#lamplighter icons

[kincord-kinhelp]

Seld indulgent Icons for an alter from a very easy to guess au!!

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[hotcinnamonsunset]

Distantly, through a slowly clearing fog, through a messy kiss, Alex can't help but marvel at the knowledge that he's crossed some kind of Rubicon, here in this room that's almost as old as the country it's in, like Washington crossing the Delaware. He laughs into Henry's mouth, instantly caught up in his own dramatic mental portrait of the two of them painted in oils, young icons of their nations, naked and shining wet in the lamplight. He wishes Henry could see it, wonders if he'd find the image as funny. -- Red, White & Royal Blue, chapter 6

[liloinkoink]

talking in lamplight server abt Martyn in 3L vs LimL and his choice to betray or not betray his allies—namely, Martyn choosing to kill Scott in LimL, and choosing to stay loyal to Ren in 3L. it made me realize i’ve never made a post abt one bit of how i understand the way Martyn operated toward the end of third life, so im copy pasting what i said over there

i’ve always taken Martyn’s refusal to kill/betray Ren in 3L as the opposite of choice—3L Martyn could never choose, and that’s why he stuck with Ren

LimL Martyn made a choice. he decided to betray scott, and he won. but he waited till the last second to do it, stalling until they were final 3 to drop lava on the other two and steal the win (which. iconic)

but 3L…. ooc, in a stream after the fact, Martyn said he wanted to kill Ren when they were final five. they died seventh and sixth, right outside the cutoff

i’ve always taken that to imply, like… moving goal posts

Martyn telling himself he’ll kill Ren… but not yet. sitting there on yellow, telling himself he’ll kill Ren on red. singing the song of spring on red, but telling himself he’ll need an ally for now to go after the crastle and the desert, and that he’ll kill Ren once they’re dealt with. he needed Ren to kill Joel and kill Scott, he needed Ren to defend Dogwarts. fighting their enemies would be easier with someone at his back. he needed to wait. Ren took off his armor in front of Martyn, Etho, and BigB, and Martyn had the perfect opportunity…. but he reminds Ren to put it back on. can’t kill Ren in front of their friends, after all, they’d just jump him. later, later, the moment will come. after this fight, after that battle, he’s still better alive than dead, there’s still a good reason, Ren can live just a little longer….

but he’ll do it soon, he swears

he cares for Ren, but not more than he cares for himself. he’s selfish, a survivor. Martyn will never make a choice that will put his own survival at risk. but didn’t you hear me? he’s selfish. he likes Ren. he wants to keep him around. he doesn’t want to let go of him. but he will. after this. just one more minute

i don’t think he ever chose. to me, he kept putting off that moment he would have to, and then that choice was taken from him

[goldencherriess]

I fall to my death.

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Fem! Reader

Summary: Y/N and her friends become prey on their way to Los Angeles and she quickly realises she might be stronger than she thought.

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Y/N being the icon she is, mentions of blood, angst

Previous part || Series masterlist

Stars were twinkling in the sky as Y/N fluttered her eyes open. Something soft was cradling her back and she quickly realised she was laying in the dirt, on a bed of moss. She frowned. She didn’t remember falling asleep in the woods. She sat up, her eyes immediately recognising a familiar sight. A cabin stretched towards the starry sky in sturdy wooden beams, shadowed by pricking pine trees. Her blood ran cold, something about it struck a fight or flight response in her.

Or maybe she was just back home. But shouldn’t home feel welcoming?

She got to her feet slowly, turning to look around, but darkness hid what the woods would otherwise whisper in daylight. Everything was quiet. Still. Abandoned even. She turned towards the cabin, startled that a golden light appeared in the window. It was faint and if she remembered well, it came from the old living room, in which she and her mother used to spend evenings reading by the lamplight. Sometimes, her mother would recount to her old legends about Olympus, other times she would refuse to utter a word about them. Y/N didn’t dwell too much on it, happy enough to share some quiet moments with her before bed. It became a ritual. 

