxwell Ashby Armfield)

She was also said to have killed the giant Talos, a gift given to Zeus from Hephaistos, with her witchcraft, specifically the Evil Eye. In this more horrifying passage, it is said that:

“[W]ith incantations, she invoked the Sprits of Death [Keres], the swift hounds of Hades who feed on souls and haunt the lower air to pounce on living men. She sank to her knees and called upon them three times in song, three times with spoken prayers. She steeled herself with their malignity and bewitched the eyes of Talos with the evil in her own. She flung at him the full force of her malevolence, and in an ecstasy of rage she plied him with images of death” (Apollonius of Rhodes 192). 

In this passage, she calls on the Keres, and with them is able to use the evil eye to bring immediate death to a direct creation of the gods. This is a horrifying feat, not only for the power it must require, but for her ability to kill in an instant. 

Finally, she also is said to have rejuvenated Jason’s father Aeson. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Jason pleads with Medea to take years of his own life to give more to his father, but she rejects him saying that Hekate will not allow such a thing to take place. Instead, she offers that through her witchcraft, instead, if Hekate is willing to help her, she may rejuvenate him. Under the full moon, Medeia performs the ritual. She calls on Hekate, Night, the Moon, and Helios to aid her in her task (126-7). A chariot drawn by dragons appears to her and she takes it to gather herbs harvested with her bronze scythe. After nine days and nights, she returns to Jason to perform the ritual. The ritual is extensive and is essentially repeated in full. She builds two altars, one to Hecate and one to Hebe. She also digs two ditches on sacrifices a black sheep into the ditches, also pouring wine and milk into them. She also calls on the “deities of the earth” which may mean deities of the land or chthonic deities, and Hades. Once she appeases these gods and goddesses, she spells Aeson to sleep on a bed of herbs and tells Jason to leave her to perform her magic. She then dips sticks into pools of blood and lights them with the flames on the altars, then purifying the man once with fire, three times with water, and three times with sulfur. 

She then adds many herbs, roots, and flowers to her bronze cauldron as well as “hoar frost gathered under the full moon, the wings of the uncanny screech owl with the flesh as well, and the entrails of a werewolf which has the power of changing its wild-beast features into a man’s. There also in the pot is the scaly skin of a slender Cinyphian water-snake, the liver of a long-lived stag, to which she also adds eggs and the head of a crow nine generations old” (Ovid 129). Then, she slits the throat of Aeson and replaced his blood with her potion, finally rejuvenating him. 

There is more descriptions of Medeia’s magical feats throughout literature, but these are simply some of the most detailed and famous. She is clearly a very powerful witch and a significant figure within the history of Hekate worship. With her bronze cauldron and chariot of dragons, she is quite awe-inspiring.

(Art: The Sorceress by R. Willis Maddox)

Medeia’s Character

One of the issues we run into with Medeia’s mythos is her defamation and portrayal as a child-murdering and vengeful woman. She is indeed vengeful against Jason, and rightfully so, for he bade her to leave her homeland, murder her brother, and constantly had her aid him with her witchcraft, only to abandon her for another. However, Euripides’ tale of her brutally murdering her children has some criticisms from scholars who note that there are other versions of the tale. 

One such tale is that from Apollodorus who writes that “Another tradition is that on her flight she left behind her children, who were still infants, setting them as suppliants on the altar of Hera of the Height; but the Corinthians removed them and wounded them to death” (1.9.28). In the modern era, a scholar named Sarah Illes Johnston, author of Restless Dead and Hekate Soteira, also writes that Medea prays to Hera Akraia to make her children immortal, and Hera either declines or breaks her promise to fulfill this task, leaving the children to die (62-3). Johnston denies the implication of Medea in her children’s death, instead attributing it to circumstances outside her control or by the hand of another.

These different tellings of Medeia’s story fits with the Colchian princess who aids Jason in a much more believable way than the suddenly spiteful women who murders her children. This variation is less popular, the other being popularized perhaps to demonize magic and women of power.

(Art: Medea by Eve De Morgan)

Worshipping Medeia

Now that Medeia’s character and mythological status has been discussed, I think it’s important to talk about how I actually go about worshipping Medeia. I worship Medeia in both divine and ancestral ways, which I suppose could be attributed to methods of hero worship in Ancient Greece. Worshipping Medeia can be done alongside Hekate and/or Helios, as well as alongside Kirke. If you observe the Mighty Dead or Witch Ancestors, she could also be worshipped alongside them.

Offerings

Offerings for Medeia can include wine, frankincense, milk, honey, food, poisons, sacred plants, bronze artifacts, candles, snake parts or figurines and dragon figurines, artifacts of witchcraft, and even Hekate iconography. One could also offer her blood, but that is up to your personal discretion. 

Names and Epithets

Names/epithets I call Medeia include ‘Of the Many Spells,’ ‘Vengeful Maiden,’ ‘Witch Priestess of Hekate,’ ‘Medea of Poisons,’ ’She Who Knows All Herbs,’ ‘Giant-Slayer,’ one that could also be said of Hekate, ‘Princess of Colchis,’ ‘Granddaughter of Helios,’ ’Daughter of Sun and Moon,’ one I use to indicate her relationship to Helios and her devotion to Hekate, and Medea Pharmakeia, or Medeia of Witchcraft/Magic. 

Sacred Objects

Sacred plants of Medeia could include any poisons, juniper, olive, and aconite specifically. Sacred animals include dragons and snakes. Bronze is also sacred to Medea, as are cauldrons of any kind. 

Specializations

Medeia can be called upon for justice and vengeance, especially for spells of justice and vengeance, witchcraft of any kind, to bless herbs, for gardening, for aid in Hekate worship, for the downfall of your enemies, for protection from harm, for protection from snakes, and for guidance in magic.

Prayers to Medeia

Prayer for Medea’s Aid in Witchcraft

Prayer to Medea for Vengeance

Conclusion

In conclusion, while Medeia may not be a part of the usual canon of hero worship, or worship in general, if you are a devotee of Hekate or Helios, worshipping Medeia might be right for you. Likewise, any witch who observes the Hellenic pantheon should give serious thought to venerating Medeia in their practice. 

Works Cited:

Medea by Euripides

Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Ancient Greek and Roman Worlds by Daniel Ogden

The Voyage of Argo by Apollonius of Rhodes

Theogony by Hesiod

The Library by Apollodorus

The Metamorphoses by Ovid

“Corinthian Medea and the Cult of Hera Akraia” by Sarah Illes Johnston

(Art: Medea Casting Spells by Henry Ferguson)

[gotnofucks]

Prometheus

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: You disappoint August and must make up for it.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub themes, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my entry for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge by @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 . You guys are all fucking amazing and I adore you! I chose the prompt “Kissing under the mistletoe” but with a twist. And honestly, this whole fic is a mess. But I hope you’ll find something worthwhile here.

Masterlist

Our love story will not be found in romance books. People like him and I, we don’t exist in rose tinted pages with flowery scents. We are found within the darker pages of horror books, where our love is written with blood and pain, where it’s ghastly stunning in its dangerous beauty. But I promise you, it’s no less beautiful than the walks in a meadow or cuddles in the bed.

We bleed and cry, from eyes and heart. We drown each other deep and deeper still, only to pull back above the surface as we’re about to die. That gulp of air, that’s sweeter than any other, if simply because it’s the one that has us clinging to life.

I like to think that I am Prometheus, and he is my Eagle, sent by the gods to devour me day after day, letting me writhe under him. It’s pain beyond anything, but what most don’t understand is that I need that pain to feel alive. But what if one day Prometheus was left hanging alone, liver intact and no eagle to eat him out?

That would be torture.

I am being tortured.

The whip in his hand cracked on skin and I choked on a sob. The sharp swish of the whip parted the air again and crashed on the skin with precise intervals, creating a crisscross of welts like a painter does his design. The blue in his eyes was clouded by the deep, boiling waves of anger and disappointment.

I could take his anger, but never his disappointment.

His anger meant punishment, it meant retribution. His disappointment meant distance, it meant betrayal. And here I was, Prometheus who disappointed his eagle and now watched that beak bite on someone else’s liver.

She took his hits gracefully, only small whimpers escaping her as his whip landed on her bottom. They left marks on her skin, but they seared my heart. People say nothing hurts more than being punished this brutally. They know nothing. Nothing of the pain of watching someone else take your pain, your punishment. People don’t know the torture of being tied down and being made to watch your master pour his anger into someone else.

I closed my eyes at the scene, incapable of watching more. It was more than my heart could take. I had promised to take his love and his hate, his sweetness and his poison. And to have someone else cry under him, wear marks on her body that should have decorated me left me more broken than any of his toys would have done.

“Please sir” I begged, “No more.”

His eyes were on me the entire time, even as he had someone else at his mercy. He cocked his head to the side, looking at me naked and tied up, balancing on my knees. He came closer and lifted his booted leg to part my thighs with it, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Melly, leave.” He ordered the other girl. She swiftly got up and left without a word, just happy to be of service when required. I raised my eyes to his, pleading, begging. His large hand traced the curve of my cheek before dropping to the collar on my neck, playing with the charm that dangled on the front.

AW’s Princess

“I should take this away” August said, and I jerked as if I had been electrocuted. I shook my head, hair falling away from the elastic that secured them. He couldn’t take away my collar. No, he simply couldn’t.

“Please, no sir. I am sorry.” I sobbed.

To me, this collar was a symbol of ownership. Of being claimed by August Walker, being his. I would never trade this for a wedding ring, for this was more sacred to me. It sat on my neck, over my pulse, beating with the blood that pumped under it and reminded me that every breath I take belongs to him. That I chose to surrender my life living at his feet.

“What are you sorry about, Princess?” He asked me. Before I could answer, he was walking away to pull from his drawer a bowl and his trusted vibrator, and the sight of it made my thighs tremble.

“I am sorry for lying to you sir.” I replied. He hummed, coming to kneel before me, placing the bowl between my parted thighs and opening me wide with two fingers. I gasped, mouth parted as he touched me most intimately, his fingers that easily pulled the trigger of a gun running gently along my spongy walls to create an explosion no less than a gun shot.

He followed every pant that fell from my mouth, observed every twitch that showed on my face and drank in the fluttering of my lashes. Whenever I would turn my face he would tut, forcing me to look at him.

“How did it feel when I hit Melly instead of you?” He asked me, and slowly started to insert the vibrator inside me. I sucked in a breath, wincing at the stretch before answering.

“It hurt sir, it hurt so much.” I whimpered, tears shining in my eyes before dropping to my cheeks.

August leans back once the vibrator is completely in me, my juices dripping out from around it. Cupping my face gently, he brushed a soft kiss on my forehead, like the brush of angel wings and the slightest nip of Death’s scythe at once.

“You hurt me too.” He whispered. The darkness in his eyes had me shivering, both from fear and arousal. Being with August felt like standing on a cliff, every moment terrified that a strong gust of wind would have me pummeling to the ground. But when one wants to fly, even falling becomes a kink. How long does the fall last, and when you do hit the ground, how good does it hurt?

It hurts like heaven.

“You will fill this bowl with your cream” He ordered, “You will drip into it, and as you do, you’ll tell me where you went wrong. Apologize to me like you mean it, give me a reason to have you at my feet.”

He started unbuttoning himself and with every new inch of him revealed to my hungry eyes, I dripped. I clenched around the vibrating toy inside me, moaning softly. This is how completely he owned me. The eagle was going away, and it was up to Prometheus to seduce him to come back, to convince him to eat that liver one more time, that the taste it worth it.

“I am sorry sir, I lied to you. I didn’t tell you where I was going.” I started. He continued undressing, languidly tossing aside his clothes to unveil the scarred flesh underneath. I could tell every battle he’d ever fought by tracing the hardened marks over his body. Sometimes when he would let me, I’d trace the scars of his heart too, feeling the hurt and loss that lingered in their ridges.

“Where did you tell me you were going, Princess?” He asked me, sitting naked in front of me on a chair. Easy, confident.

“To the movies with my friends.” I lowered my eyes, ashamed of myself for lying to a man who can see through anyone and anything.

“And where did you actually go?”

I bit my lip, knowing I had disappointed him. He required nothing from me but trust and honesty.

“To see my family.” I whispered.

He shook his head, a sneer curling under his mustache. His gaze bore into me with a force that had me gushing in the bowl and he scoffed. The control he had on my body without even touching it was almost embarrassing. He got up to stand in front of me, his hard length so near to my face if I poke my tongue out, I’d be able to lick him.

“Your family” He spat the word like it was poison. “Why don’t I like it when you go meet with them Princess?”

“Because only you’re allowed to hurt me sir.” I answered.

August was not a nice man, he was not someone you mess with. He got off on pain and terror, on instigating fear in those around him. But when it came to me, only he is allowed to hurt me. He will whip me and spank me, tie me and choke me, but woe betide anyone who so much as hurt a hair on my head. Which is why I didn’t tell him I was meeting my family.

Every meeting with them came out the same way. Me in tears after a shouting match. For someone who had never managed to quite fit in anywhere, my only solace was August’s arms. And those arms would pound anyone to pulp if I cried tears that were put in my eyes by anyone but him. Fucked up? Maybe.

“Why did you go?” He asked, brushing the tip of his cock on my face, smearing his cum and marking me. The natural musk of him filled my nose and I leaned forward to have a taste when he moved away, wagging a finger in warning.

“It was Christmas.” I pathetically said.

August smirks, his eyes falling on the bowl between my legs that had collected my slick. He exhaled, kneeling before me and pulling out the vibrator with a pop, instead replacing it with his fingers that had me struggling in my restraints.

“And you thought I wouldn’t celebrate Christmas with you?” He asked me and flicked his fingers on my hardened nub that had me cumming into the bowl. His name was like a chant on my lips and I begged him to set me free, to hold me again.

He took away the bowl and put it on the bedside table, coming back to finally release me from the ropes that bound me. Carefully picking me, he dropped me on the bed and smirked nastily.

“I even got us mistletoe. I was going to hang it on the door and surprise you with it, but since you’ve chosen to be a bitch today, I’ve found another place for it.” Saying this he pulled out a bundle of mistletoe and held it over his cock, looking expectantly at me.

“W-what?” I sputtered.

“You’re supposed to kiss it sweetheart” He mocked and came closer, slapping me across the face with his dick. I blinked at him before licking my lips and taking him in my mouth. His familiar taste and thickness made me feel at home, and I sucked and slurped, trying to show him how sorry I truly was.

His hand tangled in my hair and pulled me along, bobbing me up and down his length, one hand still dangling the mistletoe over my head. I relaxed my body, letting him guide me as he wanted. My love was my apology, and this was my repentance.

“I had planned a fun night with you” He snarked, sitting deep inside my throat, “I got you a fucking tree and presents. Thought we’d watch a movie. But all that romantic bullshit doesn’t work for us, does it?”

His pace increased as did my moans. I held onto his thick thighs that had more than once choked me. He may have all the power over me, but I reveled in that just the same.

“We don’t make love beside the fireplace darling, we burn ourselves in the fireplace, surrounded by the flames of passion and lust that run in you and me.”

His words heated me up and I doubled my efforts, taking him deeper and looking into his eyes, letting him speak to my soul as he owned my body. He tensed and twitched, warmth pooling in my mouth and down my throat and I smiled when he pulled away. My jaw ached a little, but pain was an old friend.

“That was quite a kiss” I said, and he chuckled, pushing me down to lie on my back.

“It’s not over by a long shot.” He said and taking the bowl with my cum he dripped my essence over my bare chest and belly. My skin broke out into gooseflesh as the cold liquid hit me but just as soon it was followed by the warmth of his tongue, sucking me, tasting me.

