#i got big plans for Metalworks

[lovelywingsart]

Plans for after 'Dear Mother' (kinda long plan update shite!)

So y'all have probably noticed that I'm going ham on 'Dear Mother' - Thats because I gave myself the goal of finishing it before years end. And, good news, its almost done!!! So really, im just here to say my plans afterwards since I really haven't been updating much at all;

> Immediately after Dear Mother is finished, I'll be going on a partial hiatus to finish Baldurs Gate 3 and give myself time to relax and just... give myself a fucking break. The only times I'll be on the computer are the 2 days a week my fiance uses the PS5 to play with friends, so those are the only time I'll be doing any kind of art, be it personal or commission work. So if you happen to get a commission, please do not expect it right away. The general TAT for small things is 2 weeks, and with this hiatus and minimal energy, it might be longer. But I'll be giving myself a very... VERY much needed break to finish BG3 and have more shenanigans afterwards.

> When hiatus is over, be it immediately after the game or giving some time to work on other things, I'll be starting a new comic, and will try to pace myself a little bit because its going to be... huge. There will also be one more Survival AU written story before it starts- because this comic will be the fight against Miranda, involving the Lords, Emelia and Ethan. It is going to be huge, and its going to be difficult. There will be no other primary written stories until after its done unless there's a drabble or something someone asks me to make. I'll be finishing up and perfecting a few stories for after that's done, though I will primarily be working on the Survival AU with art, as well.

> Now, when the Survival AU comic is done, I may take another break, because there's yet another comic I'm going to start, which will be Emelias arrival to the factory. The start of this comic will also kickstart primary work focusing on the first few years of Emelias arrival. I am going to say now that while yes, they may have their moments, there will be quite a bit of mildly uncomfortable subjects, as the first few years involved some heavy mutual abuse from both. You'll get to see how she got there and how they managed the first few years as well as quite a bit with her having... well, two eyes 😂 I'll give another warning when I get there but yknow. I've said before how genuinely dysfunctional they are with a few written examples, but I feel like it'll be a different story with proper visual...

And while I'm working on that fun little bit, I'll also be introducing a new written series that I've been secretly chipping away at- While I work on Emelias background and arrival, I'll also be working on Karls.

I will be working on/posting a small(?) mini(???) series of Karls own backstory. It will include his own 'arrival' to the village, interactions with Miranda and occasionally the Lords, and even smaller things such as the loss of his leg and how he got the scars across his nose and throat, all up until Emelia is dropped off. I don't plan on there being VERY many stories, though I will absolutely be more than open to writing for him if anyone has other ideas! 💙

And... thats it for now! Noting that the next two comics are going to take quite a while, ESPECIALLY the Survival AU one... I've no idea how long everything will take exactly, and all this is going off of if life decides to give me a fucking break. There's still alot going on, and I'm struggling alot... but I still have plans. Dear Mother will be finished before the new year (if not nearly exactly ON new years depending on our plans for the next two weeks and me not getting burnt out) and I'll have January to attempt to recuperate. Will I take the entire month? I'm not sure. But given shit doesn't go wrong like it did this year, we might be ok.

But... yeah! Thats about it. Right now I'm focusing on Dear Mother and trying my best. Comms ARE still open but will just take a lil bit more time than usual, so if you're fine waiting, hit me up 👍

[wooahaeproductions]

Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with. 

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal. 

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed. 

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep. 

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus. 

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound. 

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red.  Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. 

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in. 

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there. 

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register. 

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe. 

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more. 

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly. 

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?  

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus. 

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand. 

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?  

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know. 

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly. 

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings. 

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded. 

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple. 

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher. 

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now. 

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more. 

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.” 

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.” 

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall. 

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom. 

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second. 

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side. 

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now. 

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo. 

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving. 

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing. 

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap. 

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[inbetweenhours]

More of my parent/family musings about the empire characters! Got inspired and finished off my ideas for the season 1 cast!

vvv Links to other musings below vvv [Shrub here | Scott, Sausage, & Seablings here | Joel, Joey, & Katherine here]

Anyways, my art style slipped out of the cartoonish way it had been doing the others in this series so these are more normal sketches than the others.

under the cut I'll drop some quick ideas I have about the parents, like I have on previous posts for those interested :] Enjoy!

First up are LeeryDoe and KeenBronze! I'm sure the Grimland's naming scheme is making a bit of sense seeing the family all next to one another. Both the twins parents are Grimland's engineers, while LeeryDoe specializes more in concept and planning vs KeenBronze expertise in metalworking they make a pretty good team! They're a pretty normal family with their ups and downs. Not perfect by any means but there is care even when they don't necessarily fit together well. I could take about them ages but we see glimpses of them in my fic War on our Shores so I won't blab here lol.

Quick Note on Fwhips name, "Fwhip" is a nickname for FailWhip which google tells me is his old username. I have translated this to mean that the idea of "failing" isn't a bad thing in the Grimland and it has more associations with the idea of learning and perseverance or progress which is why its not a miserable baby name lol.

Pearl and her parents! I had some trouble with them since my Pinterest board for Helianthians is a bit difficult for me. But I managed! Her mum is guardian of Helianthia before Pearl inherits the title. She may be called the farmer queen by other nations, but Guardian is her official title. I don't have too many thoughts about them, they're farmers, they do politics when they need to, they're pretty chill mostly. Baby Pearl was difficult to design tho.

Pix was by far the most difficult child to design just because a big thing about identifying Pix's character in art for me is his age and especially his beard and taking that tire and age away really makes him hard to identify. I managed though lol.

Pix's parent I don't have many thoughts for outside of the idea of them being very haunted. Very tired haunted eyes, between being queen and being the keeper of the vigil I think they're a rather mourning duo and Pix's childhood was kinda emotionally weird because of that.

anyway that's all i got, so long till i figure out my season 2 cast maybe! :] feel free to ask questions about this i love my fanon lore a lot lol

[burningknucklecraftworks]

Finished product first, held by my wonderful spouse. Northshield is a kingdom big on the power of light. Our motto includes illumination as a virtue. We have a star named Griffin's Light. On top of the society A&S badge being a candle, our A&S awards are the Black Flame and Brigit's Flame. Since about year two of my tenure in the SCA I've dreamed of making a lantern scroll to honor that aspect and now I've done two. I'm so grateful to be surrounded by people who inspire me to push my boundaries and make cool art.

As such, these are lantern scrolls for Brigit's Flame awards, the GOA level Northshield arts and science award. One is for my wonderful friend Thegn Samson Muskovich (aka Samii), who does so much for the arts and sciences of the SCA. From metalworking with bronze and silver, to leatherwork and armoring, to teaching about existing as a trans person in the SCA and deep diving into the experience of the Gullah Geechee and making sure we know that the experience of Africans trafficked to America is as period as their resilience and resistance. I'm so proud that he's my cousin in the Choctaw tribe. The second is for the magnificent Dame Katerinka Lvovicha (aka Kat), who received her Brigit's Flame in 2015 but never got the scroll for it. She also does so much for Northshield, especially in the realms of heraldry and scribal arts, and she blasts a path for all Northshielders to feel safe by being extremely proactive about pronouns, cultural touchstones, and literally offering housing and travel assistance to people.

The inspirations for the project include these four lanterns and Morgan Donner's lantern build video. In the top row are two illustrations from period showing lanterns. The red lantern is from Book of Hours, MS M.972 fol. 1r, and has a bit of a splayed shape with a wider base and a turned dome at the top. It also has horn panels that aren't quite perfect fits for each side panel, as evidenced by the uneven horizontal lines. The second lantern, held by a crotchety dragonesque beast, is from Breviary, MS M. 8 fol. 158r and has a flat top with straight sides.

The second row shows two lantern awards made by other SCAdians. The first was made by Brig Ingen Erennaigh for a baronial service award called the Coill's Beacon, and the second is an Award of Arms by Northshield's own Tatiana Melville.

My original plan was actually to make a couple of so-called Viking lanterns like the kind you see all over Etsy. These usually consist of a top and bottom disc of wood, with dowels in between, and parchment or rawhide wrapped around the exterior. Extremely simple, and the parchment provides the perfect scroll text surface, but thanks to Morgan Donner's video, I now know those are dated to the 1800s. The idea of illuminated parchment stuck with me though and I decided to make a lantern more along the lines of the Breviary lantern but with simulated parchment in place of horn panes. I felt this was a good compromise between my original plan and a documentably period shape.

I didn't leave myself enough time to make this scroll, between the shield I made for Crown Tournament and Halloween festivities. Thinking fast, I ran out to my local hardware store for some precut 6 inch rounds. The ones I got have an ahistoric Roman ogee routed into the edge, but they'll add some nice visual detail to the scrolls.

Splitting my poplar side beams to width was vaguely harrowing on my radial arm saw. It would've been better to use my bandsaw but it's really not set up for use yet, so I made a janky jig and stood off to the side.

I was successful, and began the annoying process of carving 24 dowel tips.

Tools of the trade, and five doweled supports installed in the first base.

The coping saw did a great job of parting off each dowel end.

Dog bless the Shinso rasp. This thing makes my woodworking experience so much easier.

I got one set done and checked my progress. This looks really, really good so far.

I then grabbed some copper and went to town making the candle holders. I wanted these to have some give for different diameters of candles, including electric candles. These were made entirely off of Morgan Donner's video and aren't based on anything I personally researched, so I can't say anything to their historocity beyond knowing that sheet copper definitely wasn't the material of choice back then. I used a spare fat poplar dowel to form both holders.

I then used sidecutters to make the flanges, and bent them out flat. I used some brass brads to nail the holders to the bases, and pressed them through with my drill press just as I did with the tacks to the targe I made last month.

At this stage I needed to do a test fit, and boy was I happy with the way it looked so far. Now, I must say that this is not enough spacing between the candle and the lantern roof. It'll probably be alright, but it could also get pretty dang hot and risk a fire in there. A shorter candle would be better, but I have a hundred of these beeswax candles so I'm gonna give them away as gifts whenever I can.

Since the Book of Hours lantern is red and Samii's livery colors are red and gold, I painted his lantern red. I used a few different paints mixed together to achieve this shade, and then I sprayed the whole thing with matte polyurethane sealant.

I decided to make Kat's a nice golden oak color in contrast to the red lantern, based on so many being light colored in the various illustrations and illuminations I saw. It was down between this and painting it blue to match her arms, but I think I'm glad I did two very different finishes. The poplar is so green that the oak stain couldn't really compensate, but it's not bad. This lantern was sealed with finishing wax.

