#i have a hug massive american woke brain

[overleftdown]

worst takes: farleigh edition

being a despicable horrible hater is my full time responsibility and thats why i relate to farleigh start.

[woopsydaisydney]

“Legend Weavers”

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A/N: This drabble is written with my own Original Characters. I hope to one day write a full story with these characters and their world. I figured a prompt challenge would be a good way to introduce them to readers.

Word Count: 2,050

Approx. Reading Time: ~8 minutes.

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Drew’s head was spinning after she left the council hall. Night had fallen in the time it had taken for her world to turn itself upside down.

Even after it had been explained to her- she still couldn’t believe it. She had died 25 years ago? And now she was back, with a new life and no memories of her old one, and no one knew how or why?

Ra couldn’t stop staring at her like she was a ghost. 

Bianca would barely give her room to breathe. The freckled girl had stayed glued to Drew’s hip no matter how hard she tried to shake her.

And Eros. Eros wouldn’t even look at her. Wouldn’t speak to her. He left the room not long after her arrival at the castle headquarters. She didn’t know why but a part of her soul ached because of this. The part of her soul that remembered their names and faces even when her mind couldn’t recall ever knowing these friends.

God, how she wished she could remember. Drew tried explaining to Mother Nature’s council that she was just ordinary. She explained that she lived an ordinary life up until the tornado swept her and her van off the road. She explained the shock she felt at having the breath squeezed out of her by a stranger- Bianca- hugging her when she regained consciousness. 

They were shocked to learn that she basically underwent a total system reset in the past 25 years. The day she “died” on the battlefield in their world was the day she was found as a newborn on a street corner in Pennsylvania. They were almost as shocked to learn this as Drew was to learn that these people- these gods and spirits and legends- never aged at all.

“What do you mean your 354th birthday was three months ago?!” Drew had half shouted at Bianca as the taller blonde girl was trying to make small talk.

Bianca had paused for a long moment. She continued in her borderline-annoyed French accent, “You know, if you’re going to freak out about every little thing for a whole ass second time, this is going to get really taxing.”

That was another thing. Everything was apparently happening to Drew for a “second time”. The people around her kept alluding to the “first time she had tried this” or the “first time she had done that”. She wouldn’t believe a word of what they were saying if it weren’t for the annoying nagging feeling of her own memories trying to resurface.

She walked outside to clear her mind.

The lights of a town a few miles down the hill twinkled along with the stars. Ra had told her about how the castle was cloaked from view of any passerby. The humans just saw a bunch of uninteresting ruins. Drew found herself wondering, if this were to continue to be her life as apparently it was before, would it be worth it to be unseen by the world?

She readjusted her long black ponytail as she let out an exasperated sigh. The soft breeze tried to soothe her as it danced across her dark skin.

A sniffling sound above startled her as she whipped around.

It was Eros sitting on the roof of one of the castle’s dormers. Drew squinted for a moment in the low light. His back was to her and massive feathered wings were curled up over his shoulders and head. His shoulders were slightly shaking.

She straightened her bulky cargo jacket and found an easy enough way to climb up. The old brick was strong under her hands and sneakers and she easily found handholds. In no time at all, she was sitting next to the winged man on the shingles.

“Are you crying?” Drew asked.

“Please,” his voice cracked against the word, “Don’t acknowledge it.”

“Yeesh, okay…” her own voice trailed off.

They sat like that for a while. Eros still crying and her staring off into the darkening countryside. The stars were very visible here and she could make out the faint outline of the milky way. Drew took the time to just sit and take in the view while she tried to process the day’s events.

After a few minutes, she felt eyes on her.

Eros was watching her. Her dark brown eyes met his blue ones and that little part of her soul ached again. She forced herself to look away.

“We were close,” Drew said. It wasn’t a question.

Eros nodded in her peripheral. She noticed his hand moved briefly to take hers, but stopped short.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember,” She said, though she wasn’t sure that was 100% true. Some part of her remembered him, she was sure.

“I can tell you. About how things were before,” His hopeful voice carried an accent that Drew couldn’t quite place. Greek maybe?

Drew nodded, accepting his offer.

They sat for hours as Eros told her about her previous life. In some ways it was quite similar to her current life. 

She was adopted as a child. Wanted to go to law school. Took a gap year in college to travel- that’s when the tornado swept her away both times. 

Bianca was her first friend because Bianca’s job as a Mythology Keeper for legends and spirits required her to keep in close contact. Eros was the second friend Drew had met in their world. They had fought sand demons in Egypt together not two hours after Drew’s transformation. Eros’ older brother, Ra, the king of all legends, had been wary of Drew at first but they too had grown to be friends.

The legend of chaos and war, Morrigan, had waged war against Mother Nature. The threat brought together legends from around the world. Drew’s group of friends specifically were vital in the war due to their proximity to Ra. They trained and fought together.

Drew suspected that Eros was leaving certain things out. Occasionally he would stutter and pause before taking up the story again in a different place. Nevertheless, she was enraptured by the tale of her adventures. She had fought Morrigan one on one multiple times. She was the one who had discovered Morrigan’s lair. She was quite the fighter, Eros emphasized, and scared the daylights out of anyone who tried to spar with her in training.

She had powers- like the rest of the legends. Strength and mastery over the wind. They had been trying to decipher which legend she was chosen to embody. She was Native American so they had decided to research Native legends. But then she died.

The story cut off suddenly and a new wave of tears sprung up in Eros’ eyes. His hand flew to his mouth and he looked away from Drew for the first time in hours.

Instinctually, her hand reached up to stroke the bend in Eros’ wing. Subconsciously or not, he leaned into the touch.

“You used to do that to comfort me,” he said around his hand.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest,” she whispered, “I mean, I just found out I had another life- and powers! You already told me more than I was hoping to learn.”

“N-no but I have to tell,” Eros half sobbed, “You need to understand. The guilt and sorrow I’ve felt for the past 25 years. I don’t age but my heart is… s-so heavy with those years.”

Drew removed her hand, and patiently waited for him to continue.

“It was me. You died… because of me,” he looked back at her. A fear in his eyes.

“What?” Drew’s brain tried again to process.