This is what being worshiped felt like. In chains and in pain, and yet the object of desire and love. When one slap meets your cheek, the following caress feels just that much softer.

August rolled on his back, smearing the rest of my cum over his own chest. I leaned over him, tongue gliding through his hair and veins, dipping into deep scars and damaged tissues. His voice rose in a crescendo, cock hardening again and as I licked, I climbed over him, aligning myself and bringing him home with one thrust.

“Fuck” He whispered, mouth meeting mine in a kiss, sinful and dirty. He kissed me like the Angel of Death serving me the elixir of life. I bounced on him, rode him like he was the stairwell that would take me to heaven. His smell, his taste, the feeling of his rippling flesh and the dominance in his eyes set fire to my veins. I clamped hard on him, sliding my damp body over his as I crashed and fell apart.

His hips kept pushing up, going hard enough as if trying to come out of the other end. Nails dug into the flesh of my thighs as he kept me steady over him, pumping into me until I felt him release inside. We fell into a tangle of limbs, a sheet lazily pulled over my bruised body. That was the thing with August, when he hurt me it left a mark on the outside, but never inside.

“I love you” He softly panted in the crook of my neck. I turned over and clung to him, pulling him close in my embrace. Prometheus needed his Eagle to feel alive, and the Eagle needed Prometheus to sustain. Neither is complete without the other.

“I love you too”

 Permanent Tags: @what-is-your-wish​ @shooting-star-love​ @stanmysoul​ @sweeterthanthis​ @muralskins​ @rayofdawnworld​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @donutloverxo​ @angrythingstarlight​ @rockyrogers​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @nerdygirl8203​ @firebolt99 

Henry : @agniavateira​

[santigarcia]

Kissing Kitten 😽

Human Touch Part Nine

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

word count: 1.6k

rating: M for smut, dirty talk, mentions of daddy kink, phone sex, sexual situations (pls don’t read unless ur 18+!)

summary: Nathan leaves for a business trip and you stay at home, but he finds ways to take care of you even when he’s gone. 

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal and @sergeantkane as always!! and to @aellynera for yelling at me to post on time!! there’s only one more part after this! if you’ve read all these i really appreciate you!! 

For the first time since the wedding, Nathan has left the compound. He has a business meeting with the board of Bluebook. He’s preparing to launch his latest tech. The smart home device he’s been working on, Etta. You’d have gone with him, but you wanted to let him work. He wanted your company, but he also knew he’d be working, and you’d spend a lot of time alone.

He texts you though, especially during the board meetings. Begging you for a nude selfie.

“Kitten, I already saw that one,” he’d text back. He wants you to take a new one. You play along, but that’s when you get an idea.

You send him a text: Sugar daddy wanted.

He’s quick to write back: Sugar daddy acquired.

You can’t help but giggle when you see his response. You’re curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts. Because of the time difference, it’s bedtime for you but the afternoon for him.

Text: I’m so bored daddy.

Reply: You need someone to take care of you Kitten?

Text: Please?

Reply: There’s a box in the closet baby, go get it.

You push back the blankets as you step out of the bed with piqued curiosity. You open the closet to see a box the size of a shoebox. Your name is written on the top in Nathan’s all caps handwriting. With the box in hand, you go back over to the bed to see a new text from Nathan telling you not to open it until he gets back to his hotel room.

You want to open it now, but you know he’ll know somehow if you did. So, you slide under the blankets again and drift off. You might as well nap before he’s done with his meeting.

Your phone rings a few hours later, and it’s a facetime call. Happily, you answer to see your husband’s face.

“Hey kitten,” he smiles. He’s leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His shirt is off, and he looks damp from a fresh shower.

“Hi baby,” you smile and turn on a bedside lamp.

“Did I wake you?” he frowns slightly.

“Yes, but it’s ok, I miss you!”

“I miss you kitten,” he rubs his hand over his head. “This shit is so boring.”

You laugh. “How’s it going though?”

“Fine.” He pauses and looks down over the rim of his glasses. “Did you open the box?”

“No,” you smile, holding it up. “You told me not to!”

“Good girl. Open it,” he nods.

Inside the small box are a few objects. The first thing you notice right away is a dildo. You hold it up and he quirks a proud brow.

“You’re gonna use that in a minute kitten,” he tells you, and you can’t see where his hand goes, but he’s starting to lazily stroke his cock.

“Is this the one we made?” you laugh at the memory.

“Oh yeah it is,” he smirks, and lets out a soft whine. He’s thinking about it too.

He’d called you down to his lab one afternoon, he’d been in there all day and you’d not heard from him. So, when he called you it was a surprise, you thought he was going to use you as a guinea pig for his smart home device he’s testing named Etta. He’s getting close to finishing her, and you agreed to help him with the trials. But this wasn’t it.

You walked in the lab, pushed on the glass door, it was cool under your fingertips. Inside the room however, it was quite warm. Warmer than normal. Nathan stood in the middle of the room, hand on his hard cock, pumping himself slowly.

“Nathan?” you laughed and flushed despite coming in here and seeing weirder things. And you’ve done crazier things with him before.

“Good you’re here,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a mold of my dick. Here,” he tapped the table, indicating for you to hop up on it. “Strip. Let’s go let’s go,” he taps the table quicker.

“Ok ok!” you scoffed a little, but you figured he had a reason. “Why do I need to be naked for you to make a mold of your-“

“I need to stay hard while the mold is on me kitten.” He reached for a tube filled with a solution. Once you were naked, he positioned himself inside the tube. He let out a soft gasp at the change of temperature and focused in on you. “Ok, go.” He nodded his head at you.

“Pardon?” you started to step off the counter when he winced again.

“Touch yourself baby, please.”

You wanted to gloat, but you didn’t want to ruin his project. But then, you thought maybe some gloating might turn him on a little.

You were shy the first and second time he asked you to touch yourself in front of him, but by now you’d gotten quite good at putting on a show for your husband. He moaned watching your fingers move.

“How long do you have to stay hard for?”

“Five minutes. But it’s not so easy when this thing is fuckin’ cold.”

You kept going. And you were seconds away from coming when Nathan’s timer went off. He gently pulled himself out of it and reached for you.

“Oh no, you are not touching me until that stuff is off you.”

He promptly ignored you and shoved your hand away. He knelt on the ground and buried his face in between your legs. His moans and beard added to your pleasure, and you came when you heard him groan deeply. He came untouched, his cum dripped onto the floor and down his length.

You’d not seen the dildo until now that it’s in your hands.

“Fuck, I wish I was there to push it into you,” Nathan sighs. “But since you can’t have the real me-“

You smile and set the dildo on the bed next to you. You continue going through the box. Inside there’s a bottle of lube, some new lingerie, and a small scrap of paper. It has information about picking up something tomorrow.

“Make sure you’re awake, you can’t miss this delivery,” he tells you over the phone. “Now, please baby. Can I see you?”

You pull off your shirt, and he groans.

“Fuck look at you. Do they miss me?”

You purse your lips together, wanting to roll your eyes at his joke, but yes- yes you miss him touching your tits. So, so badly.

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” you grin.

“So that’s a yes then. Ok, baby, touch ‘em. Please, fuck.”

His hand slides up and down his cock in full view of you while you touch your chest for him. You do everything he asks, but you start to tell him what to do as well.

Soon you’ve got the dildo ready and he moans louder than you when you slide it in. It’s strange to feel it, because you know it’s not him, but you can tell it was made from him. It fills you just the same.

“How’s it feel baby?”

“Thick,” you moan, clenching around it. “But I miss your warmth,” you tell him honestly. And you do, you miss his heat, not just physically, but the passion. It’s there now, only virtual.

“Remember when we used to have phone sex when you still lived at home? And start moving that that kitten.”

You moan doing as he asks and tell him yes you remember.

“I tried to hide my posters of you from you,” you laugh then moan again.

“Posters? Plural? Oh fuck!”

“Are you about to come from that?” you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuck, you were so cute when you were all shy and crushing on me.”

That pulled a moan from you.

“You like that kitten? Remember when you were so shy? Fuck, you let me take your virginity baby.”

You want to watch him, but you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Look at me kitten,” he demands, and you open your eyes. “Come. Now,” his voice drops, and you can’t help but relax and let your body release. He watches you in delight squeeze around the gift he made you. It sends him over, and it’s your turn to delight in the pleasure look on his face, and his cum on his tight stomach.

“I miss you,” you gasp, catching your breath.

“Fuck, me too baby. But that was sexy as fuck,” he grins, and you nod in agreement. “Now, go back to sleep baby. Don’t forget about that delivery tomorrow.”

You set an alarm as soon as you get off the phone with him. When you’ve cleaned up and curled back in bed, you smile wondering what on earth he could have sent you.

The next morning you wake and get dressed to see about the delivery. You make the small walk to the field where the helicopter comes with your weekly deliveries of food and whatever else the two of you need.

The pilot hands you a box, and it says not to open until you get back to the compound.

But you can hear what’s inside before you do.

You gasp softly and walk quickly back to the compound and open the box as soon as you step inside, and the door is closed behind you.

Inside is a little black kitten. He has on a little blue collar, and the name tag says “Prometheus.” He’s a little jumpy from being flown in, but before you know it, he’s happy and exploring around his new home.

You pick him up and cuddle him and give him a kiss on his little head. With him in your arms, you look in side the box again. There’s a towel and another note.

All it says is “a kitten for my kitten.”

tagging: @pascal-isaac, @wasicskosgirl, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @shadow-assassin-blix, @writefightandflightclub, @aellynera, @softboywriting​, @veuliee2​, @spider-starry​, @mylifeliterally​, @millllenniawrites​, @ntlmundy​, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire​, @mandoplease​, @anetteaneta​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @artsymaddie​, @shakespeareanwannabe​, @poedameronsbeard​, @deanfanatic67​, @magicsuperheroes​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @that-one-weird-one​, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084​, @woakiees​

[antiloreolympus]

8 Anti LO Asks

1. It doesn’t really make sense for a long term comic such as LO to have such a drastic change in the artstyle, and even more you can’t really call it an improvement when all the interesting parts of the art style are now gone and all that it is now it’s just some basic same-face and body art style with barely any backgrounds. RS is incredibly talented for illustrative artwork and it’s really a shame she’s not doing that anymore and instead has left it to her team, with leaving them very messy sketches. The artstyle in the beginning had life and glamour and now it’s just very dull and boring. That’s not an improvement

2. I genuinely can’t think of any man in LO that’s even half way decent. Poseidon maybe? Hephaestus? Those are the only two I can manage, meanwhile the rest are either Rachel purposely ruining them because of her own biases (Zeus, Apollo, Thanatos to an extent) or are “good” men who are just creeps who disrespect all the women around them and are super creepy and obsessed over a literal teenager who acts like a child (Hades, Ares, Hermee, Eros, etc). The women aren’t much better either. 

3. About Perse making Hades childish: (this is no way defending him, just some speculation, and tbh I doubt that RS has thought this through haha) I wonder if he becomes a horny teenager around her because she’s a goddess of fertility? Would that have any affect on him? Doesn’t excuse his creepy ass behavior, but could explain it a bit, I guess?

4. Okay so I'll be honest I dont really see any reason to 'simp' over Any of the LO characters?

Also, not to start sh*t, but - I think part of the reason why some of the LO fandom does not like Zeus (and perhaps gives Hera more leeway - at least in terms of cheating) is because:

Mythologically Zeus is a known cheater / rapist (Io for example, or Semele)

They see Hera cheating a Zeus as okay (its not) because he's been known to cheat on her in the past / fans see Hera cheating on Zeus with Hades as 'justified revenge' for what he's (Zeus) put her through

I'll be honest I dont really see Zeus (or Hades for that matter) as good rulers because

Despite other deities (like Eros) doing 'acts of wrath' - they get away with it because they often have someone to back them up (like Aphrodite offering to sleep with Zeus to get her son out of trouble) - but the one time Persephone does something wrong (an act of wrath) - Zeus wants to give her the Prometheus treatment - mainly so he can feel like an in control king whos subjects respect him

The reason this sound so odd is because of RS writing choices. Zeus is a grade A d*ck who is willing to destroy a 'young girls promising career' because she made 1 mistake that one time. But at the same time the act of wrath is framed oddly because Demeter doesn't want her daughter to get in trouble so she covers it up (its like the equivalent of hiding a murder from the cops).

Zeus wanting to Prometheus Kore seems overly harsh because she is a Child. (Well a teenager) - so it adds to the "Zeus is a d*ck" card, because she doesnt have the life experience to "get away with" stuff like the other deities because she is young AND sheltered.

Like again, the whole concept of Human Laws applying to Gods is so confusing:

Would Zeus have been this harsh if Demeter had simply come forward in the first place about Persephone's murder rampage? Why did she blackmail / get other deities involved to cover it up? Is Zeus THAT much of a d*ck in Demeters eyes that she knows he would harshly punish a child for something "she didnt mean to do" (killed mortals based on a feeling?)

Why is there a motherf*cking trial in the first place? Do All the other deities get the right to a fair trial or is this a special case? (Like can any deity just offer to sleep with Zeus and he'll let them off the hook?). If the other deities had commited the same crime would the trial / punishment be the same or does Zeus just have a rage boner because he was lied to? If thats the case then why are the other deities taking Persephones side during the trial? (Ares I can maybe understand cause hes the God of War and stuff but everyone else is taking Perse's side because their either her personal friend or family member (Hecate, Hermes, Demeter, Hades etc).

Why are there certain laws like "Zeus cant get to Persephone because she has clemency in the underworld" but other deities - including Leto, Demeter and others (like Perse's nymph family) can just stroll into Hades house? Why is Hermes still on house arrest? Why are Hades + Persephone throwing a house party when shes on trial for scythe crimes??!!!

Why are the gods bound by such petty squabbles?

The way RS set up the governing "laws" in universe just doesnt make a whole lotta sense. Also, sorry this got ramblely.  

5. Tbh i don’t think that Hades acting differently when he’s with Persephone is a bad thing, as a concept. But there are many issues with this such as the fact that Persephone is barely legal and Hades act like an actual child around her. Obviously when you’re with someone they are going to act different than they do when they are at work. The problem is that Hades essentially goes from the “cold-scary king” to a 17 year old hormonal boy when he’s with Persephone. And him making out with her in a middle of a store or them golfing with diamonds or him making out with Persephone again in front of his workplace is not exactly acceptable behaviour from a king. If Hades acts all lovey-dovey with Persephone when their at their home together it’s different, but when they’re at a public place they can’t really do that. I would say that he has to keep a status about him but from what we’ve seen all the citizens of the underworld hate him and don’t respect him at all, from yelling at him to actually fighting with him, so idk how much status there is actually attached to him 

6. I swear, the majority of the “cute” HxP moments in LO just seem like a single father dealing with his hyperactive 8 year old over the supposed future intimidating rulers who Rachel is obsessed about talking and drawing their sex life. Is it really that hard to depict Persephone even acting like a smart teenager at the very least, as opposed to an airhead grade schooler? It doesn’t scream cute to me, it seems more like a father/daughter relationship. It’s just weird. 

7. i mean, i have a LO oc who's persephone's brother (fertility god) between demeter and zeus. dude got thrown into tartyrus to cover up the affair and now serves cronus. he was the god of summer, and my reasoning was demeter's seasons/harvest + summer thunderstorms. wrote a whole minific i will never post about him and persephone realizing everyone around them are assholes and healing together. so the mistress-of-zeus oc isnt that weird.