At this point Kim stepped in to get the scrolls done. This is Pergamenata, a perennial favorite of SCA scribes for having a similar surface feel and translucency to animal parchment. Usually I do illumination and word smithing while they just do the hand writing, but this time they took on all three of those tasks, much to my joy.

Here's Kat's scroll panes before color. You can see Kim used a template made off my test fit of the lantern to get the spacing correct. They used Speedball india ink and matched the hand to the calligraphy in CNM XXIII.C.124 Velislavova Bible, which they also took the design of the torch from.

Both scroll panes inked, painted and drying. We chose these scrolls to try tempera paint for the first time and the translucency of the tempera on the translucency of the perg is just so good.

Here's Kat's scroll panels with the oak-stained side supports.

Here's Samii's scroll panels with the red side supports.

The final assembly process. I had to cut the scroll panels into individual panes, because the spacing wasn't perfect. I used wood glue to affix the perg panes to the backside of each support, holding or clamping alternately to keep everything in place as the glue-wet perg curled away from the supports and then uncurled as the adhesive cured. It was a pain in the ass but it worked out. I then had to form two bronze rings for the tops of each lantern, and install hooks and loops to close the back pane, which has one end loose and wrapped around a thin piece of basswood.

Here is the final assembly completed, showing the door hooks made of bronze and the eyelet screws made of brass. This is not a very historic door shape, but it's what Morgan Donner hacked together for her lanterns and if it worked for her it'll work for me.

Kat's scroll completed as well, and here's the only view I have of the top suspension ring.

And of course it's not a lantern if you don't see it illuminated. I gave both recipients a beeswax candle and an electric candle, and this photo was taken with the electric candle in place. I had to wrap gaffer tape around the base to make it fit. The electric candle is actually pretty bright! Look at that pretty red paint, and not the fact that the support is slightly angled.

[tidyturnip]

toxic mentality tbh (jk jk I'm teasing please don't be mad)

starting a new hobby (as cheaply as possible) is my go-to reward for completing something big and difficult. let go of the notion that you have to "stick with" a hobby for that time spent to be valid. let go of "finishing what you started" as the goal of beginning a project. beginning something new is itself joyous and wonderful and you can plan to go exactly nowhere with it.

the curse is consumerism. yes, yarn is calling you! listen to that! succumb to the human experience of craving the act of creation!!! but do NOT go to hobby lobby and buy a shit ton of brand new yarn and needles, they're terrible people, please DM me and I'll send you a baby's first scarf kit for nothing but postage! half this yarn is inherited from people who got bored with knitting and donated it to me! i'd LOVE to pass that energy on to other new knitters, because I'm bored with knitting now! and that's okay!! my grandma got bored with crochet when she was in her 20s and put away the hooks and projects she'd inherited from HER mother! guess what! that's how I got my great-grams hooks and unfinished projects which are now priceless heirlooms

my current upcoming new hobbies to start when I get tired of ceramics and need dopamine:

glaze chemistry

kiln building

indoor vegetable gardening

lace making

calligraphy, again

spinning, again

3D printing, again

bookbinding

herbal remedies, again

mushroom hunting

basket making with foraged materials

hand carving wood

print making

ink making

you may have noticed that some of these are re-interests in things I've done before, in several cases I did get rid of the Stuff, so here are my tips for doing this without going bankrupt

get in touch with local crafting guilds, or adjacent crafts with similar tools (quilters may think you're weird for doing cosplay but they DO have sewing machines and the best scissors) and make friends with similarly enthusiastic dilettantes who may have materials or tools in storage from their own wanderings and who could trade - I think there's even a facebook group for ADHD crafters to destash their old hobbies to each other? I haven't needed to find them yet because of the following things:

learn tool-making crafts, such as basic woodworking, plastic forming, metalworking, etc. - I've made half my ceramics sculpting tools out of old credit cards, scrap wood, and milk jugs

join a local maker space for access to more expensive tools like sewing machines or lathes, even if your interest is solely in crafty stuff and they're all techbro-y. it'll do them good.

my favorite - mine history for historical crafts. the farther you go back in time, the simpler and easier the tools are to make. basket weaving requires nothing more than a knife, water, and patience!

every craft has old undiagnosed autistic people that are hyperfocused masters. find them. their sheds are full of old beginner's tools they might let you use for a song.

my last piece of advice is, learn the basics of how to safely and effectively store your old projects. i may be giving away a bunch of knitting stuff, but i'm keeping my old projects and the needles they're on because if i pick it back up, i might want to finish them, or maybe i get rid of them later (always an option). this means tightly closed storage bins with plenty of cedar sachets, stored in dry conditions. each material has its needs and i give you permission to hang on to stuff as long as you have space and can meet those needs.

release your guilt. you do not have to master shit. indulge the craving. create.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but

YOU DO NOT NEED TO START A NEW HOBBY!

STEP AWAY FROM THE TEXTILES!

YOU DON'T NEED MORE YARN!

THAT FABRIC IS NOT CALLING TO YOU! LEAVE IT ALONE!

[multiplayingorg]

Dead Space 2: NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

| Repost: Originally posted by Steve "Slurms" Lichtsinn on January 17, 2012

OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT.... WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING? THE SHIT IS THAT!? BURN IT WITH FIRE!

If you know me at all, you know I buy a lot of games. You might also know that I almost never pay full price. Dark Souls and Star Wars: The Old Republic were the only games in 2011 that I did shell out top dollar for, everything else was picked up at some sort of a discount. Towards the end of the year, some of the games I bought on sale from Amazon came with promotional codes to get 5 bucks off certain games in January of this year. I didn’t really plan on using the codes seeing as they were only to be used one at a time and only on the top selling downloadable games from 2011. The list is comprised mainly of The Sims expansions and games I’ve already owned in one way or another. Oh well.

Then EA started dropping prices on a few titles on the list. Grand Theft Auto IV was the first. I’ve owned the game before, but never on the PC. The price dropped all the way to 5 dollars. After my promotional code was applied…it was free. I may never play the game, but it was free.

The same thing happened a week later, but with Dead Space 2. A game that had been getting a lot of talk on podcasts I listen to in regards to “great games from 2011.” I’m not much of a horror game type person, just as I’m not big on horror films, but again… it was free. Unlike GTA though, I figured I’d give Dead Space a shot.

I downloaded and installed the game, then attempted to play it. I immediately had an issue with the menu. For some reason if you have a device such as a flight stick or a keypad (like the Logitech G13 as was my case) it screws up the camera and makes the game unplayable. I unhooked the G13 and reinstalled the game (tried fixing it via the txt file, but it didn’t work) and then once that was done everything was hunky dory.

Since I hadn’t played the first Dead Space, I took the few minutes to watch the “Previously on Dead Space” video that was provided in the menu. I really dug that they put that in rather than trying to get you up to speed within the game. I’m sure people who DID play the first title were quite appreciative of it as well. After the video ended, I went in.

Warning: Very light spoilers about the first handful of minutes into the game ahead.

I went in expecting things to pop out at me as if I were walking through a haunted house. Scary, sure, but also somewhat lame and annoying in a way that makes me want to hurt someone. Instead I was greeted by a man interrogating me, slowly unraveling the idea that I had some important information in my brain but was being treated like a psych patient, straight-jacket and all. Then shit went south. I wake up to a man who is visibly panicked trying to wake my character up in order to get moving.

Still in a straight-jacket because my panicked friend didn’t last long after waking me up, I proceed to run down the hall as FUCKING CHAOS ensues all around me. Necromorphs (big, nasty, half human, half goddamn gross creatures) are tearing apart people and crawling out of the woodwork. Although it’s in space… so there’s really not any wood. Metalwork? Yeah, crawling out of the metalwork. I have nothing but the ability to run, so that’s what I do.

I eventually make it to a sealed office where I run into the doctor who I met in the beginning of the game. Dude. Went. Nuts. I won’t spoil what happens; apart from he gets you out of your straight-jacket and gives you a flashlight. FORESHADOWING!

I soon walk into a room that has no lights. GOOD THING I GOT THIS FLASHLIGHT! It’s then that the game starts to scare me. Say what you will about me, but I will repeat: I am not a fan of the horror genre. So I begin to make my way through this room, dead bodies laying on the ground and sitting in chairs, and I just know something is going to pop out at my defenseless ass. NOT GONNA HAPPEN. So I hit escape and quit.

Look, the graphics are really great, the controls feel awesome, and if you like horror games I suggest you give it a whirl. It’s not for me though. This isn’t to say I’ll never play it again, but never again right before bed.

Maybe on a bright spring morning or something…

with extra lights in my cloffice…

and my iPod playing KC and the Sunshine Band.

[rosesloveletters]

Kingdom Come Undone.

pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

word count: 1,937

warnings: angst, language, cheating/unfaithfulness

summary: third part to my ‘Illicit Affairs’ mini series. 

notes: I got inspired to make another part for this tragic mini series I got swept up in. I wasn’t planning on continuing it, but I had a sudden burst of inspiration for it and wrote this based off Taylor Swift’s song Hoax. Enjoy~

unedited.

Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in.

Don’t want no other shade of blue, but you.

No other sadness in the world would do.

The aftermath of it all had broken you down, left your glittering exterior, once comparable to silver itself, tarnished with rust after years and years of misuse. You still thought back to the night you had left him there, shattered and heaped on the cold bedroom floor. All the anger had built up within you and all you wanted was to be left alone so you could hurt. No matter how many times you ran the scenario through in your head, you could not find a reason. What reason could there have been to lead him to do something like this? A part of you was still there with him, discarded and forgotten, swept under the bed never to be seen again. You were afraid you’d never be made whole again; the betrayal had hurt much, much worse than the act itself.

He had stuck the knife in and twisted gruesomely, pulling you apart so that he could see what was on the inside. Underneath those scars he left behind, your soul ached and bled at the seams. You had let him in, after all, so you were just as to blame. You were frozen with disbelief, your heart encased in ice that if a warm hand were to touch it, instead of melting it would disintegrate. Yours was the ash left in the wake of his fire, destruction, raging a war through your world till it was razed to the ground. It tore you apart because you had let him in. You had shown him the pieces of yourself, hidden from the rest of the world, even the tiniest fragments which made you who you were. He knew where to stick the knife; he knew the places it would hurt you the most and that, you were certain, was the worst of something like this.

Patrick hadn’t been the same young boy you had met years ago in some classroom at Padua High. He wasn’t the boy who sat on the bleachers and flicked cigarettes at the ground and crushed the leftover butts into the dirt beneath his sun-faded combat boots. He wasn’t the same boy who had always come to class late or not at all and every time he skipped and you didn’t go with him you’d wondered if something had been wrong, but then he showed up the next day with a big grin on his face and the warmth of the summer sun in him and then had you stopped worrying about him so much. He wasn’t the same as he was then and for the life of you, you could not remember the last time he had been that boy.