“I had died first. In the battle in the Himalayas,” Eros seemed in a trance as he spoke. Like he could no longer stop the words from coming out. Like he had kept this inside for so long that nothing could stop it from spilling over.

“Morrigan had killed me. I remember seeing the Olympians after I died. My mother and father. Then they told me it wasn’t my time and I came crashing back.” Eros could barely form the words around the cries trying to come out of his throat, but he forced his way forward in the story.

“When I woke up… there was a scar in my side from the healed wound. Ra was sobbing and holding me. I looked over and… and…” 

Drew’s heart was hammering in her chest, eyes wide. A memory sparked in her mind. Morrigan’s sword piercing Eros’ side. Eros falling and not getting up. Then some time later, Drew shaking hands with Morrigan. Then… nothing.

Eros continued, “You were limp in Bianca’s arms. She was yelling at you. Calling you stupid but she was crying. Ra told me he was sorry, he couldn’t stop you.”

Eros stopped, tears still flowing. He stared into Drew’s eyes now with an intensity that broke her heart.

“What happened?” She asked breathlessly after a moment of silence.

“You saved me, Drew. Morrigan offered you a… a deal. You gave your life for mine. I tried to crawl to your body but I was still weak and Ra wouldn’t let go of me. You disappeared before I could reach you…”

“But-” Drew stuttered, “But I’m alive. I didn’t die.”

“Didn’t you?” Eros said.

His hand, after being held back for so long, grasped Drew’s. His other hand cupped her face.

“Drew, I will forever be grateful for your sacrifice. Even if you can’t remember it.”

Drew must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights. 

“Why didn’t Morrigan just kill me?” She asked, desperate, “Why did she send me back as a baby? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“I don’t know- I don’t know,” Eros said, “But even as horrible as she is, I’m grateful for her mercy.”

Drew grabbed him into as tight of a hug as she could manage. He returned it tenfold, his powerful wings coming up to wrap around them as well. Only then did she allow herself to start crying. Everything that had been revealed to her that day, and only then was she crying. She mourned the life she had forgotten and the human life she was just taken from. She mourned Eros, but hugging his chubby frame grounded her, reminding her that he was right there. She was angry at Morrigan. No. Furious. Hell, she was even angry at Mother Nature. It was her war. Why should they be the ones to fight it?

After a while they peeled themselves out of the hug. They were both cried out and exhausted as the moon now shone overhead. Eros helped Drew down from the dormer and they walked back inside. Eros walked her to the room she shared with Bianca. The feeling of deja vu as they walked the halls was almost overwhelming.

Bianca opened the door when they arrived.

“I knew you were with her, Eros, but let’s not encourage her to ignore curfew like you do,” Bianca scolded before turning to Drew, “Come in, I have some pajamas for you.”

Drew nodded to her and Bianca walked back inside.

“Ra will be expecting me back in our room,” Eros said, moving to leave.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” Drew stopped him.

“Of course,” He said.

“Who were you to me?”

Eros paused, thinking, as they looked at each other. She noticed he had a sprinkle of freckles across his nose. Not as many as Bianca who was absolutely covered head to toe. Another memory popped into her mind and she knew that he had more freckles in the spot on his back between his wings.

“You know, that’s actually hard to say. I’m not… really sure,” Eros said, turning slightly red.

“Why?”

“We never talked about it.”

And with that, Eros left down the hall with a wink. Drew took a note of the gesture’s familiarity as she went inside the room. A part of her suspected he might be lying but she couldn’t think of a reason for him to do that... right?

Tonight she would sleep. And tomorrow… Dammit, tomorrow she would figure out how to win this war and regain the memories of her past life.

No one would stand in her way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing Prompts:

@promptsforthestrugglingauthor : #1363

“Are you crying?”

“Please,” their voice cracked against the word. “Don’t acknowledge it.”

@givethispromptatry :

“Who were you to me?”

“You know, that’s actually hard to say. I’m not really sure.”

“Why?”

“We never talked about it.”

[jayxscripta]

The Mahaigner - Chapter Six

Aaaand this is where things really start cooking. And by that I mean there are so many characters and unresolved plot points to pick up from the films, and characters I decided to create and add in for some more flavor, because otherwise this would be too easy, and--

Madeline woke with a deep ache resonating throughout her bones, throbbing wrists, and a rhythmic pounding in her head. She had blacked out—she knew that much—but her memory failed to inform her why. It was probably a miracle she had even woken up at all.

She pried open her eyes, trying to blink away the blurriness. She was lying on her side, against something cold and hard and probably metal. She tried to move her hand to push the hair away from her face, but the motion was cut short with a clink. Surprised, she looked down to her wrists. Handcuffs. Protruding blue veins were stark against alabaster skin. These must be the power draining cuffs Stark had threatened her with.

She finally lifted her head, trying to blink away the blurriness, when a familiar voice jolted her from her stupor. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

“Perfect, actually,” she groaned, forcing herself up into a sitting position. The bench was unforgiving and indeed made of metal, as was the rest of the room. Loki sat across from her, the picture of indifference. They were moving. She was in an armored truck. She looked around, panic creeping in when she realized that, for the first time in years, Astrid wasn’t with her. “What happened? Where’s Astrid?”

“I believe they took her as well.” He sounded sympathetic. “Are you alright?”

Madeline’s first instinct was to respond sarcastically, but after the conversation she had overheard between the two brothers, she couldn’t bring herself to. Loki was trying, and her guilt begged that she give him the benefit of the doubt. So instead, she nodded, somewhat numbly. “I’m not dead yet. But never mind that—” she winced, “—how long have we been in here?”

“Several hours. After the incident, one of the officers called the General. The Vision tried to stall for time, but even with his help Stark couldn’t hide hundreds of Asgardians and the Hulk. Or the quinjet that crashed through the hangar roof.”

“He took everyone?” she asked, confused and disbelieving. “Even Strange?”

Where could the General possibly hide all of them? Did he have some sort of massive, secret bunker just to stash arrested super powered people?

“I don’t know where the other Asgardians were taken. Banner is in government custody, and you and I the same, as war criminals. Stark argued for Thor’s immunity. When we were arrested, the doctor was still unconscious.”