8. I’m not a Zeus stan by any means, but I do find him one of the most interesting characters, and one that RS has, in her attempts to make him be the worst ever to make Hades look better, actually way more interesting and compelling than the majority of the cast. He doesn’t lie or whine to the audience he’s some good person like Hades when he’s not, he owns that he’s a dick and doesn’t bullshit the audience into thinking he’s someone he’s not. RS tries to show us he’s a “bad” king, yet we see no proof it beyond what, he wants to uphold the law P broke and doesnt kiss Hades’ butt? That’s not a bad king, it’s a good one that he doesn’t let family ties or lust cloud his judgement, unlike Hades or Hera, for example. I don’t condone his cheating either, but it’s not fair to hate him for it, but love it that Hades cheated on Minthe so he could get into a teenager’s skirt and praise Hera for sleeping with her brother in law while punishing Zeus’ mistresses because she’s being a fake “loyal” wife. Just because he’s a deeply flawed, even a bad person doesn’t make him a bad character. Hades and Hera and even Persephone are awful people who do worse than Zeus, yet they’re loved and praised for it, all while being written with the depth of a puddle. 

[juniperusashei]

Circe by Madeline Miller - 2/5

Circe is a retelling of Homer’s Odyssey, amongst other Greek myths, from the witch Circe’s point of view. On paper, this sounds like a book I would love. Cathartic feminist “good for her!” literature… plus she’s a plant girl, so totally up my alley. So why did I hate Circe so much then???

Firstly, the whole retelling myths through a misunderstood villain’s point of view totally reminds me of John Gardner’s Grendel, which I already didn’t really like. I don’t remember much about the Odyssey, but is Circe even that misunderstood? I remember thinking she’s quite likable in her original incarnation, so I don’t see why this is needed to avenge her character. I get what Miller was trying to do but I don’t feel like this book added any sort of meaningful feminist critique to the Odyssey. The voice of the eponymous protagonist is a humorless woe-is-me can do no wrong, and everyone treats her badly. It was honestly exhausting to read, like Jane Eyre without the self-awareness. There’s also a good deal of rape and trauma that seems just thrown in for shock value… just upsetting for the sake of it. However, I was glad Miller didn’t sugarcoat the misogyny of classical mythology (looking at the way the Percy Jackson series said Medusa was Poseidon’s “girlfriend”…).

This book made me realize what I mean when I say something feels like YA. It’s written in first-person, and I’m already biased against first-person narration, unless the narrator is a little bit unreliable like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird or Nick in The Great Gatsby. This was more like Norwegian Wood, where first-person is simply the easiest way to convey an internal narrative. It’s so lazy because it violates the “show-don’t-tell” cliché. For example, where a more talented writer would find a way to illustrate Circe’s mental state through her actions, Miller writes:

“That old sickening feeling returned: that every moment of my life I had been a fool.”

I find this style incredibly boring, and when I say a book marketed to adults feels like YA it’s because it lacks the narrative sophistication of the implied author. It also covers basically Circe’s whole life, which contributed to the amateurish fanfic feeling… it retells the story of Prometheus, Daedalus, the Minotaur, Jason & Medea, Odysseus, etc. And it doesn’t do it very well. It was way too episodic and lacked a uniting arc, so I was left feeling as if I would have rather read the original myths.

[flamencodiva]

Hunter Encyclopedia: I’m a Fan

Description:  Y/N has traveled the world and faced every kind of monster imaginable which is why the nickname Hunter Encyclopedia, or H.E. for short has stuck.  She grew up in the hunting business and knew all about the Winchesters and read the Carver Edlund books before they came to ask her for help. Sam is the researcher and Dean is the action man, or at least that is what she thought, but could she have been wrong?

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventual), Sam x Reader (Platonic Friendship) 

Warnings: Supernatural level Violence. 

A/N:  written for @spndeanbingo�� 

Square filled: Fangirl Moment 

Word Count: 5101

A/N 2: Dividers by @talesmaniac89​ Beta’d by @emoryhemsworth​ and a special thanks to @waywardbeanie​ for the amazing summary! 

Y/N Y/L/N sat in the corner of the hunter’s bar, her fingers curled around the glass holding her drink. She was nose deep in her book unaware of the world around her. She was engrossed in a bit of Greek literature; her trip to Athens had proven to be very helpful. Not only did she find very rare ancient tomes, but she was also able to find some new research on monsters that seemed to have become a new breed. Furiously writing in her already full journal, she failed to notice the two hunters who seemed to have been looking for her. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the voice called hesitantly. 

“Who’s asking?” she asked before looking up. Her eyes went wide with recognition as she studied the two hunters. 

“Hi, I’m—” 

“Sam Winchester,” she interrupted standing up to shake his hand. Y/N’s chair fell down from the force of her standing up in excitement. “Wow, I mean… holy… you’re a legend!” she gushed. 

Sam let out a small bashful chuckle as he blushed, “Wow, guess reputation precedes me, this is—” 

“Oh yeah, Dean,” she brushed off. “Right, another legend.” 

The older Winchester frowned slightly at the way she brushed off his introduction and looked between his brother and the so-called ‘Hunter Encyclopedia.’ At least that’s what many of the hunters they encountered had called her: Y/N Y/L/N, a hunter who not only was skilled in killing and maiming monsters and sending demons back to hell, but she was also a human hunter encyclopedia. He’d heard Bobby mention her before, once or twice, but he never really thought anything of it. 

“How can I help you guys?” She asked blushing at her own behavior. To be fair, she never really thought that she was famous for anything, or at least not anything that would attract the Winchesters, let alone Dean and his brother. 

“We were told that you could tell us about a new monster that seems to have popped up?” Sam asked as he helped her with her chair. 

“Depends,” she shrugged before taking a sip of her drink. “I just got back from Greece and made out like a bandit!” she smiled excitedly at the younger Winchester. If her own research was correct, he was the one who enjoyed research more than the older one. “I have this new tome I found! Well, not new, but it was discovered in an old catacomb.” 

“Really?” Sam’s interest was piqued. “Would it be alright if I took a look?” 

“Absolutely, I’m sure Dean can handle himself, I just saw a pretty blonde girl come in,” she said offhandedly. 

Dean let out a small scoff, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Y/N rushed out. “It’s just, you aren’t really known for your enthusiasm for research. I figured your brother and I could do our thing and you could do yours.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth at what she said, “I—” 

Before he could say anything more, he watched as Sam left with her and his frown deepened. 

“Research isn’t your thing,” He mimicked. “Who does she think she is telling me that—” his words fell from his lips as he noticed the blond at the bar smiling at him. “I mean she isn’t wrong, but I mean I can research. I’m not dumb,” he said to himself, pouting slightly. “I just like to have fun that’s all. Life isn’t all about books.” 

He licked his lips as he looked at the blond before sighing. Was that all he really was to the hunter community? A playboy who could kill monsters better than the rest of them? Shaking his head, he took a sip of his beer and sighed. He really didn’t feel like talking to the blonde. His mood was soured and he wanted to prove little Ms. Encyclopedia wrong. 

With Sam, Y/N had placed the different tomes she brought back from her trip on the small kitchenette table in her room. 

“Wow,” Sam marveled at their pristine condition, “I mean these are—these look to be—” 

“They are from around 400 B.C.E,” Y/N chuckled, “and the information they hold is astounding!” 

“So these are all—” 

“Accounts of the mythological heroes we’ve all heard about? Yeah,”  she gushed again. “I mean, I’ve heard about you guys saving Prometheus and meeting actual Greek gods, but wow!” 

“Well, I mean, we tried to keep it civil,” Sam argued. “All Zeus had to do was let Prometheus go,” Sam chuckled. 

“Have you read the stories about him?” Y/N giggled. “Dude thinks his cock is the best thing in the Pantheon of Gods. Guess he forgot that the Titans are bigger,” she laughed before pointing to a small line. “This right here states that Echidna, the mother of monsters, still creates new monsters almost every decade.” 

“Seriously?” Sam asked as he read the line. 

“As a heart attack,” she chuckled. “I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing like how Dean was able to kill Eve, but—” she paused when Sam looked at her. “What?” 

“Sorry, it’s just, back at the bar you seemed like you didn’t really care about Dean,” he clarified. 

“Oh! That, well I guess,” Y/N paused and bit her lip, “he’s a bit intimidating? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is an amazing hunter, you both are! But with his knowledge of weapons and electronics and the fact that he went to literal Hell and back… I mean, he wouldn’t want to listen to someone like me drag on about books and research.” 

“I went to Hell and came back too,” Sam pointed out. “You know all this about Dean so, what gives?” 

“Oh,” Y/N blushed, “I-it’s just… You’re easier to talk to, and me? Well, I’m the ‘hunter encyclopedia.’ There is no way Dean ‘lady’s man’ Winchester would ever think to talk to a nerd like me.”  

Sam hid the smirk that came on his face, “Huh, so I take it you’re kind of a fan?” 

“I mean, who wouldn’t be? The stories that I hear from dive bar to dive bar,” she chuckled. “Want a beer?” She inquired walking to the fridge, reaching for one. He shook his head and she grabbed one for herself and shut the fridge door. “I mean, you two have been the epicenters of anything and everything that goes bump in the night.” 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, “that’s been a bit of a struggle.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to… It’s just you guys have encountered things that not many hunters ever encounter. The amount of research and documentation that you could do about what you’ve experienced alone could fill books for future hunters!” 

Sam nodded, “I bet it would.” 

Y/N was about to say something when a knock interrupted their conversation. She looked at Sam who shrugged before they both reached for their guns ready to attack whoever might be knocking. As a hunter, one could never be too careful with who or what could knock on your door. Looking through the hole, Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked back at Sam. 

“It’s Dean,” she told him before holding her gun firm. “You can check him if you want, you know him better than I do.”

Stepping back, she let Sam check him out before allowing him to enter. Y/N smiled at Dean and waved.

“Sorry, was I interrupting anything?” he asked, looking between Sam and Y/N. 

“Not really,” Sam chuckled knowing Dean’s meaning. “We were just discussing the fact that our lives should be documented for future hunters.” 

“Yeah, that would be an entire volume of encyclopedias,” Dean muttered as he looked at Y/N. “So anything interesting?” 

Y/N shrugged as she walked over towards the table and away from Dean. “I mean. nothing really. I just told your brother how these tomes are actually accounts of the heroes of Greek mythology.”  

“You’re shitting me,” Dean said as he walked over to the tomes and frowned when Y/N gathered them up. “What?” 

“You wouldn’t be interested in them anyway. They’re pretty boring for someone like you.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean’s anger rose but was interrupted by Sam. 

“We were wondering if you found anything in your research that could help us with some new monsters that seemed to have popped up?” 

“Oh yeah!” Y/N smiled at Sam, once again brushing off Dean. 

The older hunter clenched his jaw as he glared at the woman in front of him. Who the hell did she think she was? She fawned all over Sam and barely paid him any attention. Dean was baffled by it. He couldn’t understand why this girl only saw him as some sort of playboy meathead, who didn’t like reading. He could read; in fact, Dean loved to read when Sam wasn’t looking. It was how he knew about the Greek monsters and gods. He may not be well versed in different languages like Sam was, but he knew legends and stories better than his brother. 

“So what is it you guys are looking for?” Y/N asked as she grabbed her hunter’s journal. 

“Well, for now, all we have to go on are visual accounts,” Sam said as he pulled out his laptop. “They keep describing a ‘serpent-like dragon.’” 

“Serpent-like dragon? You mean a dragon that moves like a snake?” Y/N asked hurriedly as she flipped through a book. “I mean, for all we know, it could have been a huge ass snake and people are overreacting.” 

Dean smirked. “That’s what I said, but then if you think about it, there is Ladon,” He pointed out. 

Y/N snapped her head up and looked towards Dean. “How do you know Ladon?” 

“Jason and the Argonauts, not to mention the fact that the story of Heracles depicts one of his tasks as retrieving the golden apple which is guarded by Ladon,” Dean offered her a wink. “I tend to favor Greek mythology, sweetheart.” 

Y/N blushed as she moved her hair behind her ear. “Oh, right,” she cleared her throat and looked to Sam. “It might need some investigating, but I’m sure you two can—” 

“Come with us,” Sam offered. 

“Huh?” Y/N was taken off guard as she looked at the haze eyed hunter. “I—that sounds great, but I don’t think it’s a good—” 

“What is it, sweetheart? You scared to be hunting with the famous Winchesters?” Dean boasted as he smirked at her. 

Y/N frowned at him, wondering what he was trying to do. “Look, I may be the ‘hunter encyclopedia,’ but I’m not scared of anything. You two are more than capable of finding out if this thing is a glorified snake or actually Ladon. I would be dead weight.” 

“Y/N, you aren’t just known for being a researcher,” Sam interjected. “You’ve taken on a ton of different monsters, monsters even Dean and I haven’t heard of or faced.” 

“That was nothing,” Y/n argued. “You don’t need me, I’m dead weight.” 

“Tell you what,” Dean walked up to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can help with the research, I’m sure we could use your brains at some point.” 

“A phone is easy to use,” she tried to dodge Dean and sighed when he blocked her. “What happened to the blonde at the bar? She looked more like your speed.” 

Y/N was irritated that Dean was pushing this. Why was he adamant that she join them? Was he trying to prove something to her? 

“Nothing happened with the blonde at the bar,” Dean scoffed, “but if we have a monster and you can identify it, why not help us get rid of it?” 

Y/N bit her lip in thought. “Fine,” she decided. “Just let me pack up and I’ll follow you in my car.” 

“Dean?” Sam looked at his brother as he continued to shift his gaze from the road to the rearview mirror. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered, “just making sure she’s following us.” 

“She is,” Sam pointed out. “So, a quickie in the bathroom or the backseat?” 

“Huh?” Dean raised his eyebrow in confusion, “What are you—” 

“The blonde that Y/N pointed out to you,” Sam clarified. 

“Oh, I didn’t,” Dean huffed, “Didn’t want to give Hunter Encyclopedia the pleasure of trying to dictate who I am to me.”

“Dean,” Sam chuckled, “you always tap a girl at the bar if they catch your eye.” 

“Well, I wasn’t in the mood this time,” Dean huffed. “Besides, Y/L/N seems to be your fan more than mine, Mr. Researcher.” 

“Me?” Sam titled his head in confusion and laughed. “You think… You realize she knows about us and is a fan right?”

“Maybe that’s her problem, she listens to the stories,” Dean mumbled. 

“Are you not a ladies man?” Sam asked curiously as to his brother’s answer. 

“Of course I’m a ladies man Sam, look at me,” Dean defended. “Women can’t keep their hands off me.”  

“Wow,” Sam let out another chuckle mixed with a huff. “Then I guess you’re going to prove to her that what, you love research? Come on Dean, you only research if you have to.” 

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Of course, Sam would think that. He had kept the façade up for a long time. It just made sense to make sure that Sam had a better future than he did. Of course, he would never admit to going through the various books on Greek heroes in the bunker. Then again, Dean loved the ancient stories of the heroes. He wasn’t too well-versed in the world of the gods, that much was proven when Sam had to explain Prometheus. So to counter, Dean ended up reading everything he could find on the Greek gods and the stories they told. 

 “Doesn’t mean I’m just a dumb meathead,” he grumbled. 

“You’re mad she read you like an open book,” Sam realized as he turned to look at his brother. “You’re mad that she brushed you off.” 

Dean let out a scoff with a slight high pitched squeak, “No! I— I don’t— I’m not mad. Just—”

“Look, obviously I can’t give advice to a ‘Ladies Man,’” Sam said as he looked towards the road, “but if you want her to look at you twice, you better crack open a couple of books in front of her and talk to her about what you are reading.”