Things had started to change years ago, if you analyzed what your lives had been like since his grandfather passed. He started growing more distant, spending more time working and then sometimes not at all. Patrick had always wanted to do everything and nothing, all at the same time. In high school, things were easier for him, he could get away with a lot more than the grown-up world allowed him to. He couldn’t cut classes anymore because the equivalent was blowing off shifts at work and that had much more severe repercussions than missing a few classes. He was an intelligent young man, gifted in the art of metalwork and mechanics and he could make a decent living at that, taking into consideration that higher education and college were not in the cards for him. When he had gotten his diploma, that was the end of public or private education for Patrick Verona; he had no interest in it and Pat liked to do things that interested him.

As weeks turned into months turned into years, that light had begun to leave him. The spark of motivation that drove him towards success was no more. How many times he had been told it was all in his head and how many times he had not listened to a damn word of it. He was barely into his twenties and amidst the beginning stages of his very new adult life, he couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Instead of picking up a textbook or a toolbox, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey; he didn’t pour his heart out to you like he had done so frequently in the past, but he poured every drop out of that bottle.

There was more to your Patrick than he let you meet of him and that was what led to such great devastation. Perhaps a way could have been found, had you known what plagued him. It was not so hard for you to comprehend; Patrick hurt far more deeply than anyone you had ever known. He was more sensitive than any other soul in the world and for that reason were you afraid for him, for the boy you fell in love with and had only wanted to love him every day for the rest of your joined lives.

He had hurt you because that was all he knew how to do. He knew what it was like to hurt and he had been selfish in that right. You did not deserve to be hurt like this, by the person you trusted most in this cruel world. He had been granted access to your greatest weaknesses, painful memories and soft targets; he knew the easiest ways to make you crumble.

As much as it hurt to think on it now, you would soon get used to a life without Patrick. The most jarring part was the lack of him in your life, uprooting every shred of connection you had shared with this person felt foreign for all the wrong reasons. How were you to carry on without someone who had played such a vital role in your life? It felt almost like he had died and you mourned the loss of him as though it were true. You could picture a brighter future, one where the pain had dissipated, but you were not there yet. Your eyes still leaked tears onto the pillow where he used to lay his head on the corner and smile cheekily at you and scrunch up his nose when you pulled him in close. Perhaps a part of you died that day as well, because now all you had were the memories and those too were dirtied with the mud of his transgressions.

It was over now. It had to be, otherwise you could not have begun to carry on the same as though he had never been at all. You scrubbed away the haze that was your first young love and delved into the next chapter of your life because what more could you do? How else could you begin to forget him? How easily could you begin to forgive?

You had reached the very ends of your frayed rope, your heartstrings pulled taut and surely some had already snapped under the pressure of keeping the belief that there were still good things worth beating for. Even as time marched on, you occasionally thought of him and how you wondered what he was doing with his life now, but you never thought of her. You thought of yourself and how much you had grown since then, when you thought you knew nothing but as it turned out, you knew just a little about everything. You hadn’t meant much then, to anyone outside of your family and you had a difficult time explaining why it felt different to be loved by someone not bound by familial connection. You felt lost, forgotten, tossed aside, until Patrick had found you and decided you, of all he had to pick from, were his favorite. It still brought tears to your eyes to think of it that way and you always tried to picture the same bright boy you loved so much and still wondered if he pictured you the same way too. It was simpler when you first met than it was now and you were finally ready to heal.

Thoughts of him still lingered; would he, too?

My only one.

My kingdom come undone.

My broken my drum, you have beaten my heart.

[mxsinizter]

Some of Volcan's background 👀?

Volcan had a pack, but not a family. The pack took care of him, they did, but the emotional connection was never there. It didn't help that the pack didn't treat it like a real fire ghoul. They saw him as helpless and too weak and didn't trust his powers. Vol could barely manifest or control them and didn't exhibit the qualities the pack honored in a fire ghoul. For example, Vol was mostly non-verbal and soft-spoken, sensitive emotionally and physically (cried sometimes when playing with pack members cause they were too rough), and had very poor social understanding (got in big trouble once for his curiosity in a pack traveling by). Within a pure Fire pack, the young ones were expected to exhibit a certain type of vigor and fire that they never saw from little Volcan, the equivalent of a wingless bird almost.

Volcan's first memory, ironically, is fire engulfing him and harming him. It's probably the worst pain he remembers experiencing and somehow it didn't scar. A kind, fierce and much, much older ghoulette was the closest he had to a parental figure after the incident - but the pack lost her not long after. He spent time with other small ghouls sure, but he was never their close friend, first choice, or someone they actively sought out, y'know? Volcan got used to living in the shadows of the ghouls among him, cowering from their fire and unable to predict his own. Kept their head low and usually a good boy (one of the only praises it received because at least the pack didn't have to worry about it destroying shit at a certain age as most fire ghoul younglings did). 

Volcan played a lot with scraps, creating things with its hands. A young, but older ghoul once came across their creations when looking for scraps too and invited them to help out at a 'shop' he worked at. The ghoul actually went out of its way to teach Volcan about welding and metal work. (Ifrit reminds him of this ghoul a little bit.) They enjoyed making things for the pack, fixing things, making little toys for the younglings with scraps as he had done for himself. But it didn't fill that emptiness, no matter what, the pack would never be able to fill it. And then the Ministry was looking for an easy fire ghoul to summon. 

Some stuff to explain why and how he got summoned?:

This was between era II and III, ghouls were still frightened and not fully knowledgeable of what was going on. They searched for a fire ghoul preferable who could create. A ghoul to support the main ghouls of the Ministry - first job being the creation of new, well fitting mask and items to hold possibly dangerous ghouls. It'd be easier if it was one of their kind and someone who could infuse Magick. (Metalwork helped Volcan learn its Magick better, and since they are more tolerant to the burn than other ghouls of their pack, it made it easier to teach themself.) 

The pack was astounded when the silent outcast stepped up, reaching out and begging to be the one to be catched by the summoners. To his luck, he was.

Little random notes I think I should point out and that may add to Volcan's lore: 

Fire ghouls can stand heat better the further down they are in hell. The pack Volcan comes from is one of the 'lesser' packs close to the surface. That also made it easier for him to be the one to get summoned. Volcan's difficulty with Magick, yet high tolerance of its effects might hint that they come from a bloodline of a different pack 👀. I don't plan on going anywhere with that though - besides that Vol may turn out to be a lot stronger and powerful than he seemed. 

Don't mind me... just gonna go off and introduce my 🔥 ghoul oc Volcan :D and its relationships with Cowbell and Earth (and mentions of Ifrit)

Goes by it/they/he pronouns, amab, and stands at 5'10 glamoured. Short-ish curly hair shaved on the sides, thick eyebrows, dark brown eyes (hints of red maybe). Meaty, chubby boy. Introverted, not very talkative but a super curious creature. Likes welding. Smiles very easily, will be the one that can't stop laughing at an inappropriate time b/c they can't control it. Cowbell takes advantage of that 💀, speaking of.... very close buddies with Cowbell and Earth! Bell is the one that really started bringing them out of its shell, sparking the fire in him. Met Ifrit through Cowbell and Cowbell has never regretted introducing two individuals more lmao. They love torturing and pranking the poor ghoul. (Will never forgive them for the itching powder in the underwear prank.) Vol and Bell have that dynamic where Volcan can secretly be the more mischievous one at times, yet the blame always falls on Cowbell. Balance each other out pretty well and love just vibing and trying all types of snacks and weird stuff together. Just two goofy guys goofing off, always have some random thing going on. (Currently seeing how many times they can make Earth trip until he realizes that someone is behind it and not him just being clumsy.)

Vol secretly (obv to Cowbell) has a little boy crush on Earth. He just really admires and looks up to him and dies inside when Earth's attention is strictly on it. Earth is somehow clueless of their feelings. Earth sees them and goes 'omg, just a lil guy', despite only being a few inches taller. The two of them can easily find comfort in one another and love having movie nights or going for walks in the forest during sunset or sunrise. Earth is very gentle with them but not in an overbearing and babying type of way and that means sm to Volcan (Cowbell's sometimes guilty of doing this, has reasons why, but still.) There's been a few times they've fallen asleep together; one time, they rubbed noses while half asleep and holy shit Volcan thought it was gonna explode. It's happened a couple of times again while they're both sleepy and somehow end up cuddling and shit does he look forward to the possibility of it happening again.

Earth gave Vol the nickname Bunny/Bun cause of its softness and love for rabbits (has rehabilitated rabbits before, there's quite a lot in the surrounding area, Earth loves helping). Ifrit makes fun of him every time he hears Earth call them the nicknames b/c he notices the effect it has on Volcan.

Little NSFW bit…. Guilty of sometimes thinking about Earth during solo pleasure time and once thought about him calling him Bunny during and holy shit he busted so fast 💀. Ever since the nickname always brings a lil extra reaction if ya catch my drift. He feels so guilty about it.

Little does it know… Cowbell has been trying to convince an insecure Earth to ask him out cause fuck, Earth's starting to fall hard for his little bunny and needs to do something about it.