She nodded, numb. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? She had learned to deal with the guilt after the last incident, but this was different. She could have killed someone—she might have even killed Strange. That was why the cuffs were on her wrists. But at least she was alive. At least someone hadn’t put a bullet in her head.

She buried her head in her hands. “So, I’m a war criminal now?” She doubted her years as a law-abiding American citizen mattered at all to General Ross. Not after what had transpired. Not when he didn’t even extend grace to the Avengers.

“You don’t seem like one.” Unsurprisingly, Loki was rather calm. Probably because he had been in this sort of situation before. She could always hope he could provide some plan, some assurance that they would be fine. But that didn’t seem likely at the moment.

Unsure of how to respond, she settled for, “thank you.”

Angry voices and thumps pierced the wall separating the drivers’ compartment from the security unit. She started, turning towards the wall as if that would somehow provide an answer. Had she imagined it?

Her confirmation came seconds later. “Did you hear that?” Loki asked, and she nodded. As she leaned forward, trying to hear if anything was being said in the driver’s cabin, there was another shout. The truck swerved sharply, braked too hard, and Madeline lost her balance, flying forwards out of her seat. Loki caught her by the shoulders easily, the cool metal of his restraints skimming her arms. He was so close to her face that she could see that his eyes were green. Then she cleared her throat, wondering why that was the first thing her brain had noticed.

She barely had time to apologize before the doors to the truck swung open, and light flooded in, the shadows of a woman and a man cast before them. She recognized both almost instantly, despite their altered appearances.

Ivanoff’s eyebrows furrowed. “This isn’t what I was expecting to find.”

Loki released his grip on her arms, the shocked expression on his betraying that he recognized the rescuers. But somehow, he didn’t seem that enthused with their appearance. She could understand why it was awkward, given the circumstances of their last meeting. And now they were rescuing him from being imprisoned again. A bit ironic, actually.

On a normal day, Madeline would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. How could she have ever imagined she would be a war criminal, locked in the back of an armored vehicle with a demi-god, and rescued by two superheroes? But she was speechless, largely because Ivanoff was supposed to be dead.

“Are you two getting out?” Ivanoff pressed, raising an eyebrow. “We’re on the clock here.”

“Right.” Madeline turned to the open doors, legs wobbling. There was no real way of knowing how the power cuffs were affecting her body, but they had definitely weakened her. She hopped down and would have pitched forward into the dirt had Ivanoff not steadied her. “How did you find us?” Madeline asked, scanning her surroundings. They were in a desert—one like you see in movies, with cacti, towering red rocks, and the obligatory tumbleweed. There was no way Ivanoff and Captain America had stumbled upon them by accident.

It made sense. If Ross had been sending them to a secure government facility, there was definitely one hidden in some desert somewhere.

“We used a tracker,” Ivanoff answered vaguely. Her eyes flickered to Madeline’s cuffed wrists and she grimaced. “We have to get these off. I know the feeling. The suppressant will last for a few hours but after it wears off your powers should come back.”

Madeline winced as Ivanoff’s hands hovered over the cuffs. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it hurt. “That could be a bad thing.”

Ivanoff raised an eyebrow. “Well, at least you’ll feel better,” she murmured. She was concentrating on the cuffs, the palms of her hands glowing a faint purple. “These shouldn’t be hard to get off, but I don’t want to fry your wrists.” Then suddenly the purple glow grew in magnitude and brightness. There was a snap and a clang as the handcuffs fell to the road.

More shouts sounded from the front of the armored truck, and it was only then that Madeline noticed Captain Rogers had disappeared. “Are you sure you’ve got this under control, Miss Ivanoff?” Loki ventured, making a point to jingle the chains of his cuffs together when she looked up.

“Don’t piss me off,” Ivanoff warned, “Thor sent us here to rescueyou; he never said I had to set you free.” She jerked her hand towards Madeline and hooked the cuffs onto her belt. “I’m sure we have room but I will gladly make up an excuse to give your spot to her.”

“Thor sent you?” Madeline recoiled in surprise. Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why they were here. Except, she didn’t know how Thor had managed to contact the ex-Avengers while under lock and key at the Compound. “How?”

“It was through this.” Ivanoff held up her wrist and showed them a simple metal bracelet, engraved with strange symbols. Probably Asgardian. Madeline followed as she and the Captain stepped off the road and into the barren desert. “I’m sure Loki recognizes it. It gives off a strong distress signal at any point where its match is activated. Thor gave it to me a few years ago before he left. Said if he ever needed us, he would let me know. Of course, his timing was perfect. I was halfway through a stack of blueberry pancakes when it lit up. But we figured it was important, so we followed it.”

Loki looked down at his arms, as if realizing something important, and sighed heavily. “He must have slipped the other beacon onto me when he hugged me.”

“Sounds like Thor’s getting better at being sneaky,” Ivanoff remarked. “You ready, Sam?”

Madeline heard a faint crackling, but nothing else. She cast a quizzical glance towards Loki; based off the knowing look in his eyes, he had some idea of what was happening. She took a few steps further but was stopped when a chain adorned arm reached out to stop her. Before she could ask just what he was doing, he nodded in the direction that she had been going. His lips twitched upwards, like he was withholding a grin. “Might I suggest looking up before you walk?”

Bemused, she did look up. Then, tilting her head to the side in amazement, she watched as a jet silently materialized out of thin air. “Where are you taking us?” she asked, following their rescuers up the jet ramp.

“Not back to New York, if that’s what you were wondering,” Ivanoff answered. She was right, Madeline had been wondering. With good reason.

“Somewhere safe,” Captain Rogers assured. “You’ll be granted asylum there for as long as you need.”

“Are you sure you want me coming too?” Loki asked, almost sounding bored. “Last time I was on Midgard I got the impression you would kill me if I dared to come back.”

“That can be arranged,” Ivanoff offered.

“Tori.” Steve’s voice carried a strain of warning, and a tiredness that only occurs in someone who has been doing this for years. “Thor wants him alive, I’m sure.”

“Fine, I’ll try to play Switzerland. But I don’t have to be friendly.”

“Where are the others?” Rogers asked, ending the argument. “Are they still at the Compound?”

“No. General Ross arrested everybody, including Banner.”