“I read, Sam,” Dean defended, “but you’re right, maybe reading in front of her will show her I’m not a dumbass.” 

“Well, I mean you’re a bit of a dumbass,” Sam jabbed. 

“Bitch,” Dean spat with a smirk. 

“Jerk,” Sam shot back as they sat in comfortable silence on their way towards their next hunt. 

Reaching their destination, Dean watched as Sam headed to the motel office to get two rooms. He saw Y/N in her car, scribbling in her journal. From the looks of the damn thing, Dean could tell she had filled it close to the brim. He wondered if she needed a new one. He couldn’t help but smirk at the way her nose crinkled when she read her journal. It made him wonder what she was reading that made her make that face. 

“Dean,” Sam interrupted his thoughts, “I got our keys.” 

“Okay, let’s settle in and see what we can find.” Dean climbed out of the car just as Y/N did. 

“I’ll go—” she stopped when Sam tossed a room key at her, “you didn’t have to—” 

“Consider it a way to say thank you for helping us,” he insisted as he grabbed his bags and walked towards the door to his and Dean’s room. 

“You know,” Dean licked his lips as he walked up to her, “you could get to know the real me and not just what you’ve heard in the stories.” 

“I’m good,” she breathed. “The stories are a good learning tool. Besides, I’m not your type, and Sam and I should start researching. You can relax and find entertainment.” 

Before Dean could counter her words, she was rushing to her room, closing the door behind her. 

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. What was it going to take to get this girl to talk to him?  

Dean adjusted his bag and made his way to his room, grumbling under his breath about taking a shower. Sam smirked a bit, wondering what transpired between his brother and the girl who was crushing on him but too shy to speak out. After a few minutes, Dean walked out fresh and ready to investigate. Sam was ready to head over to Y/N’s room to piece together any clues they could find. With Dean hot on his heels, Sam knocked on Y/N’s door to see her ready for action. 

“Let’s investigate and then you and I can read the tomes to see if we can find other clues to help us,” she dictated. “If it is Ladon, it should be an easy kill, clean shot to the head like the legends all say.” 

“And what will I do?” Dean asked, still annoyed at being left out. 

“Oh,” Y/N looked at him as if it was the first time she noticed him there. “I-I’m not sure, what do you usually do when Sam is researching? I’m sure there is a bar out there for you to find something to fill the void after we get some clues.” 

“I’m getting real sick of that,” Dean growled. 

“Huh?” Y/N looked at him in confusion. “Sick of what? I mean, you are a great hunter, you’re skilled in being able to analyze a situation and patterns, but I know you don’t like sitting in a dusty room reading book after book.” 

“Lady, you don’t really know what I’m like,” Dean continued. 

“So you didn’t spend four months in Hell, which is equivalent to forty years?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. 

“No, I did that,” Dean confirmed. 

“Okay, what about your trip to Purgatory? I mean was that just a tall tale or—” 

“I’m not talking about everything I’ve done, I’m talking about you treating me like a dumb jock because I don’t enjoy reading as much as you,” Dean snapped.  

“I never said you were dumb,” Y/N glared at him, “you made your very own EMF out of a Walkman, correct?” she interrogated, walking up to him. 

“What does that have to—” 

“And didn’t you create an EMP device that wiped out the hard drive of a group called the Ghostfacers?” she asked, continuing her line of questioning. 

“Look, all I’m trying to say is—” 

“And how many times have you had to rebuild the Impala? Five? Ten? Fifteen times?” she pushed on, getting closer and closer to Dean with every question. 

“Look, whatever you’re trying to do—” 

“You are smart, Dean. But you aren’t the kind of guy to sit around and listen to two people talk about lore, myth, and other boring mundane things. You are someone who would much rather actually spend their time doing things with their hands and making sure that plans work perfectly. You’re an engineer; you may not be book smart,” she poked at his chest, “but you are mechanical smart. If my words hurt you, then I’m sorry, but you are who you are and you shouldn’t change that just because I was able to find more common ground with your brother than you.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Most of the things she listed, he wasn’t even sure people had heard about, but it seemed that word of the many things he’d built over the years had made their way out there, much like the stories of his deaths and resurrections. He watched as she talked to Sam and licked his lips. Yeah, Y/N Y/L/N was going to be an interesting nut to crack. He wondered what having her as a friend would be like, and maybe Sam was right: maybe he could show her that he was more than just mechanical smart. He watched her walk away, leaving their small argument at that. She knew things about him. It made him smirk that she paid attention to his accomplishments, but he was going to prove to her that he was able to hold a decent conversation.

Making their way to the forest, Y/N had one of the tomes on ancient monsters. She and Sam had tried to find some specific clues that would lead them to the supposed Ladon. It wasn’t until Y/N grabbed Dean’s arm to stop him and to try and warn Sam that things took a dark turn. As they began to walk farther in, Y/N could see three figures dancing along the trees at dusk and it clicked: the Nymphs of the Evening; Aigle, Erytheis, and Hespere. 

“Sam,” Y/N whispered, “stop.” 

“Why does he need to stop?” Dean asked as he tried to reach for Sam. 

“Because those are Nymphs, and they aren’t just any Nymphs. They’re the Evening Nymphs, said to roam the garden of Hera or what the legend says is the Garden of the Hesperides, essentially—” 

“Hera’s Orchard,” Dean finished. “Sam,” he called out, “Sammy, get back here!” 

“But they’re singing Dean,” Sam gave him a dreamy smile. 

“Damn it,” Y/N flipped through the tome and sighed. “Here,” she gave Dean a bronze knife. “Prick his finger and let the blood  drop on the grass.” 

“Why?” Dean questioned, but took the knife nonetheless.

“I mean, a blood offering on grass,” Y/N shrugged. “They’re Nymphs taking care of the garden in a way, so a blood offering would make sense.” 

Dean nodded as he grabbed Sam’s arm and held out his hand, the point of the knife pricking his brother’s finger. The drop of blood began to pool. Pulling Sam down, Dean made sure that the blood landed on a blade of grass. It took a minute, but Sam began to shake out of his daze. 

“What happened?” he asked, blinking his eyes a few times. 

“Nymphs,” Y/N and Dean echoed. 

Dean didn’t see it, but Y/N blushed as they spoke at the same time. The way he knew they were in Hera’s Orchard made her wonder what other secrets the hunter was hiding. Every bit of information she knew about him pointed to the fact that he hated research, yet here he was reciting lore and understanding what was happening in his surroundings. 

Clearing her throat, Y/N pointed past the Nymphs to an area that seemed to give off a sparkling glow. “Seems we should head that way.” 

“You sure?” Dean asked. 

“If we want to solve this mystery, Fred Jones, we need to keep going,” she smiled. “Grab Shaggy there so we can keep going.” 

“You like Scooby-Doo?” Dean let out as he followed Y/N, making sure that Sam was okay. 

“Who doesn’t?” she chuckled, “I’m a Velma, so no Fred is ever going to look at me,” she whispered the last part to herself, unaware that Dean caught it. 

“So, what else do you watch?” Dean checked, keeping the conversation going. 

“I’m sure nothing you would be interested in,” she brushed him off as they neared where the golden glow was coming from. 

“Why do you do that?” Dean huffed in annoyance. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N shrugged, “I’m only stating a fact.” 

“For the record, you’re making me out to sound like a shallow dick,” Dean whispered harshly as a movement in the trees made them freeze. 

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I have a good idea as to the kind of guy you are, okay?” Y/N spat back before holding out her arm to stop him. 

“What now?” Dean grumbled. 

“Ladon,” Y/N sighed. “He’s just doing his job. He’s guarding the Golden Apples.” 

“So he isn’t a threat—” 

“Unless someone tries to steal the apples,” Y/N nodded. “We should go before—” 

The loud dragon-like roar made the trio freeze. They turned towards the tree, but Ladon was no longer guarding it. Y/N began to look around only to feel a large, log-like object swipe through her ribcage sending her crashing towards a tree. 

“Y/N!” Dean yelled as he braced himself to try and defend them from another attack. 

Sam made his way towards Y/N, while Dean looked out for the creature. Dean tried to listen to the sound of the levees rustling. If Ladon was a snake-like dragon, that would mean it would be slithering between things. It was quick, but he heard it. The leaves rustled and Dean swiped trying to at least cut the creature. Not enough to kill it, just enough to stun it so that they could get away.  

He was surprised that he was successful, and smiled when the creature recoiled and backed away. Rushing towards Sam, he motioned for his brother to pick up Y/N and follow him out of the Orchard. Once in the Impala, Dean drove them towards the motel as fast as he could. 

“How is she?” Dean asked. 

“She’s got a gash on her arm, probably from hitting the tree and sliding against it,” he explained. “We’ll know more when we get back.” 

“Yeah,” Dean muttered as he glanced at the rearview mirror. 

===============

Y/N groaned as she tried to get up, but hissed in pain. She blinked a few times to adjust to the light in the room she was in and found Dean sitting on the edge with an ice pack on her head. 

“I got it,” she muttered, trying to grab the pack from him. 

“Hold still,” Dean ordered, as he checked her over for anything else. 

“Why does my arm hurt?” she moaned in pain. “I just got knocked out.” 

“Not entirely, sweetheart,” Dean flashed her a smile. “You got a nasty gash on your arm from when you slid against the tree trunk Ladon launched you towards, not to mention your abdomen is red and you’re going to have a nice bruise there for a bit.” 

“Yippie for me,” she grunted, “You don’t have to be here you know. I told you I was dead weight.” 

“You stopped us from confronting that thing head-on,” Dean argued. “You realized where we were and what it was doing,” he continued as he inspected the stitches he’d placed on her wound. “So you called me Fred back there.” 

“Yeah?” Y/N shrugged and winced. “So you’re the Fred Jones type: handsome, great with strategy, ladies man.” 

“Velma is pretty cool you know,” Dean said as he turned towards her. “She is logical and cool-headed, not to mention she helps Fred come up with the traps,” he pointed out. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “But Freddy loves Daphne and I am no Daphne.” 

“You know, you still brush me off even though you know everything about me, things that I didn’t even know people knew. How come you’ve put me in a box and labeled me already?” Dean said as he tried to figure out the puzzle that was Y/N Y/L/N. 

She gave him a shrug. “Not hard to find the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund. I mean, I knew who you guys were because I was raised a hunter and my dad knew yours, but we never met,” she explained. 

“Oh no, you read those things?” Dean groaned as he bowed his head. “I hate those books.” 

“But they happened, right? Every story I heard from other hunters confirmed everything that happened in those books,” she pointed out, “and I have to say I got a pretty good impression of you through them.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Dean defended. “You know all these things I’ve done, but you don’t know me! Talk to me! Get to know me!”

“Why would you want me to talk to you?” Y/N shook her head, “I’m not your type, trust me. I know your type, and brainy ain’t it.” 

“You don’t know that!” Dean stood up in frustration, “I love Scooby-Doo, I watch Dr. Sexy. I’ve read The Odyssey at least five times in my life, along with the other epic tales that Homer and others have written, not to mention I love Greek heroes and their stories. I’ve read Vonnegut and Tolstoy,” he licked his lips and let out a huff before smiling. “So no, you don’t know me because those books and those people who tell stories about me only know what I show them, not who I am.”  

Y/N stayed silent as he finished his declaration and licked her own lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “You’re right. I don’t know you. I know of you. I just didn’t think that you would like to speak to me about mundane things.” 

“Like what?” Dean pressed. 

“Look, I know myself well enough to know that I can get extremely nerdy and people start to shy away from me,” she explained. 

“What if you’re wrong?” Dean replied. Let’s just start from the beginning. We can re-introduce ourselves.” Dean shook his body before rolling his shoulders. He turned to face Y/N completely and gave her his best charming smile, “Hello, I’m—” 

“Dean Winchester,” Y/N interrupted, chuckling at his annoyed expression, “Sorry, I would just recognize the description of the famous Dean Winchester.”  

“Famous?” Dean feigned shock, “I gotta say, sweetheart, you’re pretty famous too.” 

“Dean, I’m not—” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, an excellent connoisseur of lore and ancient myths,” he interjected, “kickass hunter who is known for taking down the Tulsa, Oklahoma wolf pack back in ‘09, not to mention the vamp’s nest up in Washington state near Kirkland.” He leaned in and gave her a wink, “Did I miss anything?” 

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest at what he said, what he knew of her. Hell, he knew about her. Licking her lips, she offered him a smile. 

“You forgot my nickname, Winchester,” she whispered. 

“That’s right, they do call you the Hunter Encyclopedia,” he teased. 

That was the start of Y/N getting to know Dean on a deeper level, not from books or stories passed down from hunter to hunter, but the real Dean, and their story was just beginning.  

HE: 2 in the Morning 

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[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 10: The Wheels On The Bus Goes Skrt Skrt Skrt