[myrealityisbooks]

It’s midnight and I’m feeling sad and lonely so naturally I’ve started thinking about the old guard and farmers’s markets, like who would bring what to sell. Here we go:

Joe/Nicky: This one’s a no-brainer to me, obviously if they’re working together in this scenario then they’re bringing crafts/handmade home goods. Hand carved cutting boards and utensils and coasters, pretty prints and pressed flowers, all the little stuff that can make a house a home (these booths are my ultimate weakness)

Joe: If Joe had his own booth he’d definitely be the guy selling prints and pottery while doing demonstrations/working on pieces during the market. Being super friendly and talking abt his technique w/ anyone who’s interested, wants to know why ppl are looking for a vase or flower painting bc he likes knowing what ppls plans are for the things he brings into the world

Nicky: Nicky on his own is either the guy selling homemade pasta/sauces/spice mixes or that one scruffy guy with a fold up table about to collapse under the weight of just so much produce. How did he get it all here? Did anyone help him?? He lets ppl haggle abt prices and is super passionate about letting ppl know every bit of how his stuff came to be, it’s important to him that customers know the stuff they’re buying is local, cruelty-free and made/grown with love

Nile: Also an artist selling her pieces, but she definitely draws the younger crowd more than Joe lmao. She’s got more quote prints and pop-culture things, touching on social issues maybe. Also I think she’d enjoy making jewelry!! Hand-bent earrings and bracelets that each have unique beading, she’ll take custom orders and make cool charms and things to pair with each other

Booker: He’s for sure manning the booth that’s just covered in various bread and pastries, but instead of being happy and engaging he looks like he wants to die on this beautiful Saturday morning. This big beefy sadboi has somehow crafted the most adorable mini pies ever, it’s like witchcraft. He will not interact w customers beyond transactions unless they’re really persistent and he’s packing up a full half hour before the market closes

Andy/Quynh: They’re the super intimidating couple that brings cool metalworks to the market, like metal signs and tables (swords and knives in my fantasy market if only). Andy looks almost as tired as Booker, Quynh will chat w/ customers if prompted. A lot of old guys go to their booth thinking that they’re selling their husbands’ pieces and walk away terrified and also more knowledgeable about welding. They’ve always got time to teach the little kids cool stuff tho, maybe they bring little scraps twisted into cool shapes to hand out

[eyedle]

new post dnd session diary entry: session went well! only three people showed up tho :( one person cancelled after the session started (she has never done this before so it’s not a biggie!) but two people never responded to whether they were coming and they didn’t :(

had some yummy food. feel a little bad i cant make really nice meals or sweets each week but it takes a lot of effort and i don’t have the time or ability sometimes :( cakes last week were scrumptious tho! definitely will make that for my bday/

i don’t know how the “dungeon but it’s a forest” vibe went, i think it didn’t connect as well as i would’ve liked it to. i wanted to keep the chaos and randomness of a fey forest but it’s in the material realm but i think it felt like the party was doing pointless things to just kill time. note to self: fix that.

tempest is getting some really good character development! she literally just needs a community that cares about her :( BUT it’s so awful that Corin is the traitor. I think Corin is regretting her involvement and is trying desperately to stop what’s going to happen but it’s too far gone. Especially after today. Tempest had this beautiful conversation with her about even if she can do what she wants, it won’t solve the guilt and pain in her heart, she needs to care for herself. idk i just loved that. really hit for me as a dm and someone who cares so much about what i can do to make others like me. no matter what i do and what i accomplish, i need to care for myself first and change that inner voice.

kostik and keyon talked about life. keyon likes kostik and it’s so sad :( i don’t think kostik had realized why keyon is so upset about him leaving

halfred, my beloved! he is developing a very interesting spell! idk how i’m going to write it yet but i’m feeling transmutation! it gives the spell caster the ability to make a object or drawing like a container for another object? basically kostik got two tattoos of his axes and he wants to magic them to hold his actual axes. so instead of carrying axes, they’re in his tattoos. pretty cool. love wizards that make their own spells. cannot wait for halfred to level up and get TELEPORT!!!

Selma is a fun npc, i hope the party actually goes to her bday in a month. she is so sweet. i don’t think the party has caught on to the connection between her flirting and wanting to be with people and the fact that everyone treats her like the least talented sibling. she’s a magic tattoo artist!! she’s so cool! shirley is kind of mean, but she’s got a business. hustle life. alistair… is there…

arco is a cute npc, buff guy, likes working out but had a soft spot for everyone at camp.. big himbo, loves his cat. into metalworking. i wish vivia hadn’t wanted to be with him and then ditched him when she found out he was a lightweight. he’s such a sweet little guy with a sad backstory :(

anyways session rating

dm: 5/10 could’ve been better planning

session: 7/10 chill energy. fun world element reveals. moon bunnies!

how does eman feel rn: 7/10 tired but not AWFUL. a lil hungry but i’m laying in bed

good night dungeons and dragons 💖

[lovelywingsart]

Here's an update, I promise I am alive!!!

I actually just got done playing Resident Evil 4 Remake, as well as replaying Village for a 4th time to work out some more details for Metalworks!

- RE4R was AWESOME, and it's officially the second RE game I've finished!!! I really loved it even though I did need some help from friends, and I do plan on eventually playing the other games as well! 😊💙 My favorite character was Luis, and yes I shot Krouser in the face with a rocket launcher. If you know, you know.

- Despite it being my 4th playthrough of Village(which I hopped into last night immediately after finishing 4R), I actually noticed a few things I hadn't before, specifically in Donnas section, which of course led into a few new headcanons both for Donnas part AND Karls(mostly Emelia), and even RE8!Mica thanks to Donna. I actually took a bunch of screenshots when playing as well, because I have... plans. 👀 Screenshot 'rendering' plans, like the one I did a while ago for Emelia. 👀👀👀

- This requires its own section because I'm including pictures, BUT- I also took the chance while going through the factory to write out some details about Emelias part of the game!

I've been meaning to write it out with a bit more detail, and I'm actually ADDING detail to it to flesh it out a bit more; but once the initial meeting in the Foundry is fleshed out, y'all are getting a Metalworks Main Timeline story for the first time in fucking forever. I'll *eventually* work out the meeting in the Survival AU, because there are some massive differences (other than the obvious). But I worked through the initial meeting as well as placement and all (done while looking around the room in game and all), and a nice chunk for what would be her Mini-Boss fight. What I DONT have is, obviously, the inclusion of items and all you'd be able to pick up for the fight, or the placement of her own 'diary' except for the very last page you find. I ALSO didn't include the part with selling the crystals to Duke which I just noticed, but I'll add that in later!

I dont think I'll play Shadows of Rose again immediately since it's also pretty fresh in my brain, and its easier to watch a playthrough since it's a simple layout/story instead of 'so much detail that a YouTuber would typically skip over but I need'. I'll work more on that at a later time when I'm farther into the Survival AU and get done alot of other things I want to do!

**If I DO write fully for the DLC, it will most likely be, like, 2 stories. One for her meeting Rose and another for when they beat Miranda again. There isn't too much in between.

But... yeah!! There's my massive text wall update.

Uploading to Instagram has been paused for a bit and I've been suffering through a depressingly large bour of art block(and probably impostor syndrome), hence why I played Village. It definitely helped, and I have a bunch of ideas for warm up before other big things.

Dear Mother is one of those things, as I've been stuck in the middle of the sketch because I hit a blank when halfway done. 🙃 BUT I'm gonna do a few things beforehand while hopefully chipping away at it, and once I get over the little speed bump of a panel I should be good!

I hope yall are as excited as I am, I'm really hoping that my brain works out fully to actually do everything I want. Its been a cycle of 'on and off again' for a good few weeks... hence why I took a break to play Resi. I figured it might help me clear my head a little and give some new ideas.

Here's hoping it works!! 💙

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 130

I am pretty excited for this chapter, not just for how it turned out but for what it sets up in the future. I don’t want to spoil it by saying anything more, but once y’all have read it, I would love to know your thoughts on it.

That said, I once again want to thank the people, coast to coast, who keep me going on this story: @the-raven-fae for being the original instigator and current podcaster of the story (check it out here!), @anotherusrname for being the best big sister a girl could ask for and for being the first person to publish any of this story in physical form (on a BLANKET no less), @baelpenrose for being my mutual beta and really egging me on more often than should probably be done, and @charlylimph-blog for... well for just being Charly. The real Charly, who is more chaotic than fictional Charly. And really, all 4 of the above for making sure I take care of myself.

“There’s some changes to the vendor list this year,” Hannah greeted as she arrived in my office.

I was still resisting the urge to cough, knowing that Noah had gotten all the chili powder out of me but nonetheless struggling against an imaginary itch in my throat.  Apparently she could tell, because she got a chai latte from the console for me as she took a seat and handed it over without acknowledging it. 

“From this list, I am going to guess that there is a huge fusion cuisine moment happening right now,” Parvati suggested.

“What gave it away? The Greek-Korean vendor, or the Brazilian-Icelandic?” Hannah joked.

I was extremely glad I had stopped sipping my latte as soon as Parvati spoke, or I would have choked on it. Yes! I thwarted the nefarious beverage! I thought to myself. “Do I even want to know how much fermented shark we are talking here?”

Parvati scrolled through her document and back to where she was, head tilted in scrutiny. “Probably not.”

“I’ll make a note to put them on the opposite end from the natto,” Hannah murmured. After doing that, she tipped her head back with a sigh. “This feels… I don’t know, empty?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scrolling through a list of upcoming cultural seminars that we were considering.  Jokul’s suggestion to more aggressively share cultures had been a  phenomenally well-received one, and the Council had even recognized him for the way it had taken off. At this point, there were more than anyone could attend, and several requests for repeats.

My entire thought process came screeching to a halt when Hannah explained.

“We’re talking about a huge community event while also in the process of planning how to defend ourselves in the event that space pirates try to wipe out the last known members of humanity,” she pointed out. “While also being on a list of phrases I never thought to even consider being something I thought I would never say - it’s that far out there - the fact that we are still facing potential annihilation makes the Food Festival seem more like one last hurrah.  It’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure the information Arthur and Charly got us demonstrated that we are more likely to be enslaved than exterminated,” Parvati added helpfully, earning a scowl from both of us. She just shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Yes, Vati, because that is so much better, thank you for reminding me,” Hannah quipped. “It still makes the Festival feel insignificant.”

“Maybe we should just cancel it - “

I slammed both my hands, palm down, on the table and surged to my feet. “Absolutely not.”

“Sophia - “

“No. This event is too important, we aren’t even humoring that notion.”

“I know that this is your baby, but hear us out…”

I shook my head vigorously. “I will not. This isn’t about me.” I pointed to both of them. “What you’re feeling right now? That’s exactly how nearly everyone on this ship feels. We are scared, and angry, and tilting ever closer to being despondent and just giving up. And that’s exactly why weeeee…” I gestured to the three of us, “can’t. We need stability, and something familiar, and a reminder of what it is like to live. To have fun.  To be as human as possible and stuff ourselves silly.  So if you think for one second I am going to let our own personal culinary Mardi Gras get cancelled, you are delusional.”

Hannah still looked reluctant, but Parvati’s expression changed so fast that it was actually terrifying. “You’re talking about raging against the dying of the light, aren’t you?”

There it was. The guerilla protester was starting to show.

Gracefully, she flowed to her feet, one finger tapping the side of her chin as she started pacing. “That’s an angle I don’t think we considered.” Without looking, she held up a hand to stop Hannah when the quieter woman opened her mouth to argue. “The Festival has always been about coming together, sharing, being peaceful. But, what if it isn’t this year?” She whirled, hair flying and eyes blazing. “The Festival will be two weeks into the next night cycle. We planned on soft emitters, retro style lamps and braziers for light. And we can still do that for the first two days. But day three…”

“Go all out,” Hannah ventured slowly. “Full on, wild, bright…”

“Yes! Blacklights, glow in the dark, fluorescents… Heavy bass in the music, the kind you feel in your chest more than you hear. Only the best dishes from each vendor, what they consider their finest achievements. Defiantly, loudly human.”

“Costumes encouraged?”