“Bruce? Why?” Ivanoff asked, alarmed.

“Possibly because he’s still the Hulk.”

His answer seemed to take the three former-Avengers by surprise. That, or they were still trying to figure out if Loki was lying or not.

“Still the Hulk?” Rogers’ brows furrowed in confusion.

Wilson turned in his chair to glance back towards the assembled group, disbelief evident on his face. “Hold up, I thought the Hulk always turned back into Bruce once he—you know—de-stressed?”

“Usually.”

“Did Tony even argue to keep Bruce from being incarcerated?” Ivanoff asked, sounding frustrated.

“Not to my knowledge,” Loki said drily. “I was busy being arrested.”

That seemed to be enough of a confirmation for Ivanoff. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Sam cut in, an edge of disbelief to his voice. “That’s exactly what happened to us.”

“Is it a cop out to say that I’m more disappointed than anything?” she returned with a huff.

“Was there anyone else who Ross could have arrested?” Rogers questioned, shooting a look to his companions that clearly meant drop it.

“My dog.” Madeline faltered, guilt flooding into her stomach. “And Dr. Strange.” If he woke up and was healthy enough to pose a threat, of course Ross would arrest him as well. After all, he had helped her.

“Who?”

“Stephen Strange. He helped me while I was at the compound.”

“Stephen Strange?” Rogers echoed, glancing towards Ivanoff. “We’ve heard that name before.”

“From Sitwell,” Ivanoff confirmed. “Is he working with the Avengers now?”

Madeline pursed her lips in contemplation. “It was more of an ‘out of necessity’ partnership.”

“Then he’s already in too deep,” Wilson said, not turning from his position in the pilot’s seat.

“Never mind that. Personally, I’d worry about your dog,” Ivanoff replied.

Rogers turned his gaze on Ivanoff. “Seriously?”

She shrugged defensively. “It’s a valid concern.”

Madeline cleared her throat and tried to steer the discussion elsewhere. “If we’re not going back to New York, then where are we going?”

The conversation stopped abruptly, like they had flown into a brick wall. “The only place any one of us can be safe,” Ivanoff said, “Wakanda.”

“You’re joking, right? They’d offer us—” she gestured between herself and Loki “—sanctuary?”

“They did for us,” Rogers replied, “and their king said they would for you too. As long as you cooperate.”

“Define cooperate,” Loki joined in, sounding bored.

“Just don’t talk, and you probably won’t have an issue,” Ivanoff told him frostily, and then turned to Madeline calmly. “I think you should get comfortable. We won’t land for a few more hours and your powers might make an appearance before then.”

Madeline nodded her thanks, scanning the room and choosing a seat furthest away from the group. She craved her own personal peace; a few moments in which she didn’t have to worry about being arrested or dying or accidentally killing somebody.

She tucked her legs onto the seat and closed her eyes, thinking about everything that had happened in the last day or so. Where she was going, who she was with. It was like a fever dream.

As she dozed off, she wondered how she had never realized how much safer it felt to have Astrid curled up by her side.

[aj-artjunkyard]

Trials Of Apollo Oneshot Series CHAPTER SIX

Takes place after the burning maze. Spoilers!

Meg propped her red high-tops up on the wooden table, engorging herself in a greasy chicken wing. I myself reclined on the sofa next to her, chewing on the best tasting fish I’d come across in a long time. The aurae brought whatever food the demigod, legacy or ex-god would like best. In my case, it was a typical ancient greek dinner - grilled fish with a small side dish of olives and olive oil. It reminded me of the old days, the heavenly smell wafting from my mother’s kitchen (minus the olives of course, as they had not yet been invented) while young Artemis and I played with nymphs, climbed trees and held archery competitions. Granted, my mother usually added a garnish of ground ambrosia, but that was slightly too impossible for me in my current state. Still, the thought brought tears to my eyes. I missed my sister and mother, more than words could describe. I managed to blink back the moisture welling up, but I was still glad we dined alone.

Our table looked pathetically desolate compared to the tables around us, which held fifteen demigods each. No one really wanted to talk to those who had pulled their respected leader into a quest which had gotten him killed. So, with our backs to the crowd, we ate in thoughtful silence (at least on my part) until Meg stirred me from my nostalgic reverie.

“You think Ella will finish the book thing in time?” Meg asked, pulling a chicken bone from her mouth and flicking it across the table.

“The Sibylline Books.” I corrected.

“Same difference.” 

“That’s my line.”

“Will they be ready or not?”

I sighed with exasperation at the impatience of my master. 

“I do not know.”

Meg rolled her eyes. 

“You never know anything.”

“Hey! I know as much as my father has left intact in my memories, and that is not my fault.”

Meg ignored my defence, and leaned over to my plate to prod my fish in the eye. 

“That’s gross,” she said, screwing up her face.

“Yes,” I agreed. “It is in fact disgusting to poke someone else’s food when they know you haven’t washed your hands.”

“Not that, dummy.” She pointed at my forkful of fish, which was halfway to my mouth. “That.”

I rolled my eyes and took another bite. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s hardly cooked.”

“It’s grilled.” 

Meg stuffed her face with another few bites. Her mouth was so full I was surprised she could still breathe. “Aren’t you supposed to put batter on it or something?” She asked, spraying my face with spit and bits of chicken. I grudgingly wiped it off. 

“Is there anything you Americans don’t deep fry?” 

In response, Meg lifted her feet off the low table, swivelled around and dropped them heavily onto my legs. She was now lying the length of the sofa while half-draped over me, pinning me to the soft cushioning. “Ow.”

She snorted at my discomfort, then continued to inhale her meat. 

My mind wandered around the possibilities of ever seeing my family again. My uncle Poseidon, who had always been my favourite uncle (although my only other uncles are either titans or Hades, so I guess that doesn’t come across as much of a compliment, but it is). My good friends, Hermes and Dionysus, who were always up for a good prank on Ares or ready with a bottle of wine after an awful day (but remember, alcohol is bad, kids. We only drink it because we are each over 3000 years old. Do not attempt until you are the same age, no matter what Dionysus tells you). My sister, the sharp huntress whom I would defend to the death. My mother. Sacred Sibyl, I missed my mother. I missed her warm hugs, her sweet honeysuckle scent, her soft, caring voice. I couldn’t stand the thought of never feeling her comforting presence again. I had to get home.