It didn't take me long to pack. I didn't have anything at all, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me and Percy. Both having nothing to carry we decided to share a bag. The camp store loaned us one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth, Percy and I each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally. Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told us had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector. Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes. We waved good-bye to the other campees, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood a surfer looking dude. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck. "This is Argus," Chiron told us. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things." I heard footsteps behind us. Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you." Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around. I looked at him with a frown. "Don't look at me like that. I had to find out from the others you're going on a quest." he glared. "So much for the option you won't die at." "I would've told you if you were at the cabin when I got back. Now what's with the shoes?" "Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these." He handed him the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal. Luke said, "Maia!" White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, Percy dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared. "Awesome!" Grover said. Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turned sad. I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. But here he was giving Percy a magic gift.... It made me a bit jealous. "Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks." "Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?" They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out. The three went to Chiron about stuffs while Luke and I had a staring contest. "So Percy got a present and I only get an I don't know... a hug? Here I thought I was your favorite." "What made you think you are?" He laughed and ruffled my hair. "And no you don't get a hug." "Suddenly I'm not coming back." He smiled and from his back he pulled out a sheathed knife. "I meant to say you won't get only a hug. I noticed you're not a fan of swords. So, I made this my self. I am no Hephaestus child but hey..." He handed me the knife. The sheath was plain colored with a metal chap and locket, it had chains attached to the locket where I could probably put it on something to make sure I bring it with me. Pulling the knife out of the sheath, its knife was around 15 inches. On the blade, Ancient Greek was engraved on it. I think it's my name and the other side is his. "What is this?" I grinned. "I don't know. I ran out of good ideas! I swear I looked up some of Plato and Socrates for that." "And you settled for that?" I laughed. "I am going to take that back now." "Hey, that doesn't mean I don't like it. Thanks." "It's celestial bronze... Half of it at least." "Half?" "I'm sure Chiron won't appreciate it. It will harm both us and humans." "So... It'll hurt both side?" "Yup. And I'm not sure but according to a Hephaestus kid but it's supposed to glow when its near something." "Its not glowing now." "We never said no backsies. I'd like it back now." "I'll take good care of..." I stopped to think of a name and almost immediately remembered a perfect one, "Sting." "I would ask but I already know." Luke shook his head. "Be careful with Sting. It---" "He. Sting is a he, thank you very much." "HE, is lethal. He it can kill us, others close to our kind and normal humans." "Oops I accidentally stabbed myself." With a worried look he pulled me in a hug, "And whatever happens. Put your safety above all. No need to be the hero. If you die in this quest I will get the lord of the dead revive you or kill me." "Ew how sentimental." "Be careful... okay? All of you. Promise me that." "Fine, I promise. On the knife, I'll come back not dead, with everyone." After Luke was gone, I placed the knife on my waist. I went back to Percy. "Okay, that's extremely cool," I heard him say. "What's cool?" I grinned standing behind Percy overlooking his shoulder. "My new pen." He showed me his pen and uncapped it only to show a sword. "I can't loose it no matter what! Its called Riptide." "But what if a mortal sees you pulling out a sword?" Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Y/N." "Mist?" "I just keep hearing that over and over can someone finally explain?" "Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality." Percy put Riptide back in his pocket. For the first time, the quest felt real. We was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. We was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a knife to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead. "Chiron..." I said. "When you say the gods are immortal... I mean, there was a time before them, right?" "Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age." "So what was it like... before the gods?" Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born." "But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" Chiron gave us a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny." "Our destiny... assuming we know what that is." "Relax," Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history." "Relax," Percy said. "I'm very relaxed." When we got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur. I took Percy's hand and we gave each other a reassuring nod. I wish us luck. Talking whilst at camp drained me. I apologize if I won't be much help. You have stamina? So you aren't a bigshot all powerful god? Without you and I as one. I am nothing. I have given you my everything.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Percy was sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall. "So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster." She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain." "Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?" "I don't hate you." "Could've fooled me." She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals." "Why?" She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her." "They must really like olives." I interjected. "Not you too! You know what? Forget it." "Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand." "I said, forget it!" In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me. Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain. Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, Percy and I didn't let go. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with Percy's picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? He ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice. "They could've at least gotten a better picture." I smirked which caused him to roll his eyes. Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction Percy was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?" I stared at Percy then at Grover. "Were you reading my mind or something?" "Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?" Percy nodded. I missed my parents of course, but I had Luke and Grover to talk to which made me less lonely. Percy became an outcast when we got to camp and had no one to talk to. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile. "Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told him. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura.... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week." "Thanks," Percy said. "Where's the nearest shower?" "You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better." I knew what Percy was thinking. He was thinking of the fact we'll get his mom and my parents. How we'll save them all. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. I wasn't too bad myself. The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but we were too busy cracking up. Percy pulled me to a corner, after excusing ourselves for a bathroom break. "You finally going to tell me about this quest?" "The truth is," He started. "I don't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble." I gave him a look that reassured him to continue. "The more I thought about it, I resented my father for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed me because he needed a job done. All I cared about was you and my mom. The underworld god had taken her unfairly, and he is going to give her back." "Percy, we don't even know what's going on. Yeah, he might have her. But what is there's another reason? We don't exactly know anything. I don't even think my parents are with him." "Well, no matter where they are. We will get them back. The least I could do is get them back." He rested his head on my shoulder. "Don't "You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend," "What?" I froze. "Percy... I would never---" "You will fail to save what matters most in the end." "What are you talking about?" The rain kept coming down. "The rest of the prophecy. Y/N, I don't want you to betray me. Please... don't." I could hear his voice breaking. "Of course I won't. We'll get this quest done. We won't loose anyone and we'll get our parents. Don't worry." I hugged him. "I will stay with you. I won't leave and I won't betray you." "Hey Bonnie and Clyde, we need to go." Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air. "What is it?" I asked. "I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing." But I could tell it wasn't nothing. I took Percy's hand and started looking over my shoulder, too. I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh. As the last passengers got on, I immediately clamped my hand onto Percy's knee. "Percy." It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face. I scrunched down in my seat. Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers. And I was now sure, Mrs. Rudolph was one of them. They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves. The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime." "I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not." "All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!" "Who knows maybe they just want to play?" I said nervously. Annabeth gave me a look of irritation, "Not now," she said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows." "They don't open," Grover moaned. "A back exit?" she suggested. There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel. "Maybe a nice chat would help?" "They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?" "Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist." "They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof... ?" We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain. Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room." "So do I," said the second sister. "So do I," said the third sister. They all started coming down the aisle. "I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat." "What?" "You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away." "But you guys—" "There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering." "I can't just leave Y-- you guys!" "Don't worry about us," I assured him. "Go!" His hands were trembling. But I took the Yankees cap and put it on. And he simply vanished. Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at a spot. My heart was pounding. Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going. "Maybe if they approach us, I could try talking? I really was Mrs. Rudolph's favorite..." I stammered. "Yeah stage is yours." Annabeth answered. The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips. The Furies surrounded us, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?" The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right. "He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!" The Furies raised their whips. "Don't!" I stepped in front of them shaking. "H-Hi Mrs. Rudolph. W-What could you need?" Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it. To our surprise the bus jerked to the right. Everybody howled as we were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows. "Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!" The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us. We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins. Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river. The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. It was as if I didn't exist which was kinda offensive. "Hey! I'm also here!" I yelled pulling out my now glowing knife and helped Grover. "Hey!" A voice from the door way echoed. "Percy you idiot! Run!" I yelled. The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at him. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather. Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward him like huge nasty lizards. I don't know how but I managed to parkour my way to avoid them and get to Percy in no trouble. I raised my knife and stood in between of them. "Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die. I suggest you step away from him Y/N L/N." "I liked you better as a math teacher," he told her. She growled. Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening. Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword. The Furies hesitated. Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. "Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment." "Nice try," I told her. "Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried. Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at him. I managed to keep one of them and parried with her using my knife., which turned out to be Mrs. Rudolph. "I hate to admit it but you were my favorite teacher. Why go mean now?!" I struck with the hilt of my knife against her, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned to see Percy had sliced the Fury on his right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. "Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!" Mrs. Rudolph came at me again, talons ready, but I dove in and got in range to swing Sting at her and she broke open like a piñata. Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down. "Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!" "Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled. I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!" Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck. "Get out!" Annabeth yelled at us. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement. Taking Percy's hand, we rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword. "Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—" BOOOOOM! The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead. "Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!" We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

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UwU Haha this is what the knife looks like since I'm not sure if I describe it that well... Omg I just realized my brother changed the chapter title lmao -kookie-doughs

Just imagine it has your name on the blade.

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[crowdvscritic]

round up // JULY 21

‘Tis the season to beat the heat at the always-cold theatres and next to fans set at turbo speed. While my movie watching slowed a bit with the launch of the Summer Olympics on July 23rd, I’ve still got plenty of popcorn-ready and artsy recommendations for you. A few themes in the new-to-me pop culture I’m recommending this month:

Casts oozing with embarrassing levels of talent (sometimes overqualified for the movies they’re in)

Pop culture that is responding or reinterpreting past pop culture

Stories that get weEeEeird

Keep on-a-scrollin’ to see which is which!

July Crowd-Pleasers

1. Double Feature – ‘90s Rom-Coms feat. Lots of Lies: Mystery Date (1991) + The Pallbearer (1996)

In Mystery Date (Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 6/10), Ethan Hawke and Teri Polo get set up on a blind date that gets so bizarre and crime-y I’m not sure how this didn’t come out in the ‘80s. In The Pallbearer (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), David Schwimmer and Gwyneth Paltrow try to combine The Graduate with Four Weddings and a Funeral in a story about lost twentysomethings. If you don’t like rom-coms in which circumstances depend on lots of lies and misunderstandings, these won’t be your jam, but if you’re like me and don’t mind these somewhat-cliché devices, you’ll be hooked by likeable casts and plenty of rom and com.

2. The Tomorrow War (2021)

I thought of no fewer movies than this list while watching: Alien, Aliens, Angel Has Fallen, Cloverfield, Interstellar, Kong: Skull Island, Prometheus, A Quiet Place: Part II, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: The Revenge of the Sith, The Silence of the Lambs, The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and World War Z. And you know what? I like all those movies! (Okay, maybe I just have a healthy respect/fear of The Silence of the Lambs.) The Tomorrow War may not be original, but it borrows some of the best tropes and beats from the sci-fi and action genres, so much so I wish I could’ve seen Chris Pratt and Co. fight those gross monsters on a big screen. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6/10

3. Dream a Little Dream (1989)

My July pick for the Dumb Rom-Com I Nevertheless Enjoyed! I CANNOT explain the mechanics of this body switch comedy to you—nor can the back of the DVD case above—but, boy, what an ‘80s MOOD. I did not know I needed to see a choreographed dance routine starring Jason Robards and Corey Feldman, but I DID. All I know is some movies are made for me and that I’m now a card-carrying member of the Two Coreys fan club. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

4. Black Widow (2021)

The braids! The Pugh! Black Widow worked for me both as an exciting action adventure and as a respite from the Marvel adventures dependent on a long memory of the franchise. (Well, mostly—keep reading for a second MCU rec much more dependent on the gobs of previous releases.) Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

5. Liar Liar (1997)

Guys, Jim Carrey is hilarious. That’s it—that’s the review. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10

6. Sob Rock by John Mayer (2021)

It’s very possible I’ve already listened to this record more than all other John Mayer records. It doesn’t surpass the capital-G Greatness of Continuum, but it’s a little bit of old school Mayer, a little bit ‘80s soft rock/pop, and I’ve had it on repeat most of the two weeks since it’s been out. Featuring the boppiest bop that ever bopped, at least one lyrical gem in every track, and an ad campaign focused on Walkmans, this record skirts the line between Crowd faves and Critic-worthy musicianship.

7. Double Feature – ‘00s Ben Affleck Political Thrillers: The Sum of All Fears (2002) + State of Play (2009)

In The Sum of All Fears (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), Ben Affleck is Jack Ryan caught up in yet another international incident. In State of Play (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), he’s a hotshot Congressman caught up in a scandal. Both are full of plot twists and unexpected turns, and in both, Affleck is accompanied by actors you’re always happy to see, like Jason Bateman, James Cromwell, Russell Crowe, Jeff Daniels, Viola Davis, Morgan Freeman, Philip Baker Hall, David Harbour, Rachel McAdams, Helen Mirren, Liev Schreiber, and Robin Wright—yes, I swear all of those people are in just those two movies.

8. Loki (2021-)

Unlike Black Widow, you can’t go into Loki with no MCU experience. The show finds clever ways to nudge us with reminders (and did better at it than Falcon and the Winter Soldier), but be forewarned that at some point, you’re just going to have to let go and accept wherever this timeline-hopper is taking you. An ever-charismatic cast keeps us grounded (Owen Wilson, Jonathan Majors, and an alligator almost steal the show from Tom Hiddleston in some eps), but while Falcon lasted an episode or two too long, Loki could’ve used a few more to flesh out its complicated plot and develop its characters. Thankfully, the jokes matter almost as much as the sci-fi, so you can still have fun even if you have no idea what’s going on.

9. Double Feature – Bruce Willis: Die Hard With a Vengeance (1995) + The Whole Nine Yards (2000)

Before Bruce Willis began starring in many random direct-to-DVD movies I only ever hear about in my Redbox emails, he was a Movie Star smirking his way up the box office charts. In the third Die Hard (Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), he teams up with Samuel L. Jackson to decipher the riddles of a terrorist madman (Jeremy Irons), and it’s a thrill ride. In The Whole Nine Yards (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10), he’s hitman that screws up dentist Matthew Perry’s boring life in Canada, and—aside from one frustrating scene of let’s-objectify-women-style nudity—it’s hilarious.

10. This Is the End (2013)

On paper, this is not a movie for me. An irreverent stoner comedy about a bunch of bros partying it up before the end of the world? None of things are for Taylors. But with a little help of a TV edit to pare down the raunchy and crude bits, I laughed my way through and spent the next several days thinking through its exploration of what makes a good person. While little of the plot is accurate to Christian Gospel and theology, some of its big ideas are consistent enough with the themes of the book of Revelation I found myself thinking about it again in church this morning. (Would love to know if Seth Rogen ever expected that.) Plus, I love a good self-aware celebrity spoof—can’t tell you how many times I’ve just laughed remembering the line, “It’s me, Jonah Hill, from Moneyball”—and an homage to horror classics. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10

July Critic Picks

1. Summer of Soul (…or, When the Television Could Not Be Televised) (2021)

Even director Questlove didn’t know about the Harlem Cultural Festival, but now he’s compiled the footage so we can all enjoy one of the coolest music fest lineups ever, including The 5th Dimension, B.B. King, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Nina Simone, Sly and the Family Stone, and Stevie Wonder, who made my friend’s baby dance more than once in the womb. See it on the big screen for top-notch audio. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

2. Good Morning, Vietnam (1987)

Robin Williams takes on the bureaucracy, disillusionment, and malaise of the Vietnam War with comedy. Williams was a one-of-a-kind talent, and here it’s on display at a level on par with Aladdin. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

3. Against the Rules Season 2 (2020-21)

Michael Lewis (author of Moneyball, adapted into a film starring Jonah Hill), is interested in how we talk about fairness. This season he looks at how coaches impact fairness in areas like college admissions, credit cards, and youth sports. 

4. Bugsy Malone (1976)

A gangster musical starring only children? It’s a little like someone just picked ideas out of a hat, but somehow it works. You can hear why in the Bugsy Malone episode Kyla and I released this month on SO IT’S A SHOW?, plus how this weird artifact of a film connects with Gilmore Girls.

5. The Queen (2006)

Before The Crown, Peter Morgan wrote The Queen, focusing on Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren) in the days following the death of Princess Diana. It’s a complex and compassionate drama, both for the Queen and for Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen, who has snuck up on me to become a favorite character actor). Maybe I’ve got a problem, but I’ll never tire of the analysis of this famous family. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9.5/10

6. The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

This month at ZekeFilm, we took a closer look at Revisionist Westerns we’ve missed. I fell hard for Roy Bean, and I think you will, too, if for no other reason than you might like a story starring Jacqueline Bisset, Ava Gardner, John Huston, Paul Newman, and Anthony Perkins. Oh, and a bear! Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

7. New Trailer Round Up

Naked Singularity (Aug. 6) – John Boyega in a crime thriller!

Queenpins (Aug. 10) – A crime comedy about extreme coupon-ing!

Dune (Oct. 1) – I’ve been cooler on the anticipation for this film, but this new look has me cautiously intrigued thanks to the Bardem + Bautista + Brolin + Chalamet + Ferguson + Isaac + Momoa + Zendaya of it all.

The Last Duel (Oct. 15) – Affleck! Damon! Driver!

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (Nov. 11) - I’m not sure why we need this, but I’m down for the Paul Rudd + Finn Wolfhard combo

King Richard (Nov. 19) - Will Smith as Venus and Serena’s father!

Encanto (Nov. 24) – Disney and Lin-Manuel Miranda making more magic together!

House of Gucci (Nov. 24) - Gaga! Pacino! Driver! 

Also in July…

Kyla and I took a look at the classic supernatural soap Dark Shadows and why Sookie might be obsessed with it on Gilmore Girls.

I revisited a so-bad-it’s-good masterpiece that’s a surrealist dream even Fellini couldn’t have cooked up. Yes, for ZekeFilm I wrote about the Vanilla Ice movie, Cool as Ice, which is now a part of my Blu-ray collection.

Photo credits: Against the Rules. All others IMDb.com.