She scoffed. “Of course. Like those music festivals Before, only with food.  This isn’t our last hurrah, it’s going to be our rallying cry.”

Hannah seemed to be coming around to the notion, starting to nod with a focused expression on her face. “That would work. I can completely get behind that idea.  We’ll need Ivan.”

“And Charly Harper,” Parvati confirmed.

“Do tell,” I asked, not seeing where they were going with this.

“Ivan can help us with some of the metalwork we’ll need to reinforce the vendor’s booths. We want it to fit in with the theme, but still be functional.”

“And I don’t know where else to get enough glitter, or blacklight paint that doesn’t show under normal light.”

“Glitter…?” That terrified feeling was returning, and swiftly.

“So much glitter,” Parvati nodded seriously. “The kind that doesn’t set off sensory issues, and I know she has it at all times, I’ve seen it.  And flavorless food color, that stuff she uses in her ice cream and popcorn. I need all of it.”

I rubbed my temples as a headache started just from imagining what this was going to look like. She’s an artist, it will work. She’ll make it work, I know she will. “I put the Festival in your hands, you can do whatever you want except cancel it.”

“Just give Tyche a heads up so she can plan good costumes for you and the guys,” Hannah reassured, enthusiasm ignited at the idea of truly making the event their own.

The frown on my face actually gave me a cramp. “Why does someone else get to plan our costumes?”

“Because you wear really nice scrubs every day,” she pointed out without looking up.

“They’re comfy! But I’ll have you know I actually do know how to put together a costume, much less an outfit.”

Both of them eyed me skeptically, provoking a sigh of exasperation. “I am going to show you two, and you are both going to eat your words. Just wait.”  Deep down, under all the indignation, I was hugely relieved to have averted a crisis, especially since it wasn’t a matter of life and death for once.

I also could not wait to see their faces on night three.

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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 8: I Really Hate Water

The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur. Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth and sometimes Luke, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache. The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. I had struck around with Percy the whole time unless it was dinner time or night where I spent with Luke. Chiron tried to teach Percy and I archery, and we found out pretty quick he wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail. It was hilarious. While I on the other hand, could compete against Merida and Hawkeye with wining in favor of me. Foot racing? He sucked. The wood-nymph instructors and I left him in the dust. I told him not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But I guess, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree. And wrestling? Forget it. Every time he got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize him. Luckily I took some martial arts class back then and stood some chance against her. "There's more where that came from, punk," she'd mumble. The only thing he really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur I guess. But hey, He's better at canoeing than me. I don't even know how I drowned all the time. Percy had to save me a couple of times. I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching us, trying to decide who our Olympian parent was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I was as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork, luckily I didn't have Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me Percy might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make him feel better. He really didn't know what to make of me either. Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real parent. Nothing came. I tried not to think too much about my mom and dad, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save them, to bring them back.... Even D/N would do...

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my parent, whoever they were, make a phone appear? Thursday afternoon, three days after we'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor. We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good. The problem was, I couldn't find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me. We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be Percy's partner, since this was his first time. And then my turn after his, so I had to train with another kid from the cabin. "Good luck," one of the campers told us. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years." "Maybe he'll go easy on me," Percy said. The camper snorted. By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea. I turned to talk to Percy and he had done the same. "Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo." I wanted to try going against Luke as well. I wasn't confident with my skills. The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in his shoes before and couldn't wait to see how Luke used Percy for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon. "This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique." He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand. "Now in real time," he said, after Percy had retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?" He nodded, and Luke came after him. After a while of clashing, Percy tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted. Clang. Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of Percy's blade was an inch from his undefended chest. The other campers were silent. He lowered his sword. "Um, sorry." For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak. I had a huge grin on my face. I had no idea why, but I was proud. I was so close on giving him an encore and all that. "Sorry?" Luke's scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!" I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted. This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor. After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?" Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword... ." My time with Luke wasn't as amazing as Percy's was but I wasn't that bad. Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover and Percy at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me. Percy and I's shirts had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off our forearms. We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, I was resting my back on Percy's since I felt like any moment they'd drown me. Percy then ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D. His face turned a sickly shade of yellow. "Fine," he said. "Just great." "So your career's still on track?" He glanced at me nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?" "Well... no." I had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask. "He just said you had big plans, you know... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?" Percy said. Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete." "Well, that's not so bad, right?" "Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?" "Of course I'd want you along!" Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving... Must be nice to have a useful skill." I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. Percy and him talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins. "Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad." "Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?" Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos." "Zeus, Poseidon, Hades." "Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what." "Zeus got the sky," I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld." "Uh-huh." "But Hades doesn't have a cabin here." "No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here..." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that." "Why though? What would children of Hades do then? How would they fend themselves?" "I-I don't know... Its not my idea not adding Hades!" He shrieked as if he was at fault and felt guilty. "But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?" Percy changed the subject. Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx." Thunder boomed.. . . . . .. I said, "That's the most serious oath you can make." Grover nodded. "And the brothers kept their word—no kids?" Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia... well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter." "But that isn't fair.' It wasn't the little girl's fault." Grover hesitated. "Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill." He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where we'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill." I stared at the pine in the distance. The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. "Grover," Percy said, "have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?" "Sometimes," he said. "Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini." "And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?" "No. Never. Orpheus came close... . Percy, you're not seriously thinking—" "No," Percy said. "I was just wondering. So... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?" I looked over to him warily. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems." "And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special." Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?" I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than us. "What about me?" They looked at me. "Chiron said you didn't know I was a half-blood..." "We didn't. When you didn't forget who... Mrs Dodds was. We thought you just saw through the mist. Then when I saw you with Percy that night... and your parents aware of me and the camp. I assumed you were... a half-blood." "How about now? What do I smell like?" He looked at me gingerly then at Percy, "Nothing. You smell too human. Even for a very minor god. That's why there are plenty of satyrs then are confused as to why there's a human here. That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. At last, it was time for capture the flag. When the plates were cleared away, the horn sounded and we all stood at our tables. Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head. I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?" "Yeah." "Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" "Not always," he said. "But often." "So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do— repaint the flag?" He grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one." "Whose side are we on?" He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn't. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And Percy's going to help." The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support. Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters I wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet. Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. "Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!" He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxide shields coated in metal. "Whoa," I said. "We're really supposed to use these?" Luke looked at me and laughed. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here��Chiron thought these would fit. Do you want to be border patrol with Percy or come with me?" I smiled at him, "Tempting offer but I think I'll stay with Percy." "Your lost." He smirked then ruffled my hair. I went over to Percy who was holding a shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. Our helmet, like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes. "Looking at real good." I laughed. He frowned at me. "Like you look that different." "I am sporting this helmet just fine excuse you." I said picking up a dagger from the table. Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!" We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north. Percy and I managed to catch up with Annabeth without him tripping over my equipment. "Hey." She kept marching. "So what's the plan?" Percy asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?" Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I'd stolen something. "Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?" "Border patrol, whatever that means." "It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan." She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust. "Okay," he mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team." "I don't want to be near the creek." I said anxiously. "Maybe I should just go with Luke..." Percy then took my hand. "Since when have I ever let you drown? Don't worry. I'll be there for you." He smiled. With a pout and a worried look I stuck out my pinky said, "Promise me." "I swear I will never let you drown. I will save you with all I can." He swore connecting our pinkies. "Everyone knows pinky promises are better than Styx." We laughed and made our way to our station not letting go of each other's hands. It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed us next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees. The bronze sword, like all the swords I'd tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hand like a bowling ball. There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right? Far away, the horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory. I lied down on the ground. "This is so boring." "Stand up, who knows when an enemy will show up." He scolded pulling me up. "I don't know... I think I'd rather shrivel and die." I shrugged. "Plus I know I got a knight in shining helmet to save me." "I mean yeah of course you do." "Luke's like few meters away after all." I smirked. He turned to me with a frown and a 'not funny' face. Which made me laugh. Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by. I stood up and Percy pulled me behind him as he raised his shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating. On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark. "Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed. Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better. They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run and leave Percy. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin with no more than 9 inch dagger and Percy Jackson. I managed to sidestep the first kid's swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur. They surrounded me and Percy, while Clarisse thrust at us with her spear. Percy's shield deflected the point. My hair stood on end. "Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric." Percy groaned and I pulled him back. Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt. They could've kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled but he had a sword pointed at his throat. "Give her a haircut," Clarisse said. "Grab her hair." I managed to get to my feet. I raised my dagger, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now my arm numb. "Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared." "The flag is that way, let her go!" Percy told her. "Yeah," one of her siblings said. "But see, we don't care about the flag. We care about a guys who made our cabin look stupid." "You do that without my help," I told them. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. Someone took a hold of Percy so the sword was no longer pointed at him. Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise arm, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-ke-babbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut. Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time. "No maiming," I managed to say. "Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege." "Y/N!! I will kill you all!!" He was thrashing around. "Let her go! She can't swim!!" "It's fun seeing your girlfriend suffer ain't it?" Clarisse laughed. The guy finally pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash. They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. I was sinking. I couldn't breathe. The water was pulling me for what felt like 10 meters deep. Blood were coming out at every wound I had. I was loosing consciousness. Help me. Please... -With Percy- Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get you, but you weren't there. "Hey, she's missing?" One of the cabinmate said. "What? It's like 3 meters deep. She's just there." Clarisse scoffed. "I's telling you she's can't swim! Water pulls her down! I will kill you if she doesn't survive!" Percy managed to get power from somewhere and got out of the hold. He knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water. Then he jumped down. Hoping to see you somewhere. Muttering your name over and over in hopes to catch you. Save us He heard from his right. When he turned he finally saw you at the bottom. He swam with all could and got a hold of you. To haul you up. Finally surfacing, Percy panted and laid you of the ground. Pumping your chest. When the water finally came out of your mouth. Percy turned to glare at the people. Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. He slammed one in the face with his shield and used his sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, he caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig. "Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!" She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacked her between the eyes with his sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek. -Back to you- Coughing myself awake. Water came out of my mouth. "Percy..." I called. He turned so fast that I was surprised his neck didn't snap. "Y/N!" He ran to me and pulled me in a hug. I couldn't move, I felt tired and weak. "I want to sleep." I could feel my wounds stinging. Cold air hitting it. I felt sore despite barely moving. Then I heard yelling, elated screams, we both turned and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse. "A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick." They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the horn. The game was over. We'd won. Percy carried me still with an angry expression and tense body. I wanted to reassure him but I knew it wouldn't work. Luke looked over and saw us. I could see his sudden shift of emotion. He wanted to approach but he was surrounded by every cabin. We then heard Annabeth's voice, right next to us in the creek, said, "Not bad, hero." I wanted to turn to see her but I couldn't. I could barely keep my eyes open. "Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head. She was now in front of us. I felt Percy tense up once more. "You set us up, You put us here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out." Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan." "Because of you, Y/N is like this." The venom in his voice were obvious. "I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but..." She shrugged. "You didn't need help." "I didn't. But Y/N did! And what did you do?! She could've died!" Percy was shaking. I could feel it. "Calm..." I managed to whimper. "What's that?" Annabeth pointed at Percy's neck. "A sword cut, obviously." "No. It was a sword cut. Look at it." The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared. "I—I don't get it," Percy said. Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at our feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy." "What—" "Just do it." He came out of the creek and immediately I could feel myself better. Percy almost fell over, but I managed to hold him. "I got you." I panted. "Oh, Styx," she cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want... I assumed it would be Zeus... ." Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest. The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!" Annabeth drew her sword. I drew my dagger and pushed Percy behind me. There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers. It was looking straight at me. Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, Y/N, run!" She tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as it hit me, I was pushed aside as Percy stumbled backward and its razor-sharp claws ripping through his armor, there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. "Stop that!!" I screamed and somehow managed to grab her. She turned to me sharply and stared me down. As if she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump me. It approached me and settled down at my feet, sitting down as if she was an obedient dog. She watched as I catch my breath. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet. By some miracle, I was still alive, and wasn't even hurt. I instantly turned to look uat Percy. His chest wet, and I knew it was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned him into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat. Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim. "Di immortales!" Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't... they're not supposed to... How did..." "Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp." Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone. Clarisse yelled, "It's all Y/N's fault! Y/N summoned it!" "Be quiet, child," Chiron told her. We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared. "You're wounded," Annabeth told Percy. "Quick, Percy, get in the water." "I'm okay." "No, you're not, Y/N get him to the water," she said. "Chiron, watch this." "No... She doesn't do well in water..." Percy choked. I carefully swung his arm around my shoulders and without thinking twice, I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around us. Instantly, I felt weak. I could feel the pulling me down. Some of the campers gasped. Percy who could barely stand few minutes ago got a hold of me. I could feel my consciousness loosing once again. "Look, I—I don't know why," Percy said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry... But I need to get out of here. Y/N---" But they weren't watching Percy's wounds heal. They were staring at something above our head. "Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um..." By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. "Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good." "It is determined," Chiron announced. All around us, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it. "My father?" Percy asked, completely bewildered. "Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earth shaker, Storm bringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God." Percy looked down at me. I wasn't sure what but I had the feeling it was somewhere along the lines, 'I am the reason you drown every time you step on water.' "You're claimed..." I managed to squeak. Percy stepped out of the water. "Congratulations." I smiled weakly.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