…

I woke, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for breath. ‘Blasted nightmares,’ I thought, desperately trying to rip the sheets off myself with shaking hands. My legs were still partially entangled when I attempted to stand, resulting in me thumping loudly to the floor. I grasped around in the dark for the small bedside table to help me stand. When I found the edge, I began to pull myself up, but the table tipped, sending me back to the hard floor and spilling its contents onto my head. The digital clock that clattered beside me read 01:38. I growled at it and stood, despite my quaking limbs. My nightmares had wildly unsettled me in ways I wouldn’t tolerate. ‘You’ll never hang onto those memories’, they taunted. ‘Give it a week and you won’t even remember their names’. 

“Shut up, shut up!” I hissed to myself. I began wondering, stumbling towards to bookshelf at the end of the long room. ‘What kind of brother forgets a sibling?’ “Stop.” ‘What kind of son?’ “Stop it!”

I began to yank old, dusty, leather bound books from the shelf, looking for anything with my name on the front. I needed to remember me. Anything. Anything at all. Finally, a large black book with the emboldened golden letters ‘APOLLŌ’ printed on the spine caught my attention. It was a few inches thick and the cover was almost as wide as my chest. Eyes widening, I harshly ripped the book out from its place, the sudden weight bearing down on my weak arms almost causing me to drop it. I did not wish to make any more noise than I already had. I wrapped it in my gangly human arms and lugged it out the door. 

I cannot say I knew where I was headed. I simply needed to get somewhere, to feel the crisp night wind sting my skin into feeling anything but numbness. I found myself marching up a hill. The extra muscle exertion distracted me from my troubles, so I kept climbing. A good way up the hill, I started to feel the pull of the familiar. Temple Hill. I scanned the assorted statues and . There was no particular order, other than ‘most important at the top’. Further on, a massive red crypt loomed, decorated with flames and human skulls. The name Mars Ultor came to me, but I overlooked it. My mind was so busy with rushing thoughts and doubts that I feared any more information might make my brain explode.

My fingers fidgeted with the tears and rough leather texture of the book in my grasp. I felt as if a band composed of nothing but timpani were performing a drumroll in my mind, getting more and more intense with each passing second. Unable to stand still for much longer, I bolted to my right, keeping my head down and following whatever path was under my feet. 

Maybe the last scraps of my godly essence guided me to the place it felt most at home. My mind was caught in such a flurry of panic that I barely noticed I was climbing marble steps until the steely cold shocked my unprotected soles. I was in an circular, open room held up by bronze pillars that were rimmed with gold. A golden dome sat over my head, and an array of my favourite items littered the right side of the room - a golden bow, a quiver stocked with arrows, an elegant grand piano. In the middle of the temple, an altar sat, waiting for sacrifices. I padded to the back of the room, my bare feet echoing on the smooth marble. Sliding my back down a pillar, I sat and heaved the book open. I was too flustered  to have possibly read a word, but the pictures soothed me. There were a few century-old ink sketches of the 'Apollo Belvedere’ in Rome, next to a modern Polaroid marked ‘Latona and Her Children, Apollo and Diana, carved 1874’ I smiled at the tranquil scene. Mother rarely appeared as such now, certainly not after the invention of many modern braid styles (she got me to teach her how to use Instagram so she can ‘see the videos all those pretty young ladies post’ and learn new hairstyles. She’s admittedly very talented. We tied on our self-held Let’s See Who Can Braid Their Hair The Fastest completion). A tear dripped onto the picture. I turned the page.

This one showed the ‘Diana as Huntress’  statue in Berlin. Artie always huffed about her statues, said they were ‘Too dramatic’. She questioned why she, a seasoned hunter, would ever stand around and wait around for the wind to blow the right direction just so she could look cool to the monsters charging at her and her girls. She can say what she likes, but I know that she prefers it when sculptors include her dogs. Just a thought for any artists out there, looking to gain Diana’s favour *wink*. I grinned at the thought of her thirteen year old form pouting up at me. The memory was fuzzy, but still clearer than usual. I turned the page again.

Again and again I flicked through photos of my relatives, skimming over the paragraphs just enough that it reminded me of their names and their relationships with me. Hermes/Mercury was my impish best friend, who I’d vowed to love for eternity. Hera/Juno was my stepmother who caused my mother and siblings nothing but pain, but somehow we respected each other enough to eat cabbage together and compliment each other’s hair. Dionysus/Bacchus was the ultimate party-man, often inviting me to play for his revelries. 

I turned the page once more. This time, I was met with an image that spanned the length of the two pages. At the top of the page, black threatening letters spelled out ‘JUPITER, FATHER OF APOLLO’ and in smaller writing ‘St Petersburg, Hermitage Museum’. Even from glancing into those blank, marble eyes, my anger spiked. ‘There he is’, I thought, ‘sitting all smug on his little stupid throne-’ I admit, my thoughts turned to bitter toddler-like insults. But looking at the god responsible for my misery made me want to throw the book across the temple and storm away. So I did just that. The book smacked into the alter (which tipped) and thumped open onto the floor cover side up, the crusty pages wrinkling under the force. I left the hook where the golden bow had hung empty as I went.

…

Twang!

The arrow just inside the red circle of the target, and I mentally awarded myself seven points. Not that it mattered. Judging by the moon’s position in the inky sky, it was now 3am - I had been at Camp Jupiter’s open-air archery range for almost two hours. No one else had been here when I arrived, and I was glad it had stayed that way. I needed time alone. To stew. I had first come out with the intention to ‘practice’ (still an alien concept to ex-flawless archers such as myself), but now, this long into the session, I was only blowing off steam. Channeling my frustration into every loose of an arrow, imagining the target as everyone who had wronged me over the course of this forsaken punishment. My knuckles tightened. My eyes narrowed. My shoulders tensed. 

Twang! An arrow buried itself deep in the flesh of Commodus’ shoulder.

Twang! A wooden shaft protruded from Caligula’s throat.

Twang! Blood seeped through the mauve suit surrounding Nero’s manipulating, insensitive heart.