[manicdragondreamgirl]

I haven’t had chemistry since like 2008, and I’m also an idiot who likes to make my friends upset, so I rated the periodic table in order to tilt my friends:

Hydrogen - this is like your childhood friend who has always been with you more or less and always will be down to get a drink and chill even tho you haven’t spoken in years. Solid bro imo 7.5/10

Helium - always down for a good time, even if probably created Alvin and the Chipmunks which in some places is considered a war crime. 4/10

Lithium - Gives me bitchy vibes and is flammable as fuck if I remember. Skinny bitch with an attitude 3/10

Beryllium - idk this sounds like a sailor moon villain lol for that it can have a 6/10

Boron - more like BORONG amirite ha ha wait no seriously I have no idea lol 5/10 clean neutral rating

Carbon - *screaming* 2/10 I will not be taking questions

Nitrogen - cool cool cool tight tight tight 9/10 Nitrogen just is the cool hot chick you wish you were

Oxygen - kid who takes up all the glory for the group project even tho you did all the work, 4/10 for natural charisma

Fluorine - lol what are you knockoff chlorine lmfao bitch 3/10 reminds me of the dentist

Neon - I can vibe with this boy for his contributions to signs which cause my eyes to scream 8/10 modernized Art Deco thanks you

Sodium - 10/10 this is me and I won’t be taking questions next element

Magnesium - magnesium is a close relative of magnificent and therefore I think the case is closed folks 9/10

Aluminum - 10/10 for providing a home to my Diet Coke addiction I’d be dead without you

Silicon - 6.9/10 :smirk:

Phosphorous - This has a very soundly name and it’s welcome to do that but idk, not a fan, seems like he’d be smelly, 2/10

Sulfur - 1/10 pretty sure that dog farts are purely comprised of this and as such if I was leaving negative ratings I would

Chlorine - 7.8/10 for being in pools so we could swim without brain eating amoeba in the south you a champ

Argon - he seems like a nerd jk this guy has a good color 9/10 for just being himself

Potassium - I hate bananas and this word gives me the physical sensation of biting into one but only by thinking of abstract letters and making them into something which we can nutrientise from bananas and to me that shit is bananas, b a n a n a s — 3/10 for making me sing hollaback girl thru adhd word association

Calcium - hm my brain went to mega milk so you get a 2/10 today bud I don’t make the rules

Scandium - pretty sure this is fake lol what’s next faxdium, e-Mailite and copinium? 5/10

Titanium - this song’s a banger and also is the only thing that lets me wear earrings 10/10

Vanadium - if your erection lasts for longer than like idk it’s supposed to then don’t take vanadium wait what do you mean it’s not an ED treatment 4/10

Chromium - decent bloke shame the browser eats all your memory 5/10

Manganese - if a weeb tries to tell me how to pronounce mayonnaise one more time... 1/10

Iron - excellent tool against the fey, in your blood, what a bro, 10/10 this bitch slaps

Cobalt - has a powerful energy; I respect him. 8/10

Nickel - if I had a nickel for every time someone made this joke lol 5/10 he’s doing his best

Copper - taste bad 3/10

Zinc - isn’t that the dude in the green tunic and white tights who saves premcess Lelda or something lol 7/10 those games are good

Gallium - seems like a prick 4/10

Germanium - sounds like a child pronouncing geraniums which are superior 3/10

Arsenic - bad vibes coach 1/10

Selenium - isn’t this just sailor moon lol 10/10 love this bitch

Bromine - farmine wherever you aremine - 9/10 I love a good bro

Krypton - he’s okay I guess 5/10

Rubidium - yet another Steven universe villain who will be redeemed I imagine 4/10 seems a bit dull

Strontium - I feel nothing when I see this lad’s name and that seems like a shame 1/10 I don’t like it

Yttrium - this is an atrium in Yharnam, or something 8/10 would love to sit in one and make contact with higher beings

Zirconium - oh wait THIS is the sailor moon villain from the dead moon circus! 9/10 I enjoyed that arc

Niobium - seems sassy, I like that in an element 7/10

Molybdenum - I hate this one, rancid. 1/10 for making me have flashbacks to difficult Ancient Greek vocabulary there is no fucking way that sound combination is anything but Beta and Delta borking and then Latin being like oh imma steal that

Technetium - 6/10 decent name but seems a bit forced

Ruthenium - 5/10 kindly old lady element I guess lol

Rhodium - 10/10 this ain’t my first rhodium babee this lad has good vibes what a name what a king

Palladium - 10/10 for making me think of paladins

Silver - 12/10 I’m breaking the rules for this silver is the best it is so cool and also it is the other best tool for dealing with supernatural creatures when iron has failed you highly suggest Even if I am extremely allergic to it going into my ears...wait hold on

Cadmium - 2/10 sounds like a total douche

Indium - 8/10, i just think it’s independent and neat

Tin - 10/10 good ear sounds when involving rain and roof shapes and automatically reminds me of Nora Jones’s come away with me album which is also 10/10

Antimony - 7/10 decent protagonist good name all around seems rad

Tellurium - tell ur mom what? That’s so early 2010s league of legends humor bro 2.5/10

Iodine - strikes fear in my soul from having it poured on my wounds but this is why I have more pain tolerance than god 5.3/10

Xenon - I think this is a declension of Xena warrior princess which is a win in my eyes, 8/10

Caesium - kind of has a cunty Latin name, 4.5/10

Barium - yeah boss, bury’im! 7.5/10 I love a good mobster gag

Lanthanum - A bit pretentious on the Tolkien spectrum sorry bud 3/10 sounds like you’d be the dickwad elf everyone hates

Cerium - 6.5/10 I like this one, gives me a clean vibe

Praseodymium - the fuck who sneezed all their alphabet soup onto the paperwork and called it an element Christ we can’t keep doing this 1.5/10

Neodymium - oh my god what did I just say 1/10

Promethium - thank Christ we’re back to greek 9/10 Prometheus was a Chad I could get behind

Samarium - 5/10 gives me boring wizard vibes

Europium - 4.5/10 don’t rename opium chrissake can’t take these nerds anywhere

Gadolinium - 5/10 it’s a starship knockoff but it’s trying to be bold with the G sound

Terbium - 2/10 I don’t vibe with this one

Dysprosium - sounds like an antidepressant that has a lot of shitty side effects 3/10

Holmium - sounds like someone anxious asking their beloved to hold them 8/10 I like hurt/comfort fics

Erbium - you can’t just describe something as herby you daft bastard 2/10

Thulium - sounds like a spell I like it 8.5/10

Ytterbium - macguffin in a shite sci-fi show that gets highly overrated because BBC produced it and superwholock stans emerge and go utterly feral 1/10

Lutetium - bards are an element I agree 10/10

Hafnium - sounds like a river (my dog) sound and has a cute vibe, I’d offer it head pats 7/10

Tantalum - noooo you can’t be sad yuor so sexe haha 6.9/10 tantalizing

Tungsten - 10/10 this is a lad with history

Rhenium - 5.5/10 it’s ok

Osmium - 4/10 I wasn’t a big wizard of oz fan

Iridium - 9/10 sounds like iridescent and that’s in my top 10 favorite words and concepts

Platinum - 10/10 best Pokémon game

Gold - 7.9/10 all that glitters and all but it’s still pretty on some people, silver is better tho

Mercury - yikes 8/10 so it doesn’t kill me

Thallium - sounds like the brother character in a ps4 exclusive western rpg that oddly falls under the radar in terms of reviews and gets shafted at awards for no reason 7/10 I’ll support you tho

Lead - 2/10 that’s gonna be a no from me dawg pretty sure I still have lead in my hands from stabbing myself with my mechanical pencils

Bismuth - 6/10 sounds good in mouth and reminds me of biscuits for some reason, I’ll take it

Polonium - to thine own self be true so stop trying to act like the arts don’t influence science jk pretty sure this is named for Poland but hey that’s where we get the Witcher so you get a pass 6/10

Astatine - 1/10 I don’t even know what you are

Radon - 7/10 this motherfucker knows his shit and how to party, rad is right

Francium - I bring you francium...and I bring you myrdurdium... 7/10 for a good vine

Radium - killed the video star probably 9/10 I can get behind her

Actinium - as opposed to passtinium I prefer actinium in the voice of writing 8/10

Thorium - overrated Norse god 5/10 because lightning is still cool

Protactinum - sounds like some pretentious condom brand 4/10 wouldn’t do it with a dude who bought these

Uranium - I always thought she was a hot sailor scout 10/10

Neptunium - same for her I knew they weren’t cousins you couldn’t lie to me 4kids 10/10

Plutonium - sounds like a macguffin unfortunately 5/10

Americium - I read this with a pivotal letter missing and nearly died, 7/10 for the laugh

Curium - 10/10 gives me Curie vibes and also reminds me of curiosity which reminds me of—[old yellered before the association could set in]

Berkelium - what I shout when I want Burke (fam dog) to slaughter innocents and raze territories 2/10 world was not meant to know his commands

Californium - 1/10 California is cool with geography but probs could stand to chill with the ego sorry to my friends in Cali

Einsteinium - 6/10 it’s alright but we’re really running out of ideas huh

Fermium - 3/10 this one is porny

Mendelevium - 1/10 my brain didn’t like parsing this and I stand by my earlier statement of running out of good names

Nobelium - 0/10 you didn’t name any noble gases this cowards this gas can’t be a noble oh wait it’s NOBEL I take it back 5/10 seems an alright chap

Lawrencium - fear the old blood my sorry dead hunter’s ass I’ll never get back my life from the hours I spent trying to beat this lava shitting bastard 2/10 for being a boss who eats Taco Bell specifically before being challenged to have fresh lava shit with which to punish you for having the audacity to exist in his space

Rutherfordium - my god what a snob 4.2/10 I respect him a little but only because he sounds like a right lad

Dubnium - DROP THE BASS 10/10

Seoborgium - not sure about this one but it can have a 7/10

Bohrium - as an American English speaker this sound combination makes my pathetic throat become a black hole as I try to properly create the sound of it 10/10 I love when my body becomes a massive void in the universe

Hassium - lazy 2/10

Elements 109-118 can go fuck themselves I hate them all, collective 6.66/10 for their general demonic vibe

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Jack: Silenced II

           When he thought about rolling over to see Flynn making her bed, Jack smiled. Her muscular figure would be silhouetted by the rays of dawn coming through the window, a tan blur against the black obsidian of Camp Othrys.

She walked around in her underwear in the morning. Luke said it was invitation. Jack knew it wasn’t. It was a marker of tested trust, Flynn’s willingness to be vulnerable knowing that Jack wouldn’t make the first move or ogle her. At least, that’s what Prometheus said when Jack brought up his concerns.

But, when Jack rolled over, there was no Camp Othrys, no line of Flynn’s weapons against the wall. His electric bass guitars were gone, as were all of his sketches of the Orpheus Metal band posters. (They were terrible—Pax had made better ones.)

A harp and loom lingered against one cavernous wall. There was a built-in fireplace roaring, providing some respite to the chilly air. The ceiling was crystalline, reflecting purple, emerald, and blue against the white bedding. Someone else’s bedding. It smelled like someone else.

Jack sat up, shoving the feather pillow away. He clutched at his hair, finding that someone must have trimmed it. He choked at the gap in his memory.

They had fought the Romans—an aerial attack against the Princess Andromeda. Jack was snatched by an eagle. Screams. Flynn’s roar of fury. He remembered falling in the water…

The clothing he wore was white, baggy, and cotton, too much like his hospital garb from the first time Steve, his step dad, institutionalized him. This prank has gone too far, Steve had said, angry Jack would dare scare Ashton and Shelby by claiming the walls were screaming. Jack’s skinny jeans and band shirt were gone. What if all of it had been a hallucination: Camp Othrys, the Princess Andromeda, the monsters, the gods.

Jack choked back a sob. This. This wasn’t the hospital. Jack dug his nails into his pockets, the material too thin and delicate to keep him from clawing his legs in a panic. No Mr. Sunny. His pillbox, and all of his medication, was gone. How much time did he have? He knew the withdraw symptoms: vomiting, hypersalivation, diarrhea, diaphoresis, insomnia, agitation, and rapid psychosis.

He had woken in a cold sweat, but a cold sweat didn’t always mean withdraws.

Rapid psychosis. Jack’s heartbeat thudded in his head. This felt real, but everything always felt real—that was the problem. There was a distant song—lovely and eerie, just abstract enough to question its authenticity.

His stomach churned with ignored hunger. A platter with tropical fruits, bread, and a mug of water lay beside him. Jack knew enough about mythology and fairy tales not to eat something unless you were directly invited and only if you knew that the owner of the food wasn’t a witch with powers to trap you eternally.

She must have undressed me. That girl with the caramel braid. Unease squeezed away any hunger: a stranger had taken off his boxers while he slept.

When Jack got to his feet, his legs trembled and his head pounded. He slipped a blanket around his shoulders. As he wandered towards the cave entrance, he passed a shelf filled with dried and drying plants that smelled of Alabaster’s laboratory. Several ancient tomes lined a desk beside it. One was open to a page illustrating human anatomy with words in… Minoan, if Jack had to guess. Some of the titans at Camp Othrys wrote in the dead language. Jack turned the page and flinched. There was an inked sketch of him, sleeping. He turned the page back.

Was it him? Or had his brain filled in the gaps?

It’s starting. Monsters. He was going to start to see and hear monsters again. Not the real ones. Not the friendly ones on his ship. Not the ones that came to his monster seminars about how demigods were friends, not food. Innocuous, innocent things would become sinister and comfort would lilt to paranoia.

         But there were no monsters outside the cave. Just her.

         The sun’s amber and coral hues broke against the ocean’s horizon, bleeding into the water and clouds to unite them into zigzagging, heavenly passageways. Crepuscular rays danced through their holes, making this girl’s hair glow as though one more constant in the coming of dawn. She stood, singing, at the edge of a beach. Her bare feet made lumps in the sand, compounding with each flush of the tide; if she forgot herself for long enough, the earth would reclaim her.

         Jack swallowed. In the oncoming lighting, he could see the silhouettes of flowers—so many flowers. There was a maze of roses, larkspur, delphinium, lilies, hollyhock, and sunflowers, all reaching towards the sky and curling about with a careless grace that looked both wild and tamed in their pattern. Some whisper cooed that these flowers didn’t belong together, making Jack fear they’d bow and bury him if he dared to walk through.

         But he needed to walk through to get to the beach, to follow the siren call. He hesitantly passed the first rose bush, expecting it to jump into Alice in Wonderland levels of criticism.

         “Jack!”

         The call made him jump away from the roses. After an exhale, he realized it was the girl, not chatty flora. He rushed past the rest of the flowers.

         “You’re already up,” she said when he reached her. The comment sounded more surprised than the disappointment he’d detected last time. Her white, sleeveless dress and braid fluttered in an ocean breeze. The effect made Jack’s blanket feel like an epic cloak.

         He gestured to his clothing and back towards the cave. “Thank you for the hospitality, Ms…” He trailed off, frowning. His throat felt worn. He’d have to do his warm up exercises. At least there was plenty of salt water to gargle. “How did you know my name?”

         “Ms?” she echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh,” she giggled, “You talk in your sleep.”

         Jack didn’t—or no one ever said he had before. Pax (and Axel under the guise of worrying over Pax) had slept in his room when they’d had particularly bad nightmares. That sounded like something Pax would abuse, even subconsciously, and would result in Flynn taping both their mouths shut.  Morpheus liked to keep a strict record of who talked in their sleep, so he could play with demigods that slept through Alabaster’s lectures.

         Jack swallowed. “Um, Ms., I hate to be a bother, but I had a pill box in my pocket—”

         “I disposed of it. I don’t allow plastics on my island and the contents had been soiled by the ocean.”

         Jack choked. That was the first gift Flynn gave Jack—the first time he realized all his ballads, poems, and offers to carry her books hadn’t just annoyed her. She and Phil had been teaching him to carry it on his own, a marker of independence that made him proud, even if Flynn double checked every hour to assure he hadn’t overdosed on anything. Most people didn’t trust him with important things, but she and Phil were entrusting him with that.