UwU Here's another chapter I am sorry for some holes in the story -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

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

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 7

(Y/n)'s  POV

The next few days I settle into a routine that feels almost normal if you don't count the fact that I am getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I take Ancient Greek with Annabeth, and we talk about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which is kind of weird. I discover that Annabeth is right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek isn't hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a few mornings, I can read a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something Percy and I are good at. Chiron tries to teach Percy archery, but the three of us find out pretty quickly that he isn't any good with a bow and arrow, but I find that I was pretty okay at it.

The only thing Percy and I excelled at is canoeing, and that isn't the kind of heroic skill people expect to see from the kids who had beaten the Minotaur.

I know the senior counselors are watching the two of us, trying to decide who our dad is, but they aren't having an easy time of it. Percy and I aren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I don't have Hepheastus's skill with metalwork or - gods forbid - Dionysus's with vine plants. Luke tells me and Percy one night that we might be children of Hermes, a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling that he is just trying to make us feel better. He didn't know what to make of us either.

One day, I am out by the canoe lake, just sitting on the dock, when I look over my shoulder to see Annabeth walking down the dock. She silently sits down beside me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Annabeth wonders and I gather my thoughts before speaking.

"What if I'm not good at anything? What happens if I never get claimed?" I look over, my sea-green eyes meeting Annabeth's stormy-gray eyes.

Annabeth's gaze is slightly sympathetic and when she answers, her response doesn't really make me feel better. "You'd stay in the Hermes cabin."

I nod before gazing down the calm water of the lake again.

. . .

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I have my first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathers in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We start with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

I can't feel a blade that feels right in my hands. Either they are too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tries his best to fix me up, but he agrees that none of the practice blades seem to work for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth and Chiron standing at the entrance of the arena.

We move to duel in pairs and Luke announces that he would be my partner, and Percy would have an older camper since it's our first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers tells me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

I face Luke, an uneasy expression on my face and he shoots me a reassuring smile.

3rd Person POV

Annabeth and Chiron watch (Y/n) and Luke's demonstration, and even Chiron is slightly interested as he watches (Y/n).

Luke thrusts his sword forward and (Y/n) instinctively sidesteps, and Luke, expecting to hit (Y/n)'s shield, stumbles forward.

Luke's eyes narrow and he presses her with more force.

(Y/n) steps forward and tries a thrust of her own and Luke deflects it easily.

The two's blades clash over and over again for a minute or so when the sword in (Y/n)'s hand grows heavy; the balance not quite right.

She tries the disarming maneuver that Luke had been talking about earlier.

(Y/n)'s blade hits the base of Luke's and she twists, putting her whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang!

Luke's sword rattles against the stone; (Y/n)'s blade is an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers are silent.

(Y/n) lowers her sword. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

For a moment, Luke is too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" his scarred face breaks into a grin. "By the gods, (Y/n), why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there is only a little bit of sparring before Luke hits the hilt of (Y/n)'s sword and sends it skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, someone in the audience says, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wipes the sweat off his brow, appraising (Y/n) with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he says. "But I wonder what (Y/n) could do with a balanced sword. . ."

. . .

Friday night, after dinner, there is a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it's time for capture the flag.

When the plates are cleared away, the conch horn sounds, and all the campers stand at their tables.

Campers yell and cheer as Annabeth and two of her siblings run into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It is about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies run in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a blood spear and a boar's head.

Percy turns to Luke and yells over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" (Y/n) asks curiously.

"Not always," he answers. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do - repaint the flag?" Percy asks.

He grins. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

Luke fives Percy a sly look, as if he knows something the other two don't. The scar on his face makes Luke look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams are announced. Athena had allied with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Percy'd seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters he wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammers his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announces. "You all know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spreads his hand and the tables are suddenly coated in metal equipment: helmets, bronze swords, speaks, oxhide shields covered in metal.

"Whoa!" Percy says. "We're supposed to use these?"

Luke looks at him as if he's crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here — Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol, (Y/n), you're with me, I want to see what you can do with that sword."

Luke hands (Y/n) a circular shield and she straps it onto her arm. She tests the weight of the shield and is satisfied with the fact that it's not too light or too heavy.

Annabeth yells, "Blue Team, forward!"

The Blue Team cheers and shakes their swords and follows her down the path to the south side of the woods. The Red Team yells taunts at them as they head off to the north.

Percy manages to catch up to Annabeth, (Y/n) at his heels, without Percy tripping over his heavy equipment.

"Hey," Percy says; Annabeth keeps marching. "So what's the plan?" he asks. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Annabeth's hand drifts towards her pocket, as if afraid he'd taken something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she tells Percy. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. (Y/n), come with me."

With a blink, the two girls had ran forward, leaving Percy in the dust. . . .

Once they're in positions, a conch horn blows, and (Y/n), who Annabeth had left with Luke, sneaks forward.

She moves forward a few yards and instinctively raises her shield against an Ares camper. (Y/n) thrusts her sword and the Ares camper sidesteps. Changing her momentum, (Y/n) does a spin, hitting the Ares camper in the stomach with her shield; the camper falls to the ground.

Feeling more confident in herself, (Y/n) slinks into the shadows, her shield and sword low as not to glow from any lights nearby.

(Y/n) makes it across the boundary into enemy territory and sneaks forward a few more yards until she hears Clarisse's voice, "Give him a haircut. Grab his hair."

(Y/n) changes direction, breaking into a run and then bursting from the line of trees.

The five Ares campers turn on her and three advance, Clarisse and another continuing to beat on Percy.

(Y/n) swings the flat of her sword and hits the first guy's head and he crumples to the ground.

Two other guys come at her and she slams her shield into one's face and uses her sword to shave off the horsehair plume on his helmet.

(Y/n) steps into the water and pulls her twin to his feet, feeling as though she'd eaten some of her mother's double espresso beans.

Clarisse and the fourth guy advance and the guy swing his sword, catching (Y/n)'s shield arm and leaving a huge cut, from her wrist to elbow.

Percy catches Clarisse's electric spear with the edge of his shield and sword and snaps it like a twig.

"Ah!" she yells. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacks her between the eyes with his sword-but and sends her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then the twins hear yelling, elated screams, and see Luke raising towards the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He is flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks get up and Clarisse mutters a dazed curse.

"A trick!" Clarisse screams. "It was a trick."

The Ares kids stagger after Luke, but it's too late. Everyone converges on the creek as Luke runs across into friendly territory. The Blue team explodes into cheers and the red banner shimmers and turns to silver. The boar and spear are replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven. Everyone on the Blue Team picks up Luke and starts carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron canters out from the woods and blows the conch horn.

(Y/n)'s POV

The game was over. We'd won.

Percy and I are about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, says, "Not bad, hero."

I look, an eyebrow quirked, but Annabeth isn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asks. The air shimmers, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy says, looking slightly angry. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugs, "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get my pulverized," Percy retorts.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to step in . . ." she shrugs. "You didn't need help."

Then she notices my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"It's a sword cut," I respond. "Where do you think it came from?"

"No. It was a sword cut," Annabeth says. "Look at it."

I look down. The blood is gone; where the huge cut had been, there is a long white scratch, and even that is fading. As I watch, it turns into a small scar and disappears.

"I - I don't get it," I stutter.

Annabeth is thinking hard. I can almost see the gears turning. She looks down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and says, "Step out of the water, (Y/n)."

"What -" I question.

"Just do it."

I step out of the creek and immediately feel bone tired. I almost fall over but Annabeth steadies me.

"Oh, Styx," she curses. "This is not god. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus . . ."

Before I can ask what she means, I hear a canine grows.

A howl rips through the forest.

The campers' cheering dies instantly. Chiron shots something in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth draws her sword.

There on the rocks, just above us is a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

And it's looking right at me.

Nobody moves except Annabeth, who yells, "(Y/n), run!"

She tries to step in front of me, but the hound is too fast. It leaps over her - an enormous shadow with teeth - and just as it hits me, as I stumble backward and feel its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor.