Twang! Zeus howled in pain at the arrow embedded in his sternum.

Twang! Python writhed in agony, agony he deserved-

“Apollo!”

I yelped and my shot went wildly off course, flying high with no power or distance, and landing in the grass in front of the target with a thud. Whipping around, I was about to tell whoever it was to GO AWAY when I was met with an equally startled young man, dressed in pyjama bottoms and the signature purple Camp Jupiter t-shirt, with the gold letters SPQR emblazoned boldly on the front. He quickly raised his hands in a placid manner, showing that he meant no harm. Nevertheless, I remained on guard. There had been a few who had not exactly welcomed the bearers of Jason’s coffin warmly, and this had been a close friend of the son of Jupiter. I feared I could not take this particular demigod in a fight. Even though he looked to be not much older than myself, he towered above me - perhaps a few inches beyond six foot tall, which made my lanky 5”6 feel minuscule. He had handsome asian features and soft brown eyes that I wagered could shift from kindness to anger in moments. He wore jet black hair in a military cut, making him seem like the world’s youngest army general.

“Frank Zhang.” I nodded to him once before turning back to my anger outlet. I was in no mood to talk. Not after loosing any way to contact my family. Not after loosing my memories to oblivion. Not after loosing Jason. Not when I knew he could react violently, as some already had. And if his heritage and blessing from Mars went against my mortal pathetic self, I doubted I would last more than ten seconds. Thankfully, he did not look like he came to pick a fight. He came forward and stood beside me silently, watching as I drew back the bowstring. I felt his eyes bore into me, assessing my posture, my strength, my balance. It was off-putting. That, dear readers, is why my arrow went rogue. It wasn’t my fault. It thunked into the wooden leg that held up the target. I felt my cheeks redden. I glared at the stupid arrow, willing it to pick itself up and hover over to the bullseye. Unsurprisingly, this did not happen. It stubbornly stayed where it was, planted in the wood. 

I really hated having an audience for my failures, especially if the audience was a child who had once hoped and prayed for me, the Great Golden Archer, to be his father. I doubted Frank felt such a longing anymore. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was smiling sympathetically at me, having witnessed my disgraceful excuse for a shot for the first time. I decided that Gaia coming back and swallowing me whole at that exact moment would not have been protested against.

“Here,” Frank said calmly, reaching towards me and adjusting my grip on the bowstring. “You’re gripping the string too far up your fingers. You don’t want to make a fist around it.” He peered down at my feet. “And you’re too tense. Relax your stance a little.” I obliged, already seeing my stupid mistakes. My cheeks seemed to heat up even more, and I found myself resisting the urge to bury my acne-ridden face in my hoodie. Frank seemed to notice, and backed off, instead ambling over to a small supply shed where he scooped up a bow and a fistful of arrows. I kept myself occupied from the daunting future that would have Frank humiliating me by nocking another arrow. This time, I tried to take on board what advice I’d been given.

I angled my left foot closer to the direction of the target, so I took on a more open stance, then checked my fingering was correct. Taking a deep breath, I used my back muscles to push my shoulder blades together as to take the strain off my arm and shoulder muscles - an unforgotten golden rule of archery. I drew back the bowstring until I reached my anchor point (the index finger touching the corner of my mouth), and fired. Twang! Not a bullseye, but well within the first yellow circle. I grinned in delight. Success was a rare feeling nowadays.

“Good job.” He congratulated quietly, grinning and turning to his own target. We both drew our bows.

After about ten more shots, and four bullseyes on my part (how many frank got is not relevant, moving on), Frank suggested we go back inside.

“It’s early,” he said, rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn. He started walking down towards the fifth cohort’s barracks, so I followed. “We should get back. Jason’s funeral is later, and you’ve barely been to sleep.”

“How did you know?”

Frank scratched the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly.

“Well, you made a bit of a racket when you were leaving the barracks. What with the whole…falling and throwing books and stuff…”

Yup. The ground was more than welcome to swallow me now. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as I felt my acne-riddled face turn tomato coloured for the umpteenth time that morning, and glared at the grass.

“Apologies.” I muttered. “I panicked.”

“Yeah, you seemed upset so I told the others to leave you alone. I thought maybe you wanted some peace and quiet. But you were gone for ages, so I came to find you.”

I shot him a questioning look. ‘Why?’ He read my mind. 

“It’s my job as Praetor to make sure everyone’s safe,” he explained, his chest puffing out slightly at the little self-reminder of his recently increased status. “And, it sucks. To loose people, I mean.”

I looked up at the Roman. His eyes were shimmering with tears, but he looked me in the eye anyway. He wasn’t afraid to show emotion, which was a rare trait, especially in the legion, but one I had always admired. 

“I only knew him for a few hours. Why do I feel so awful?”

“Because Jason was a great demigod. The greatest. He made an impact on everyone he talked to.” -Frank gestured around the camp- “He really made an impact here. Especially with the loser fifth cohort.”

“He-he told me to fulfil his promise. To build temples for every god in the pantheon.”

“Yeah. He could be like that. Noble, even at the worst of times. But that’s not the reason you’ve been drilling holes into the archery equipment for an a few hours straight.”

I answered with all the intelligence of someone who hadn’t slept since 1am. 

“Huh?”

“I didn’t think to check here first,” he said. “I went up to your temple.”

I got flashbacks to my toddler-esque temper tantrum.

“Ooh. Yeah…”

“Yeah.” He responded in a tone that said ‘been there, done that, got the t-shirt’. “Families are messy.” 

“I miss them.”

“That’s normal. Bitterness is normal. You aren’t being overdramatic.” 

I smiled at the confirmation. 

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

We were back at the barracks. Frank smiled at me one last time and patted me on the back, before lumbering in. I followed. 

I slept soundly the rest of the night.

…

I walked, lead-legged, up Temple Hill. The whole camp was eerily quiet. Jason’s body had been given proper honours, and the legion had been given the day off from duties. I couldn’t stand the prying eyes of 200 kids for much longer, so, even while I had only gotten four hours of sleep and was weighed down with grief, I travelled to the only place in the camp that was truly ‘mine’. 