         “You won’t need them here. Ogygia itself can soothe you—”

         Trembles shook from Jack’s core to his fingertips. “Ogygia,” he whispered, taking a step backwards. The beautiful horizon tilted. His hair felt course as he tugged at it. “You’re—you’re Calypso the Seductress, detainer of men—”

         Before the words left his mouth, he turned to flee. The sand slipped under his bare feet. The blanket tumbled from his shoulders, disappearing with the sight of that horizon. Jack ran towards the retreating darkness of the island, away from the sunlight that sparkled in that glowing hair.

Others at camp found Homer and Hesiod’s work boring, but he’d put the Odyssey to proper music and knew most verses. He knew of this nymph-goddess.

Each step made Jack’s body feel leaden. His panic numbed with an encroaching exhaustion. He shouldn’t be this tired—he knew his body. He healed fast. This weakness—how could she—did she—?

Jack’s legs failed him while racing through the gardens. Rose canes loomed over him and curled around in a canopy of thorns. In their sharp and cloy embrace, consciousness hazed to nightmares.[1]

 ***

Pain pinched Jack’s cheek. He jerked away, expecting to see Pax with a super glue tube and fake mustache to make Jack “look more esteemed.” That prank had not gone well. Turns out, Flynn did not like Jack with a Western train-robber look and she did not like how the fake black hairs tickled when he nuzzled her.

Instead of Pax, he saw Calypso with a small bandage that she must have ripped off his face. There was a tiny, brownish-red scab on the other side.

Jack sat up and jerked back from her. They were back in the cavern, on the mattress made of white fluffiness. She had a basket of tiny bandages at her side.

“Calypso the—”

“Don’t.” She placed her hands on her hips, glaring. Considering how she knelt beside him, her regale stature was impressive. “I get messages from the gods, you know. They call you Jak-Jak the Scourge of New Rome, Jak-Jak the Plague Bringer, Jak-Jak the Corrupted Spawn of Apollo. Need I go one? Shall I assume you’re here to plague me? To give me cancerous sores? Shall I make assumptions of your person off hearsay, like you have done with me? How long ago did Homer and Hesiod write that libel about Odysseus?”

Her eyes watered.

Jack frowned. Had his name really traveled that far?

A tear streaked down her perfect cheek: a raindrop down the smoothness of a statue. Rumor had it that Pax could cry on command. What if she could too?

Or, what if she was a good Samaritan helping out, decried, like many women had been, by the histories written by men?

Jack exhaled, telling himself to relax. He tried counting, the way Axel told him to when he got confused. Axel would be furious at him for this kind of assumption, for upsetting a mythological creature based off hearsay. There were lots of fabled monsters at Camp Othrys that were friendly (when well fed. Jack had to make rules about demigods being in the dining hall during monster feed time).

“I—I’m sorry, Ms. Calypso,” he said, looking down at his hands. There were more little bandages tapped across his forearms. From a quick examination of his skin, the thorn pricks had already healed and scarred over. The base guitar chord was still braided in a bracelet around his wrist. He touched the scars there, finding ridges where he’d healed Lucille and Lou Ellen’s skin by peeling off his own. That new kid, Ethan Naka—something, had joked that Jack’s arms would start to match Flynn’s burned face. Jack gave him a case of chicken pox for that. No one was allowed to talk about Flynn’s face, except Flynn herself and their son, Pax. Pax, only because he was a sweet little munchin and the only person other than Jack that could make Flynn blush.

Calypso gently touched his chin. Jack didn’t flinch back this time. “It is alright.” And, she ripped off another bandage. Some hair came away with it, making Jack wince.

Everything seemed… clearer. Sharper than it had in years. His thoughts raced with a hyper clarity that scared him. “What else was wrong from the myth?” he asked, observing the cavern in a new light. The cool breeze that rustled the white curtains was refreshing, intermixing the gentle sweetness of flowers with the herbs in her cabinet. He frowned at the tomes there. Had he imagined the drawing of him?

She dabbed a cool, wet cloth against his stinging skin. Sadness lined her eyes. She hesitated. “I don’t know what you know of this place, brave one. The island is a phantom island, my imprisonment for helping my father in the first Titan War. Time does not have the same meaning here as it does elsewhere.”

Jack glanced past her, to the roaring fire in the wall’s inset fireplace. There was a pot over the flames, boiling furiously. He swallowed, despite her earlier assurance. “You’re not going to… eat me, are you?”

“Eat you, my sweet?” Her eyes seemed to dance.

“Well, that response reaffirmed every fairytale fear that I had.”

Her laugh was melodious. She must have thought that had been a joke. It was not. “I’m afraid we mostly eat vegetables and fish here. There’s a scarcity of cannibalism on the island.”

Jack nodded, somewhat comforted. That hadn’t been in the original tale, but you never knew with Greek mythology. He didn’t want to be rude (again) but, if this was the Calypso, he had an important question. “How do I get off the island?”

“Jack, a terrible fate awaits you off the island. I cannot, in good consciousness, allow you to leave until you are healed, well-rested, and well.” She gestured to his lanky frame.

Once again, Jack considered pointing out that this was his natural state of stick-figure Jackness. He let the offense slide. In the Odyssey, she said something similar to Odysseus. Staying here would worry Flynn, Luke, and the boys, but he had no way off the island unless he lucked into some abandoned boat or cartoon-barrel. In the Odyssey, Calypso gave Odysseus a bronze axe so he could build his own raft. Jack doubted he could lift an axe over his head without falling backwards let alone build a raft with it. Greeks were master ship-builders. Jack was a master builder of group-therapy sessions for monster support, metal bands, and stories to make Luke, Flynn, and his boys smile.

Besides, Calypso helped Odysseus only after she held him captive for seven years and he provided her a son (or several, depending on the author). There were no sons on the island, unless they were hiding in the cartoon-barrels. Maybe the ancient authors truly had discredited her.

“I can stay,” he said hesitantly, “but only for a few days. Flynn, Luke, and my boys need me.”

Calypso’s lips pursed and her gaze softened, making her look both relieved and troubled. She glanced away. “You’re so young to have children.”

“Oh, we adopted.” Jack beamed. “Luke says they’re too close in age to be my sons, and Axel says I’m not allowed to both be the head of our metal band and his father, but they’ve taken well to it. They haven’t started calling me dad yet, but I’ll work them over.”

Calypso looked confused. “Metal band?” she repeated.

Jack leaned forward excitedly. “We already played once at the HMM—a bar for monsters—er—a tavern.” He scrambled to find words that would translate to ones she would recognize. “The crowd loved us. Clops threw a goat at us!”

“A goat?”

“Yeah! A goat’s this four-legged—” Jack fumbled, realizing that’s not the part that confused her. She repressed a smile at the pause. “It’s a really big deal to have a monster throw a goat at you instead of trying to eat it. Kind of like when people throw their underwear at the stage and about as sanitary. Much lighter impact.”

“What?!” Her face scrunched in disgust. The expression was almost cute. It put Jack at ease. This was the first time he felt like she wasn’t acting or hiding anything. “People have thrown their underwear at you while you’re performing? Is that… normal?”

Jack considered this. “I don’t really know. It never happened to me when I did solos in the church choir—” Well, once after service but that was a little different. One of those instances where the boy denied it happened the next day. “—but Pax—one of my sons—talks about it like it’s a marker of success. I think they’re mostly thrown at Axel. He’s a handsome boy and a hearthrob amongst demigod and monster alike. Plus, he’s the guitarist, and the angsty one, and people always love angsty guitar players.”

The look of confusion deepened. Jack absently tugged a lock of his hair, wishing it was a little longer. “It’s like a lute—oh, wait, that was 13th century. Uh, it’s a fretted stringed instrument—anywhere from four to nine strings though standard is six, and you play it by plucking or strumming with one hand while fretting with the other—or picking. Or bapping the body. Uh—how about I make you one? All I need is a box, a longish piece of wood, some sticks, and some of your uncut harp strings.”

I can make an instrument, but can’t make a boat. Not for the first time, Jack wondered why Luke and Flynn wanted to keep him around. He managed to use his powers to save Axel, Pax, and Alabaster (though, really, he thought it was mostly Flynn. She was so incredible). But he still didn’t feel like he was great at the killing department, regardless of Phil’s continuous encouragement. Even during the interrogations he and Flynn had been conducting on Romans, he flinched and shrieked when someone’s finger was broken. Despite all this time, he hoped Flynn and Luke found him useful.

Calypso nodded slowly. “Will you teach me how to play?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “The positioning might seem weird, but you’ll pick it up easily. From what I’ve heard of your singing and harp-playing, you have perfect pitch and a natural grasp on music—”

She tucked a lock behind her ear. “You like my singing?”

He tilted his head quizzically. “Of course. You’re incredibly talented, both naturally with your voice quality and the amount of work you’ve put into perfecting your craft.” Jack supposed that’s what he’d do, too, if he had an eternity to work on anything. An eternity of music—the foundations for paradise. Maybe that’s why God is said to have a choir of angels and how he crafted souls: by singing them to life. “Each word you sing weaves a secondary layer of emotion—both melodious and melancholic, interweaving multiple stories into—” He frowned, feeling his explanation lacked poetic value—ah!

“’Tis sweet, when mournfulness enshrouds

The spirit sorrowing and pale,

And gather round the angry clouds,

To take the harp and tune its wail.

‘Tis sweet, when calmly broods the night,

To wander forth where waters roll,

And, mingling with the waves its voice,

To rouse the passions of the soul!”

When Jack was done, she stared at him, her eyes wide and her expression unreadable. He frowned. “I—sorry—” he said, his insides churning. Had he done something wrong? He didn’t feel confused right now. The world felt so much clearer. An uncomfortable dread settled into him upon realizing something for the first time: not everyone burst into poetry at random. How stupid had he been to not know that before?

“No.” She put a hand on his. Her eyes watered. “I—that was beautiful. Did you—”

Jack blushed and pulled his hand back. “No. It’s by John Rollin Ridge, a famous Native American poet. I was just reciting.”

She cleared her throat and looked away. “I—let’s get you a box. I wish to hear this guitar of which you speak.”

 ***

Normally, Jack felt such mania for whatever project he focused on, everything else fell in the background. As he twisted the tuning pegs of his guitar (sabotaged off Calypso’s extra harp) his mind scattered with worry.

This newfound clarity was almost overwhelming. There was so much wrong in the world for him to mull over. Each time he stopped singing, it hovered on its peripheral, like a night terror lurking along the receding rays of the sun.    

Between each question from Calypso—she enjoyed hearing updates from the outside world—he’d hum or sing the ballads he’d composed about Flynn’s ventures. Calypso would pause her work on the strings and stare at him with that unreadable expression.  

After she finished with the sixth string—winding them of her hair—she sat closer to him. They worked in the shade, where the woods met the beach. Some distant whisper warned Jack that more time had passed than the evening angle of the sun, but he couldn’t be sure. The sun was all he had to go off of, and he wasn’t used to the awareness of passing time. Normally, Jack felt the passage of existence through the crystal notes of a song, the annoyed flash of Flynn’s smile, Pax’s giggle, or the upwell of elation at the end of monster help session, measuring life in crescendos and decrescendos of energy and joy. Jack didn’t like wanting to look at a clock, especially now that there were none. That was always someone else’s job.

“Why did you adopt children?” Calypso asked it with the practiced calm of an over-thought question.

“Flynn can’t have children.” Jack had to be gentler with these strings than the metal ones from home. He wondered how their sound would differ, and hoped it would ease the 2,000—4,000 year transition in music for Calypso.

“She’s barren?”

“So says the goddess of childbirth.”

“And this doesn’t bother you?”

Another reason Jack couldn’t stay long: it was almost the weekend before he vanished and he and Flynn would need to go to her Nainia’s apartment to sing to her, as they did every Sunday. The kind grandmother’s health was failing and Jack knew they needed to visit more often. “Why should it?” Jack frowned, repeating the question in his head. “Well, it did when I first found out. I wanted a family. Then, I adopted[2] the boys, and now we have one. And, it wouldn’t matter even if she could. We’re not… physical. Recently, we started curling up without clothing, but nothing else. Just snuggles.”

Jack felt his cheeks flush, both at the memory of Flynn snuggled up in his bunk (she never let him near hers; she wanted a place of her own) and that he’d told Calypso about it. Was that something else people didn’t normally blurt out? To Luke or Phil? Sure. To Calypso the Seductress, the Detainer of Men…

Her cheeks rouged. Shame crept along his awareness. You weren’t supposed to blurt stuff like that. Negative two on the Jack social protocol scoreboard.

“Oh… um… But you’ve already adopted—have you two not been married long?” She struggled to maintain eye contact.

Something pinched in Jack’s chest. “Um… she’s not really into the idea of marriage, but we’ve been dating for…” With no clocks on the island, he didn’t know how many days he had been unconscious. Normally, Jack could recite the length of time down to the minute. The thought of Flynn’s blush when he asked her to prom. The day before he met Luke. The day Jack accidentally killed his whole mortal family with a song.

That memory hadn’t resurfaced in so long, not since he was sobbing into Flynn’s arms over it. How could he banish it from his thoughts? It wasn’t like the thoughts of his half-siblings he killed—the other children of Apollo. No. They deserved it. They had reaped the favor of their father since birth. The cessation of that favoritism brought the world back to order, the way things should be to balance the scale that an unfair god created, like correctly a flat note to perfect harmony. But his family… Had he ever even had a funeral? And did it matter?

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Calypso asked.

The funeral part did bother Jack. It took him a moment to retrace the pieces, sliding his fingers along the guitar string. Flynn. Sex. Marriage.

Flynn would puppet and charmspeak boys into their room to humiliate and toy with them, but, she wouldn’t take Jack. Jack never wanted to pressure her, but icy insecurity crawled through him at the thought. What was wrong with him? It didn’t matter that Prometheus said Jack and Flynn viewed sex differently: Jack, as an expression of love; Flynn, as subjugation. Jack didn’t understand that. All he wanted was to be everything Flynn needed, and he didn’t understand why she could puppet others but wouldn’t puppet him. If that’s what she wanted—

         The string snapped and lashed him across the cheek.

         He shrieked and jerked backwards. Blood trickled down his skin. A full string wasted—an instrument piece dying before it could sing its first song.

         Something cool touched his face. Humming filled his ears. The lashed skin tingled and Jack wondered if this is how others felt when he healed them.

         When Jack blinked to clear his vision, Calypso knelt beside him. Her too-perfect face rested in a gentle, knowing smile. The strap of her white dress slid onto her shoulder, tickled by the length of the braid. For the first time, she looked like the goddess of the island—something about the subtle shift in confidence.

         Jack flinched when he felt her spider fingers in his hair. She must have put them there to hold him steady for a cheek-cleaning. “You ran from me when you first found out who I was. Do you—did you really think I could make you forget Flynn?” The question could have been rhetorical, but there was enough real curiosity to make Jack tremble.  

Fear coiled his confidence, the same fear present when Luke lost himself to Kronos or his anger. If Calypso lost her temper…

         “Odysseus never forgot Penelope,” Jack whispered, “So the stories say.”  

Could that fear come from the possibility of forgetting Flynn? Do people only experience fear when they’re experiencing doubt or uncertainty?

At the watery glisten of her beautiful almond eyes, an idea made Jack sit up and almost clock foreheads with her. She startled at the sudden movement. “And you never forgot Odysseus!” Jack cried. “Calypso, do you always fall for the people on your island?”

Calypso hesitated. A tear broke from the dam along her eyelashes. “I… I try not to say anything when travelers first come…”

“Have you heard of platonic love?”

Her brow furrowed. Her melancholy faltered to confusion. “Platonic? You mean… relating to Plato? Or the idea that abstract objects are objective, timeless, and are non-physical and non-mental?”