There is a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after another; from the hound's sprouts a cluster of arrows.

The monster falls dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I am alive. I don't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor and sway a little. My chest feels warm and wet, and I know I am badly cut. Another second and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of deli meat.

Chiron trots up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says softly. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron murmurs. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke comes over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yells, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summons it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron tells her.

We watch the body of the hellhound melts into the shadow, soaking into the ground as it disappears.

"You're wounded," Annabeth tells me. "Quick, (Y/n), get in the water."

I'm too tired to argue and I step back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I fell better; I fell the cuts on my chest closing up.

Some of the campers gasp.

"Look, I - I don't know why," I say, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry . . ."

But they aren't watching my wounds heal, they're staring up at something above mine and Percy's heads.

"(Y/n), Percy," Annabeth says, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I look up, the sign is already fading, but I can still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming.

A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmurs. "This is really not good."

All around me, campers start kneeling, even Ares cabin, though they don't look happy about it.

"Our father?" Percy asks, looking completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," says Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, Son, and Daughter of the Sea God."

Word Count: 2641 words

[theravennest]

Nearly all the mains in “The Blooms at Ruyi Pavillion” are bisexual. I said it, so what?

My Bisexual Agenda is in high gear, y’all.

I’m hard binging the show and I’m on ep 35 now. I know they absolutely didn’t mean it this way but the main female character, Rong, gives me major poly bi vibes and I’m losing my mind over it.

Exhibit A: She sits like this.

A whole bisexual.

Exhibit B: She likes to cross-dress.

Her fit on the left with the snowy white over layer, the silver design work, and the brilliant red under layer? Immaculate.

Exhibit C: A day at the brothel.

Was it for an information gathering mission? Yes. Was it still fruity af? Also, yes.

Exhibit D: This Choice.

After Rong marries Prince Su as his concubine/consort (notably not as his First Wife), her “rival” Princess Xihe tries to weasel her way into their home in hopes of marrying Prince Su as his First Wife instead. She tries a bunch of tricks to get Prince Su to fall for her including playing up an injury to make him stay by her bedside.

So, what does our totally-not-bi female lead do?

She decides to slot herself into all of Princess Xihe’s romance entrapment plots and perform them with her.

What is that look, Prince Su????? The OT3 potential is real, y’all...

---

Except it’s not Prince Su who stays, it’s...Rong!

Bonus shot of Prince Su listening outside while Princess Xihe has a tantrum over not sleeping with him but with his wife instead:

I swear for god, Prince Su spends this whole sequence trying to wingman his own wife into bed with another woman.

Exhibit E: This. Whole. Exchange. Like seriously wtf?!

What in the holy???? This. Was. So. Bi-conic? For no reason, like???

Also why is she me when I see a cute girl I like crushing on a cute guy that I also like?

Exhibit F: Her Primary Emotional Arc

Now, let’s set aside the 2nd ML since she’s not romantically interested in him (and he is complete murdering, manipulating trash anyway so fuck him).

Rong’s biggest emotional arc for a huge part of the show is her being torn between loyalties to her sexy prince and her equally sexy mentor.

Prince Su

A man who’s kind, disciplined, too goofy for his own good, loyal to a fault, reckless with his life cuz he has pretty extreme low self esteem after he’s been told all his life he’s a jinx that curses everyone around him with bad luck.

Madam Ruyi

A self-made businesswoman who built a wildly successful jewelry emporium that acts as the front for a covert spy / blackmail-for-hire agency. So impressive, actually. She’s so morally gray she’ll extort you with implied threats against your chronically sick son while also planning to provide all the ingredients for the kid’s cure later on.

Both are resident badasses, btw:

Turns out Rong has the same type as me: Hot and Deadly.

---

Quick aside: let’s be honest...the Rong-Ruyi relationship is mentor-mentee with some older sister/aunt energy. I get that. I do. Buuuuuut...I also get big, fat lesbian vibes from Madam Ruyi and I have a weakness for older women so I’ll die on this hill.

Anyway, Madam Ruyi wants to leave literally all of her worldly assets to Rong and made her the spiritual successor of the jewelry business and its metalwork knowledge. While Rong doesn’t know it at the time, Ruyi probably also wants to make her the successor to her spy agency. She just never got the chance to ease Rong into that side of things.

Now at the midway mark of the show, Rong has the choice to either marry Prince Su in peaceful bliss or avenge her mentor because she mistakenly believes he killed her master. 

I won’t get into all of the plot of this though I do have Thoughts. IMO, it makes a kind of sense as Rong’s been resisting falling for Prince Su up to this point due to her doom-filled prophetic dreams. But it doesn’t make sense that she didn’t at least try to talk to him first after what they’ve been through and I’m mad at the writer about it but whatever I digress...

The long and short of it is Rong has to choose between her years-long love for her mentor and the newfound love building for the prince. Guess what? She chooses her mentor and tries to stab the prince on their wedding night. 😬

While this is wrong for various reasons both in the story and because of poor plotting/characterization, it opened the door for my bi ass to highkey ship Rong-Ruyi and it gave a lot of unexpected angst for the Rong-Su ship, which I also enjoy. 

Let me tell y’all, I walked right on through that door into my own fantasy world where this show is 10x gayer than it is irl.

Speaking of...

Prince Su and his best friend Baiqi are FWB cuz Baiqi is also a bisexual, fight me.

What was even the point of this moment?

*yoink*

Also, there is this iconic comforting moment:

Followed by this other bit of tenderness:

Sometimes when the dad you’ve hated for so many years tries to kill you but then later decides to spare you when he blows himself up leaving you all fucked up and confused, the only solace you can find is in the arms of your best friend-boss and/or your girlfriend.

Me too, Baiqi. Me too.

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!master x reader

Chapter 3: New Earth

Summary: New earth, new adventures, but the return of a dreaded old face. You’d been acting strange all day, and despite the distracting wonder of the mysterious cures the sisters of plenitude were concocting, the Master had most definitely noticed. But when all is revealed in the hospital, things go from curious to complicated- especially when the sick break free, and the root of all the days problems decides she wants to try the masters body on for size.

Notes: At last! Another remaster! This time not a Matt but a David episode: loathed by some, but a guilty pleasure of mine! I mentioned wanting to write this fic  while ago, and i finally got around to it on the eve of Doctor Who day! I hope you all enjoy!

As usual, this fic is dedicated to my dearly beloved queen @plethora-of-imagines​. My watchalong companion, fellow soft dom lover, most trusted confident, and the most hat obsessed girl i’ve ever met. I hope it lives up to the hype!

They were surrounding you in droves. 

The sick. The diseased. The nearly dead. 

The filthy pipe covered walls of the hospital basement flying past your field of vision as you desperately raced towards salvation.

Or at least, the woman who was currently controlling your body raced.

Cassandra's presence in your head was agony- not just for the fact the woman was compressing you to death, but because she was so damn judgemental. In all of your adventures in time and space you’d never met someone so cruel, so self absorbed. And you travelled with the Master of all people, for crying out loud. You suspected the only reason you were being saved was because she was too self preserving to let herself, and by extension your body, go to waste. At least she had the common sense to keep up her speed, the Masters pace just in front of you as you bypassed the closing passageways of the intensive care unit and headed towards the room where she'd been hiding all this time.

“You’d better know where we’re going!”

The Master, for lack of a better term, was fucking pissed to say the least. The revelation that you weren't truly yourself was far more shocking than the revelation of the human farm the Sisters of Plenitude were hiding in their basement. He’d first accused the matron, who denied having any part in the ‘fuckery with your brain’, but it soon became clear who exactly had decided to hitch a ride inside your delicate human brain. The, as the Doctor's pet had once referred to her as, bitchy trampoline. You supposed he was also furious that she’d kissed him. You yourself were certainly boiling with anger at that fact. At least it was still your mouth, you reasoned.

“Keep a lid on it, handsome! This has been my terf much longer than its been yours!”

She knew the way well, the distance between yourself and the following lab grown humans strengthening as your feet lead you towards the dingy basement where your mind had been overtaken. Her assistant chip was long gone now, the boy probably dead from the swarming humans. All that was left was you, Cassandra, and the furious Master. 

The pair of you skidded around a plethora of corners, the basement of the hospital built not unlike the elaborate mazes the Master would construct within the walls of the TARDIS. You very much wished to be safe in your home instead of running from manic nuns and the almost living dead, but you knew that travelling through time and space meant a girl couldn’t be picky. If only Cassandra also shared the sentiment

"THROUGH HERE!"

You still weren't used to the ridiculously posh accent coming from your mouth, her shrill yell guiding the timelord to the small door that lead to her chambers.

The Master huffed, following your guide as you crawled through the square metal hatch. You heard the door slam and latch shut soon after, the chambers flying past as the far entrance arrived into view. With a heave the hinges opened, Cassandra letting out another scream as the diseased loomed large in the doorway. The door slammed shut as she pressed your back against the rusting metal and pulled down the lock, her eyes meeting the deadly glare of the Master in the middle of the room.

"My god, we're trapped in here! What are we going to do?!"

The Master narrowed his eyes, leering at the woman with a cast iron gaze that made you even shiver.

"Get out. I want her back. Now."

Cassandra rolled your eyes, the woman matching the Masters stance. He let out a low growl, the Master stepping forward with gritted teeth.

"I know you've met the doctor, but you've never dealt with someone like me. So let me be quite plain: I'm not going to play your stupid little human games, Cassandra. I want Y/N back, and I want her back now."

"God, you timelords are all the same, so demanding! You do know it's just a title, don't you darling?"

The Master scoffed, pure fury evident in his sneering grin. Cassandra took a step back, arms dropping from their fold as he took a step closer. His presence was intimidating to say the least.

"This plan of yours, it had potential. A psychograft- I must admit, rudimentary but creative."

It was Cassandra's turn to scoff now. The pair of them practically circling each other, the Master watching her turn her back as the last human stepped towards the ruined remains of her rusted frame. The Master stood besides the psychograft, the TCE now in his grip as he gestured with the small device squarely at the machine.

"Banned on every civilised planet, I can relate. But you know why they were banned, Cassandra? They were sloppy, completely unstable."

"Another thing you can relate to?"

"You're compressing my Y/N to death!"

Cassandra sighed, venom on her tongue as she kissed your teeth, scrunching her nose in disdain. Your fingers carefully traced over the metalwork of her frame, the jarred brain she once used now beginning to wither as the suspension fluid leaked and pooled out onto the rank basement floor. 

"And where do you suppose I go, hmm? My skin is long dead." Cassandra snapped, head whipping around to glare at the man in the purple coat. She smirked cockilly, tilting your head.