Tired and weary, I plopped down on the seat of the sleek, white grand piano. I ran my fingers across the smooth fallboard for a solid minute of distracted silence, before lifting it to reveal the ivory keys. They were chipped and yellowed and seemingly out of place compared to the stark white of the piano itself, were inevitably out of tune. I played a short scale, opened up the lid and tightened the loose turning pins I had hit, then continued with my scales. I repeated until I was positive that every key was in perfect harmony, which took all of ten minutes.

Satisfied with the tuning, I took a deep breath and splayed my fingers out on the keyboard, and played a tune that inspired grace and felt to me like a ballerina daintily dancing on water. After a second, the fingering flowed into my memory, allowing my hands to glide elegantly across the piano while I stared over the rim and through the gaps between the temple’s pillars, and into the distance. The sky was clear and perfect blue, and the warm breeze swept gently through my hair. I remembered sitting with my mother on Delos, our shoulders touching as together, we played two parts of the same harmony. Like two streams running down a mountain, weaving around each other and sometimes intersecting to make one stronger melody. My heartbeat calmed from the stress of what was now everyday life to me. Peril, danger and death.

A jarring dissonance of notes jolted me back to unwelcome reality. I rolled my eyes glared at the pudgy young demigod beside me.

“You know, there are ways to make your presence known without scaring flocks of birds away.”

“Yeah I know,” Meg replied shrugging. “But it’s not as fun as watching you jump ten feet in the air.”

“I wasn’t scared! I knew you were beside me!”

“Uh huh,” she grunted, turning her attention to the keys and banging a few more notes without mercy.

“I just tuned those, you monster.”

Meg smirked. Then she ordered me to shift over on the bench, and practically bounced down in the middle, leaving me with one leg hanging off the side.

“Teach me that one. The one you were playing.”

I was too taken aback to argue it’s difficulty, especially for a beginner. I thought we had long since given up on the piano lessons (Meg was not very good), and even if we hadn’t, this tune was graceful and elegant - not words commonly used to describe Meg McCaffrey. But I admit, I missed playing with someone. And so we began.

“Why don’t you watch me first, try to absorb as much of the tune as possible before I teach you the left hand.”

Meg tried to hide her smile.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Bit of a shorter chapter this time. Sorry for the long wait, I started writing out several completely different chapters and never finished them because they just weren’t good enough. Also, the point about ‘No romance’ in these chapters still stand. Frank and Apollo were written as a kid and an adult becoming good friends, NOT BOYFRIENDS. 

[come-with-me-and-imagine]

Your Ever Faithful Shadow Chapter Four

"Bucky!" Steve called his friends name as he threw open the curtains. The sudden shock of bright light woke Bucky almost instantly. 

"Wha..." He replied with the sleep still present in his voice.

"Come on time for our morning run." Steve smiled at his friend as he tossed him his workout clothes.

"You are far too damn cheerful for this early in the morning." He groaned as he dragged his tired body from the bed.

"Have to be to get your ass out of bed. Come on, we go running and then we go get coffee. There is this really nice place near the park that I have been wanting to take you to. Lovely little Cafe and Bistro with coffee to die for. Really nice workers there. Especially the owner." Steve couldn't help but smile at the thought of the curvaceous red haired owner of that place.

"Are you smiling? Okay, who do you have a crush on?" Bucky smirked as he teased his friend. He laughed when his hoody was thrown at him.

"Well, you seem to be in a good mood. Therapy working?"

"No, I...I actually had a good nights sleep." He said as his hand went through his hair before he dressed.

"Oh? That's good Buck." He gave his friend a pat on the back and they left the apartment.

The early morning air was crisp as the two pulled their hoodies over their heads. "Ready for a good run?"

"See if you can keep up this time." Bucky and Steve took off in a run down the street towards the park. They had started doing this a week ago and it seemed to help Bucky think about things.

"So do you remember anything more about this Shadow person?" Steve asked on this particular run.

"Why is everyone so curious?"

"Well, I am mainly curious because "Shadow" was part of your past. But about a few years ago, from what I gather, he managed to escape Hydra. Or well that is what the file said. But that file had very little information and we don't know how reliable that information is. However, since your partner wasn't with you during everything I guess it's safe to assume part of it is right."

"Maybe. Or," Bucky shuddered at the thought that passed through his mind "What if they had Shadow killed? I mean Hydra was in the habit of getting rid of whatever wasn't useful to them."

"But if Shadow was like you, then wouldn't they...he...them what ever be considered an asset just like you?"

"Who knows, could be possible. All I remember Steve is a pair of gray eyes. That is what is the clearest. These like foggy but yet not really foggy nor steel. But just these gray eyes."

"Grey eyes..." he repeated those words "Hmm."

"Why does SHIELD want to know Steve? They keep asking me, my therapist keeps asking me."

"Maybe they just want to know if, and maybe if this Shadow is out there. I guess they need to know if they are a threat."

"I don't trust Fury with the knowledge of Shadow." Bucky slowed "I may not remember but...I feel very protective of them. I mean..." He slowed down to a walk and Steve soon followed. "I knew them. I had their back." I had her back... "Shadow was my partner Steve. My Shadow...I remember when I was first introduced to them. Shadow was strapped into that chair, Steve. They wiped Shadow's memory. Just like they did mine."

Steve stood there and listened to Bucky's words. "You care about them don't you?"

"Aren't I supposed to? I mean it seems I do despite how...cold I was. I just I don't know a lot about them and it bugs me. Did they do something to Shadow and then wiped my brain afterward? Did they escape?" Bucky sighed heavily and ran his fingers over his face and into his hair.

"It will be okay Buck. I mean you have already remembered so much in just a couple of months. It might be that super soldier serum that we were both injected with." He gave his friends shoulder a squeeze. "How about that coffee? We can run and get there faster."

Bucky looked up at Steve and shook his head. "Alright lead the way Captain."

Steve took a step then hesitated "You know the last time you said that it didn't end well."

"I know. Hense why you go first." Bucky laughed as Steve began to chase him. "Come on Punk you can't outrun me!"

"Yeah, we will see about that!"

Meanwhile at the Cafe,

Rina went about busily fulfilling the orders for the lunch rush. Charlie was in the kitchen cooking up a storm with Ricardo and Manny.