Jack would need to ask Alabaster about that later. “Uh—well, I want to be your friend. You’re really nice, but you don’t need to fall in love with everyone you meet, or at least not romantic love. Let’s be friends! I mean—have you ever heard of a rebound?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you ever fully moved on from Odysseus. So, we should talk about him. Tell me what you loved and hated about him and why you fell for him in the first place.”

Calypso’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Exactly! You never forgave him for hurting you or yourself for loving him. Both are still hurting you. So, let me be your friend. Let me help you get over him without being a replacement for him. And, after this war is over, we can still be friends! Either we decapitate Zeus and his lackeys and his power no long holds you to the island, or we can keep in touch. I know the myths say I can’t come back twice, but I’ll bet I can Iris Message you. I mean, you have rainbows and Iris can go anywhere rainbows can.”

Her lips cracked to protest. Upon considering his words, she stared off at the coastline. “No one has thought of that before.”

Jack beamed. The fear was gone. He shoved a hand between the two of them (awkward due to the close quarters). “Let’s shake on it?”

Calypso glanced from Jack’s hand back to his face. Curiosity perched her lips. “You’re… one of the oddest men I’ve ever met, Jack Flash.”

Jack blushed. “I get that a lot.”

Cautiously, she shook his hand.

At the time, Jack didn’t think to make her swear on the River Styx.

He should have.

 ***

author’s note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This series is going to continue! I’ve just been struggling to focus on writing with some crazy stuff going on at home. ^.^’‘‘‘ Thanks for your patience and continued support!

 Footnotes:

[1] So, Homer’s Ogygia is as Riordan described it. I needed to at least alter the flowers so Jack wouldn’t immediately recognize where he was. Also, flowers for symbolism because I’m a tool.  

 [2] I kept accidentally writing, “kidnapped” here. Not too far off.

[manggaeteokki]

Secret Garden || intro

summary: for years and years, your mother whispered to you stories of the mythical secret garden, and for years, you thought they were just that: stories. but what happens when one day you stumble upon a place beyond your wildest imagination and not a clue how you got there?

come in and discover the legends of the Secret Garden.

pairing: ___ x reader, BTS x reader 

genre: fluff, romance, fantasy, alternate universe! au, smut (possibly?? *eyebrow wiggle*)

words: 1.7K

a/n: this is my first series and i’m super excited! this series will have a story in the garden for each member. please read the intro before delving into the stories!!! the intro sets up the stories, so its important to read, cuties. choose one to read or choose them all. either way, can’t wait to see you in the Garden!  (send an ask to be added to the taglist!!) 

“Do you ever think there could be other worlds besides ours?” your friend, Aila, asks while shoving a fistful of buttery popcorn in her mouth. 

It was Movie Night in your shared apartment, and your friend and roommate, Aila’s, brilliant suggestion of Prometheus was gracing your T.V. screen. She loved movies about otherworldly creatures coming to Earth and especially loved when an invasion was involved. You often questioned her movie taste, and she would explain that she likes the idea of Earth “not being the only planet with viable and intelligent beings.” It sounded insane, but in some ways it made sense, you rationalized. 

You shifted on the comfy couch to look towards her. While you didn’t necessarily refute the point, you couldn’t be sure that you could answer such a question or even know where to begin with an explanation. 

“When I was younger,” you started, “my mom used to always tell me stories of this other world that had a garden.” 

“Sounds fucking boring,” she retorted. You hit her shoulder and she winced in fake pain. 

“Shut up. Like I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted, she would tell me stories of this place. The way she talked about the garden… it made it seem like it was real,” you smiled remembering. “She said that every flower in existence bloomed there, and that as soon as you entered, a wave of calmness immediately washed over your body. ‘A pure form of serenity,’ she said.” 

“No offense but it sounds like that time I got high at the Botanical Gardens with Nico last summer,” she laughed and you shortly followed suit. 

“Yeah, but she also talked about these beings that lived there. I think she said there were seven of them. She said that they looked like humans, but on a closer look, their beauty was too ethereal to be so,” you babbled. 

Aila’s face contorted into confusion and wonder as you recalled the stories your mother told you at bedtime each night. The movie long forgotten, Aila inquired more and more about your beloved stories until the music signaling the end credits began to play. Aila stood up and began clearing the popcorn strays from the couch while you walked over to turn on the lights in the living room. 

Your roommate let out a yawn paired with a sound that could easily be compared to a banshee, and let you know that she would be heading to sleep as she had work early in the morning. You nodded your head in acknowledgement and let her know that you would be staying a while in the living to catch up on a show you had been binge-watching that week. Her door to her room closed and you landed on your couch with a fwump! 

“Finally I get to watch this damn show!” you exclaimed, reaching for the bucket of popcorn Aila left out for you. The intro to Elite started rolling, and you snuggled deeper into the worn-in couch. You let out a sigh of relaxation, allowing yourself to get immersed in the show. 

Two episodes and about 3 hours later (you used one of the hours to mindlessly scroll through your social media), you decided, albeit belatedly, that you should head to bed due to work being in seven hours. Working in research wasn’t as taxing as you thought, but it still required you to be awake and not slobbering on a keyboard for eight hours, as great as it sounded. 

You started to head toward your own room when you heard a thump against one of the doors in the small hallway where the doors leading to the bedrooms existed. You decided that you were more tired than you felt and thought the result was auditory hallucinations; however, as you got closer to the middle door between you and Aila’s bedroom, you heard it once again and this time louder. 

“Aila, what the hell are you doing in there?” you called out but there was no response. 

When you and Aila first toured the apartment, the middle door did not go unnoticed. When asked about the door and why it was locked, the landlord simply said that he bought it that way and never received a key. Many jokes were made in terms of what lie beyond the door; moreso by Aila and her extraterrestrial fantasies than you, but they induced plenty of laughs nonetheless. 

The thumping occurred from the middle door again, and fear slowly crept into your veins making your body feel a rush of coolness in the process. You knew not to try to open the door, not that it was even possible, but you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep with that incessant noise. You started banging on Aila’s door. 

“Aila, girl, I KNOW you hear that noise. Hurry up and come out! I’m scared,” you whined, but she still didn’t reply. You knew Aila was a heavy sleeper, but damn was she sleeping deep if she couldn’t hear you. 

You twisted the knob to her door and ran in expecting to see a lump on plump blankets in a human silhouette. Instead, you found her bed completely made, no human in sight. There was no way that Aila could have gone out the window, you guys were on the tenth floor. Things weren’t adding up, and you were on the verge of tears. 

A morbid curiosity suffused throughout your being as you slowly began walking towards the middle door. The thumping got louder with each step you took, and at some point, you couldn’t distinguish between the pounding of your heart in your eardrums and the perpetual beat against the mahogany entrance. You reached the door, and your hand encased the golden knob. You noted that it felt warm for a door that had supposedly not been used for a lengthy amount of time. With a twist of the knob, you were shocked to hear a click indicated the outdated door had been unlocked. You stood there for what seemed like forever, an array of questions racing through your mind. You finally gathered what little courage you had left and swung the door open. 

It was a bittersweet feeling when you listened to your mom. All those times when you wished you were spirited away from your life only to continue the mundane quickly taught you that stories were just stories. Myths were myths. Lies were lies. And gardens of every flower didn’t exist but in fairytales. 

So why, beyond a mysterious door in a crappy apartment, are the most beautiful meadows of flowers swaying in the wind, dancing a dance of entrancement, almost as if they were personally inviting you inside? Your eyes glassed over as you tried to process the view. It was as if your eyes were stuck in their place. 

You were frozen. 

It wasn’t until you heard the door shut behind you that realized you had moved inside. Your eyes whipped back, but you found yourself staring at acres and acres of flowers, not a door in sight. 

“Is there a reason you’re standing there like an idiot?” you heard a voice say. 

When you turned around, your eyes met your best friend and roommate. She donned a sheer ivory dress with golden acacias adorning her bodice and train. The silk threads shone in the sun almost as if the dress had been sewn by the heavens themselves. Her skin was as smooth as glass and possessed a beautiful brown pigment with a hint of olive. Champagne glitter bedecked the areas around her eyes, and her hair was tied up in a braid full of a different selection of flowers. Her eyebrow was raised and her arms were across her chest. You could hear her foot tapping against the ground in irritation. 

“Aila?” you whispered. 

“Who?” she practically yelled, “That is not my name, nor has it ever been.” 

You blushed, “then who are you?”

“Who am I?” she scoffed, “More like who are you? You’re the one who stood in the middle of the meadow as if you were waiting for someone to check you into a hotel.” 

Her tone was pissing you off, and if you had felt more comfortable in this situation, you would have told her exactly where she could have put it. Instead, you were too busy trying to figure out whether or not Aila put something in her popcorn. 

“I’m Y/N, and I don’t even know where I am or how I even got here,” you choked. 

The girl gave you a look then closed her eyes and sighed. She turned on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction without saying another word. Your eyebrows furrowed and your temper threatened to lose itself, but when she found that your footsteps were nowhere to be heard, she stopped in her tracks. 

“Are you coming or what?” she bleated. You nodded slightly and began walking quickly to catch up with her. 

You walked beside her for what seemed like forever, not sharing one word between each other, so you decided to take in your surroundings. 

You could see the flowers, yes, but you also saw little creatures you had never seen before participating in different tasks. Some were watering sections of plants, some were flitting and flying, sprinkling an unknown substance from the air that shone like diamonds, and some were simply laying down and napping in the sun. You walked further and found little manmade living spaces made from materials like twigs and leaves, and silently thought how adorable it all was. Just when you were counting your hundredth house, the girl suddenly stopped. 

“We’re here,” she stated. 

In front of you, seven paths diverged and outstretched throughout the pasture. Each one looked uniform at first glance, but the longer you looked, the more you could see the slight differences. With your lips slightly parted, you turned back towards the girl, however, the space she occupied was now taken up by a lanky, ginger, cat-like entity licking its paw. 

“What?” it spoke with the girl’s voice. 

You jumped back slightly but a calm hushed your body. You took a deep breath.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you asked.

“What do you normally do when you see multiple paths?” she snickered, continuing to lick her paw. You stayed silent and looked towards her. She stopped licking and instead arched her back gracefully. 

“Choose.”

[fuwafuwamedb]

Why We Don’t Trust Dreams (Romani, Proto Merlin, Merlin)

It occurred in a dream.

Her loving arms were wrapping around his waist, those eyes like pools of the sweetest pink, drowning him in an intoxicating aroma of lavender and sage. He couldn’t help but to feel obligated to warm her, since her body felt so cold.

The dream girl, the idol, the smiling and ever optimistic goddess of all time-

Magi*Mari.

Romani couldn’t help himself. Not right now.

He was not a true human, not in the sense that his life and his sins were a meager slate of a few lies and a few bits of pettiness or foolishness. The sheer amount of wrongness that he was could never be undone or outweighed. Like great Prometheus from the stories he’d read to Mash, his burden bore down upon his shoulders in such magnitude.

There was no one he could get close to.

There was no place he could seek eternal solace in.

The best chance that he had for anything was living and helping others in this life that he had made in this human body.

“You’ve been such a fan,” Magi*Mari cooed to him though, her beautiful hands stroking at his face. How was it that her hands could be so soft, so loving. Her fingers running through his hair seemed to sweep the pains away.

Remorse?

He could think of nothing as he found those sweet lips so close to his own.

“Romani,” she cooed, enunciated the syllables like she was tasting the very name upon her lips. “I saw all your letters. You were so animated about my work. It was so touching.”

Ah, what a dream this was.

Romani leaned in, watching her eyes widen for a moment before he kissed her.

“Mmmm,” the woman purred, those hands tangling in his hair. Her beautiful face was against his own, there was a static, a spark that seemed to light up between them. “Romani, sweet Romani…”

“I can only do this here,” he breathed.

Only here with her, in the deepest and darkest depths of his mind, could he dare to get close to someone like this. Already he was too close to Mash and Gudako. He had to turn them away. He had to send Da Vinci in their direction, building the bonds between the three women. There was danger ahead, risks and futures that may not include him after they learned the truth of him.

However, this was a dream.

He couldn’t be held accountable for his mind, could he?

“What are you thinking?” his dream idol purred.

“I am thinking about how much I want to show you love,” Romani replied, leaning in close. “Deeper love, Magi*Mari.” His hands pulled her stockinged thighs around his waist, his hands holding her waistband.

The fabric tore as he watched her, her gasp bringing a small smile to his lips.

“I will lend you my coat if you want to stop,” he offered.

“…Y-you’re so bold.” A flush was coming to those cheeks, the ever-knowing smile remaining on her lips. “Romani…”

That gaze darkened.

“I like this side of you.”

She liked…

The bubbling feeling was growing in him, like his head was buzzed from the finest of champagne. He leaned in, finding her lips again, his left hand moving to his belt to undo it in a single swipe. With them unbelted, he could only push the idol back, bringing his pants to his knees.

“Oh! You have my merch boxers! So sexy!”

He laughed, pressing his lips to hers again.

Precious Magi*Mari. She knew him so well. She loved him so deeply.

Rolling them over, he watched her hold a hand to her lips and gaze down at him.

“I want to let you be in charge,” Romani confessed to her. “You are my idol, after all. Your first time with me should be something that you control.”

“What if I get too rough?”

Too rough.

The woman was a lithe angel, with her cascade of snowy white hair and those gorgeous lips that drew him in for song after song. He’d always stayed up late into the night to see her perform and entertain. He’d ignored drills for her, even during the singularities, he’d sneak her videos on a spare monitor.

“You could never be too rough,” Romani replied. “Give me your best. I’m sure you will be amazing.”

The clever little smile never left her lips as she grabbed his hands. She let them trace down her body, moving around her chest and down her clothed front to where their bodies were close.

“You won’t stop halfway, right?”

“I will be your valiant knight to the end,” he vowed.

Her warmth was on him a moment later. The tight, wet walls of her core were holding him in a tender way, bringing a smile to his lips. Such a beautiful woman, here for him and him alone. No politics, no kingdoms, no chaos or trouble of any kind; he was a man and she- she was an immaculate mage idol.

“You’re so big,” she marveled.

Romani laughed, brushing a hand through her hair as she looked down at him. “You made me this way, Mari. Just you.”

“You’re so sweet to me. Have you… well, I don’t want to ask something mean.”

“I have done this, but not this well. Your touch is something special to me, Mari. Do what you want with me. My body is yours to explore.”

He would take her after she had grown accustomed to him, teaching her more and more about their bodies and what to do. Strangely, it already felt like he was sharing mana with her. It really felt realistic.

“LADY ME!”

The door flew open, sending him panicking. He yanked the woman’s body to his chest, hoisting the blankets up around them both.

Merlin stared in, eyes wide.

“You’re sleeping with our subscriber!?! LADY ME! HOW COULD YOU!?”

“Mer-Ma-lin!” Magi*Mari pouted. “He was so lonely and he’s so stiff! I could bang nails into the wall with his penis. Let me help him rub one out.”

“AH! MY OWN FEMALE SELF!” Merlin cried. “HELPING MEN GET LAID!”

“He’s so cute though!”

Romani felt his face burning as she yanked the covers out of his hands, exposing him.

“Look at the cute boxers!”

“What’s going on?” Gudako’s voice called.

Merlin glanced back, eyes widening as he hurried into the room.

“You can rub one out while I put up a blocker spell, but that’s it.”

“���Two?” His female self pleaded, her eyes turning watery. “He’s so lonely. We could make him the lady for it.”