"You ought to play softer with your toys, time boy. This very sore little human of yours is my one ticket out of this shit hole"

"I'm afraid you'll have to deboard your vessel, Cassandra. You can float in the air- like dust, or a disgustingly persistent mosquito. Quite on brand, for you-"

"Very funny-"

"But your self preservation, Cassandra, is nothing but a big, fat you problem. That body you're in is precious to me and I'm not letting you get even a scratch on her."

Cassandra glowered, clenching her teeth as the Master gripped the TCE tight in his palm. She stared at him, lips quivering as she planned her next rebuttal. The Master held his nerve, unable to help the tightening of his chest as he thought of you, stuck inside your own body. He knew the feeling of being kept from your own being all too well from his little stint in utopia. Cassandra finally relented as the Master slowly raised the TCE to aim at her head.

"Give. Y/N. Back."

Cassandra carefully stood, slowly stepping towards the Master as he brandished his weapon in his hand. She teasingly began to twist the charm on the necklace around your throat, holding the pendant between her fingers. The Masters glare strengthened, eyes focused on the jewellery in her grasp. 

"You know, once you were dead and this place far behind me, I was planning on dumping the meat and pawning the bling as soon as I could. But you, Master, are too stubborn for your own good."

The Masters expression reeked of confusion, his head tilting to the side as Cassandra squared off her shoulders. The time lord took this as a threat, tightening his hold on the TCE as he watched her every move. You could see it in his eyes- Thousands of possibilities processing at once, the gears of his mind shrieking as they grinded through his manic yet methodical systems of thought.

"You want her back? You asked for it."

The tremendous pressure on your head suddenly lifted in a whirlwind of overstimulation. Every sound screamed in your ears, the basement around you caught in a surge of darkness as your hazed vision was stolen from you. A loud ringing persisted, if only for a few moments, the muted and muffled existence you'd sat within ripped from under your feet. Your knees weakly buckled, shoulders slumping as you felt the ground connect between your feet. You let out a gasp for air, eyes scrunching shut as you shook your head. The basement slowly came back into vision, your head recovering from the imprisonment with a low groan from your throat and a palm to the side of your skull.

"Ow, jesus christ, my fucking head. Where did she go?"

You focused your vision on the man in front of you. The Masters back was turned towards you, the timelord almost bent in half. He didn't respond, body oddly still as you dared to take a step forward. You had a dreadful suspicion about where she'd run off to after leaving your head.

"Master?..."

"Dear lord, I'm a bad boy now!"

No way. No fucking way.

Cassandra turned around with a flourish, hands upon the Masters chest as she let out an excitable giggle. His eyes sat wide, a half smile upon his face as she familiarised herself with her new body. She stumbled on her feet like a newborn deer, inspecting her fingers and rocking on her toes as she rubbed at her chin. The presence of a beard under her fingertips seemingly blowing the woman's mind. You didn't know whether to laugh at her antics or cry at the problem that just emerged before you.

"I've never been a bad boy before! Bad girl, for sure, but this?! Isn't he just delicious!"

His usual northern tone was long gone, a fact that hurt much more than it should. Cassandra couldn't stop giggling to herself, her hands playing over his cheeks as he hurriedly raced towards the cracked mirror placed upon the wall. She gasped loudly, rippling with excitement as her hands roamed over the Masters body: Fluffing his hair, synching his waist, popping the top button on his shirt. Seemingly doing everything she could to fill you with jealous rage.

"Are you about done?"

The Master flapped his hand in your direction, shushing you as she childishly jumped up and down on the spot. You folded your arms, biting your tongue as she preened and primped in the mirror, pushing his face within her hands and posing with narcissistic delight. You'd seen the Master do this himself, on occasion. But this was a completely different beast- especially since you didn't enjoy where her hands were seemingly wandering to

"Oh hush, darling. I'm just having a little fun with all these new… graciously extensive parts- these have definitely been well worn in, the saucy little thing. I'm quite the handsome devil now, aren't I?"

You growled, nose scrunching as she hummed to herself, smoothing down his purple tweed collar as she began to prance and strut around the room. She lept over various apparatus and rubble, spinning and watching the purple material of his coat fly like a skirt behind her. Cassandra let out a satisfied cackle, sighing with up most content. Your rage was furiously simmering within your chest.

"He's quite the riot, isn't he? He's so feisty, I love it. So edgy, so... Naughty! He has lots of filthy thoughts about you in here, oh the pictures i could paint for you."

"Get out of my- the Master now!"

Cassandra cackled, leering in towards you with a torturous grin. You'd feel rather flustered if it weren't for the fact this wasn't the Masters doing. Cassandra held her hands to his chest, stalking forward as you desperately clung to your stoicism. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching you crack.

"THE Master? Or were you about to say MY Master? You forget darling- i've been inside your head. You want this samba in his chest to only beat for you."

You rolled your eyes, leaning away as the Master giggled and leant in closer towards your face. If Cassandra weren't within the Masters body you most definitely would've punched her. But your growing level of rage meant that was a fact you would possibly be able to overlook.

"It's a shame, really. If it weren't for the fact he'd kill me on the spot, I think i'd like to keep him. He seems like a seasoned professional in showing a lady a good time, after all!"

You let out a scandalised squeak as Cassandra grabbed at your hips, causing herself to dissolve into stitches of laughter as you shoved at the Masters chest. A blush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks, your fists bunching together in furious resentment. 

You sighed loudly, narrowing your eyes as you glared at the woman currently possessing your time lord. She was well and truly pushing your limits at this point and you weren't sure how much of her shenanigans you could handle.

"It's so easy to tease you, darling! You know at first, i just thought it was a personal interest of yours. But he actually calls HIMSELF the Master!-"

"Cassandra-"

"How fabulously kinky! Lucky girl, you did find an exciting bedfellow. How you kept hold of him i'll eternally have no idea."

"ENOUGH!"

The timelord paused from playing with his hair, turning to look you up and down with widened eyes. Cassandra took in your heaving chest, the tightening of your jaw as you glared daggers into her forehead. She raised his eyebrows, raising his hands in mock surrender. You could feel the sarcasm dripping from her actions, which served to infuriate you even more so than before.

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

"We're stuck in the basement of a hospital in QUARANTINE, chased by INFECTED LAB GROWN HUMANS! All of which, by the way, is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! And you think the best use of ALL OUR TIME is to play a game of musical bodies and piss off the only person able to help you out?!"

Cassandra pouted childishly at your words. You let out a frustrated huff, causing her to almost recoil in shock.

"We're short on time and big on problems. The last thing I need is you making this situation any worse than it already is!"

A thick silence sat between the pair of you. It was almost a dare to see who would attempt to move first, Cassandra's lips pursed and quivering as if the sarcastic retort was planning itself behind the Master's teeth and upon the timelords tongue. Your determined stoicism was completely abandoned in favour of indulging in the buttons Cassandra had been desperate to push. At this point all you wanted was the Master- not the stuck up snob currently cursing you internally in several languages.

You wanted to be out of this hospital and back in the TARDIS, to lay together and laugh at how a crazy old human who didn't know when to die decided to prance around inside the pair of you for an hour or so. But you couldn't. Because that crazy old human was ridiculously persistent. You thought her and the Master could possibly get on if it weren't for the current predicament you'd found yourselves in.

It seemed Cassandra had finally found her argument. The Master stepped towards you, hands on his hips as he sneered up and down your body. You opened your mouth to speak, ready to smack down any argument she could possibly have against common sense and decency, until a loud crash suddenly broke the pair of you from your standoff.

"Please… Help us!"

The far door to the basement slammed open, the sound of metal ricocheting against the aging stone wall. The diseased clawed and clamoured, spilling into the dingy room with a surge of newfound freedom.

The Master let out a petrified scream, hands flinging to your shoulders as he yanked you forwards to act as his human shield. Cassandra cowered behind you, peeking over your shoulder in terror. You could most definitely slap that woman, you decided. Guilt be damned. He let out a shrill yowl of panic, jutting you forward towards the oncoming hoard.

"TAKE HER, SHE'S LESS VALUABLE THAN I AM!"

Yep. Guilt be most definitely damned.

"Cassandra we have to work together!" You pleaded, turning over your shoulder to face the terrified Master cowering behind you. 

"The Master would know what to do but since you won't leave his head you have to trust I know what he'd say!"

Cassandra whined, roughly pulling you backwards as she stepped away from humans that were slowly beginning to close in.

"And what would he say?!"

You assessed your options. The sick were surrounding you from most angles, your entrance still sealed from your previous escape. However, a possibility caught your eye.

A slender black ladder. Your way out.

You turned once more to the woman, confidence finding itself back in your stride.

"UP THERE!"

The Master screamed once more, heaving you forwards with a weak shove as he scrambled up the stone steps that just emerged behind him. You yelped, gathering your footing with haste as you saw the purple of his coat flail behind him.

“Out of my way! Pretty people don’t die first!”

You followed Cassandra's path, clambering through the remaining metalwork of her skin frame and heading towards the metal ladder that sat flush against the wall. The basement supposedly lead towards all manor of places within the hospital, this upward ascent leading you towards the hollow insides of an abandoned elevator shaft. You watched the timelord hesitantly grasp hold of the flaking and rusting rungs of the ladder, disgust evident on his features as he retched at every climb. You couldn't be dealing with any more of her antics today.

“WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!?”

“THIS LADDER IS FILTHY!”

“SO!?”

“I HOPE YOUR MASTER HAS HIS TETANUS SHOT!”

You shrieked in frustration as you shoved Cassandra further up the ladder, your wafer thin patience having been tested today by that woman more times than you ever thought you could possibly muster. Your time was very much running out, and getting a disease from a ladder was of more concern to the woman than obtaining every single disease on new earth. The audacity of that woman astounded you to a completely new degree.

“IT'S EITHER THAT OR PLAGUE!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME, I CANT COPE WITH ALL THIS PRESSURE!”

“FUCKING CLIMB, CASSANDRA!”

A metallic thunk erupted from the bottom of the ladder, the blistered fist of one of the lab grown humans clinging tight to the first rung of your escape. The flustered cry of Cassandra floated further up the length of the ladder, your stomach filling with pity as you watched the pained glances and heard the pleading cries of the sick. You only hoped you could get the Master back and figure out a way to help them.

“Please… help us!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll try, I promise!” you called in return, before turning to face the panicked clambering of the Cassandra possessed Master up to safety.

You could do this. If you were lucky, you reasoned. It was possible.

If you were truly lucky you could get your Master back, lift the quarantine, save the sick, and escape this dreaded hospital. Only four things. You could do this.

But first, you had to deal with Cassandra:

And judging by the fact she was still screaming, several rungs up the ladder, you needed all the luck you could possibly get.