"Hey, Rina you okay?" Charlie asked after he had rung up the pickup bell. He stared at her with those glittered covered eyes. Charlie was one of the three books they had at the Bistro.   

He was gayer than a maypole black man from the Bronx. And Rina and Molly adored him to pieces. His idol was Lafayette from True Blood. He tried to hold the same amount of swagger and sass that he did.

"I'm fine Charley why do you ask?"

"You just don't seem to have that pep in your step today," Manny interjected earning a glare from the head cook.

"'Scuse me bitch I believe I was the one speaking." He said with that sassy ass tone of his that just made anyone either smile or roll their eyes.

"Yeah, even Molly noticed," Ricardo yelled from the back.

"Would you two get back to work we have orders to fill!" The two younger cooks ducked back into the kitchen out of fear that Charlie would whip them with his dish rag. "But those two knuckle heads are right. You don't have that pep in your step. You usually sing along with that ol' jukebox."

"I'm just trying to give the customers their food. I will sing when the lunch rush is over." Rina smiled as she took the to go boxes and placed them into bags.

"I will hold you to that!"

Molly came up and grabbed two plates "Oh my God Steve's here." Molly said with a blush that was redder than her hair.

"Wait a minute who is Steve?" Rina looked at her friend with a curious look "Molly has a crush? And I am just finding out about this now?" Her head turned when she heard laughter from the kitchen.

"Yeah, honey. She has a massive crush on good Ol' Captain America. Mr. Steve Rogers himself. Unf that man is one fiiiiine piece of All American Ass."

"Charlie you promised." Molly blushed harder "Besides I bet he doesn't even know who I am."

"Darlin, he has been comin' here practically every morning after that run of his. And why? Because you make the finest cup o' coffee from here to Jersey. And trust me, that smile he gives you? He notices you. How can he not with those sexy ass curves of yours." He batted his long eyelashes at her before turning back to the food.

Molly blushed as she took the plates to the customers before they got cold. Rina smiled and laughed as she shook her head. She decided to look up at that moment and saw a tall muscular (hair color) man. He wore workout clothes and held a smile as he walked up to the counter. "Two coffees please, black." He said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Sure thing." Rina smiled and poured two medium to go cups with the fresh brewed black coffee. "Good workout I take it?"

"Yeah, good morning run through the park." Steve smiled at Rina but he froze briefly when she looked up at him. Grey eyes...He thought as her eyes stared at him.

"8.50 sir." She watched Steve shake his head as though he were clearing his mind.

"I'm sorry what?"

"8.50 for the coffees." Rina smiled watching him take the money out and placing it on the counter. Steve offered her one last smile as he walked out with the cups in his hand. She shook her head again and placed the money into the register. She heard him talking to someone as he opened the door.

Slowly her eyes looked up and her heart stopped.

Winter?!

He was there! He was really there! Oh god, he is friends with Captain America?! Many things ran through Rina's mind as she watched them talk. She watched him drink the coffee as he laughed and talked with Steve.

Did he remember her? Had he seen her?

Rina quickly ducked down behind the counter as he turned to look inside.

Outside Bucky continued to drink the delicious coffee. "Man this is good coffee."

"I told you. Hey Bucky...just a theory here but...was Shadow a man?" He had become curious about that after he had seen Molly's gray eyed co worker.

"I don't know maybe." What is he onto? Has he figured something out? Bucy turned away and looked inside the cafe. He could see people laughing and smiling. He couldn't help but think if he would ever be happy.

Rina stood from behind the counter when customers came up to her. She put on a smile for them but still kept a watchful eye on him. What if he saw her and he recognized her? What if he didn't? Rina sighed mentally and went about with her work. What was the harm if he did see her?

It was right at that moment Bucky looked inside. When he saw her, his heart skipped. The muscles in his chest tightened and his breathing increased. THe woman at the counter looked just like the woman in his visions.

"Look out!" Suddenly a young boy rammed right into him causing him to spill his coffee. "Oh god, I'm so so sorry." Bucky looked up and saw tiny very tiny...midget? "I'm so sorry I can get you a new one."

"It's okay...kid." THe boy was fidgety and looked like a complete and total nerd. "Why are you in such a hurry kid?"

"Oh uh, my sister I am late for meeting her at the station."

"Oh okay well just be careful okay?"

"Will do." He said with a smile "Thanks."

"Yo Peter." The three of them turned to see Molly standing there. Molly smiled at the dark haired boy. "Your sister is already here."

"What?" His face broke out into one of confusion. How did his sister get to the Cafe already?

"She found her way here and got her old job back." Molly smiled "Come on sweetie come inside and we will have some coffee."

"Thanks, Molls. It has been a hell of a week." Peter sighed and walked inside wanting nothing more than to get a hug from his big sister.

Molly smiled "Do you want me to get you another coffee? Im sorry about Peter he's been a bit on the down side since his girlfriend died."

"Oh gosh um...no thanks I'm good actually." Bucky said offering Molly a smile "But the coffee is great."

"It's the best coffee I've ever had." Steve tuned in with agreement. "Oh, I am Steve by the way."

"I'm Bucky."

"Molly Evans it's nice to meet you. Hope to see you again soon." She smiled at them both and went back inside. "Hey, Rina look who decided to show up."

Rina looked up and smiled as her younger brother came up and gave her a big hug. "Hey twig what's up?"

"I'm sorry about being late sis. There has been a lot going on. Ya know since Gwen and Aunt May."

"I know sweet pea, but hey I'm home now. I'm going to take care of you okay?" Peter nodded as he hugged her tighter.

All the while outside, Steve took out his cellphone and sent a text to Tony. He wanted to run a check on her without alerting Fury. This was mainly a hunch.

'I need a background check on an employee at the cafe and bistro off near Collins Park.'

Rina looked back as Steve and Bucky walked off. She got a feeling deep in her gut that something wasn't right. Something was going to happen. Something she would have to be ready for.

Elsewhere,

"Sir, we found the asset."

Good work soldier. Good work.

"We have also Identified a former agent who defected."

"You have found Winter's Shadow?"

"Yes, sir."

@hildeerpdottir