Y/N took shy steps toward the cabin, the light flowing from the window illuminating her way and stretching shadows on the mossy ground. She pushed the door open. It creaked as she stepped inside. The light from the living room reached the hallway and she hesitated as she took in her surroundings. Everything was how it used to be. The wool carpet was still biting at its touch, the walls deep brown, a rich aroma of an entire forest residing in the cabin. A few photos hung on the walls and tears gathered in her eyes as she pinpointed the moment they were taken. In one of them there was that creek ten minutes away from the cabin and her dipping her toes in it at the ripe age of three. She frowned. Beside the photo there was one she didn’t ever remember seeing. It depicted her. But as a baby. In the arms of a man. She could only see his arms but Y/N already knew. She sniffed and took a step closer, but the floor whined under her feet and in the darkness surrounding her, she felt being watched. Goosebumps raked on her arms.

“Mom?” she called out, her voice trembling. 

Silence stretched on and she stepped forward. A waft of tomato sauce and spices hit her and she almost stumbled at the familiarity of it all. 

“Mom? Are you in the kitchen?”

She gulped down some tears and stepped into the kitchen. The aroma was stronger there. Pitch black surrounded her, but the moon rays shed light on a pot full of steaming spaghetti and two empty plates. The sight was so familiar that her heart ached. She blinked. She didn’t have enough courage to take a seat at the table and dig into the fresh meal. She turned on her heels, her knees buckling. 

“Mom, where are you?”

Her throat was closing in and she had to swallow just to breathe. Shaking, she stepped into the living room. The lamp was on and the light bathed everything in warm colours. Dust swirled in the light and Y/N almost sneezed. 

“Y/N?”

She whipped around, the heart in her chest stopping for a second. Her mother was standing before her, with a warm smile stretching on her cracked lips. Her hair was curling in millions of ringlets, just as it always did. A few wrinkles decorated the corner of her eyes and a silver flashed from her neck. It was the necklace she always used to wear. The pendant curved in the form of a single raindrop. Y/N frowned at the sight of it. She remembered her mother gifting it to her on that cursed hospital bed. Y/N almost had a half of mind to check her own neck, but the extra weight confirmed to her that she still had it. She blinked in confusion.

“Mom?” Y/N whispered. 

Her mother nodded. “I made spaghetti, my darling. Your favourite.”

A pang pricked Y/N’s heart, as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. And then she rushed towards her and tightly wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in her chest and inhaling her scent. After all this time, she smelled the same. Of pine trees, and dusty books and spaghetti. Of home. 

“What’s gotten into you, sweetheart?” her mother chuckled.

“I just really missed you,” answered Y/N, all choked up.

And with her heart quivering in her chest, she felt the gentle hand of her mother caressing the top of her head. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her hands balling the shirt of her mother and she gulped down tears.

But then the caressing turned into hurtful pulls. Y/N frowned. “Mom, it hurts.”

Silence fell upon her ears and the hands continued to pull her by the roots of her hair. Y/N’s face twisted in pain. “Mom, please, it really hurts.”  She tried breaking free from her arms, but it was as if her feet were glued to the floor. “Mom, it’s hurting me.”

“You’re forgotten, child.”

The voice that reached her ears in a sonorous chorus wasn’t her mother’s and she fought against the suffocating hold.

“With no father, no mother and no aunt, you are forgotten. You are no hero.”

Y/N twisted in the arms and fell back, on her bottom. Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled. Fear clawed at her throat and she looked up. A cloaked figure holding a lantern peered down at her with a pair of golden eyes. 

“You are no hero on this quest. You shall fail it.”

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. When she snapped them open, she was met with the sight of a moving ceiling. Her heart was racing and her breath was shallow. She sat up, panting, letting her eyes roam around. The puffing of the train reached her ears and she slowly exhaled, remembering she was on the way to Los Angeles. Panic subsided and the blood seemed to flow more easily in her veins now. She heard Grover quietly snore on the top bed of the train cabin. She glanced to the bed in front of her, her eyes catching the silhouette of Annabeth, wrapped in bed sheets, her back to her. 

Y/N sighed through her nose, leaning her back on the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. She let her head fall back, watching how the train sped by through the window, grateful that the cabin stopped spinning in circles. She knew what it came after an occurring nightmare. She wouldn’t fall back asleep, no matter the night hour. 

It wasn’t the first time she dreamed in the dead of the night. The dreams and nightmares never left her in peace. They followed her even in the deepest cores of her subconscious, haunting her mind and soul. But this one felt different. More real. Her mother felt real. But only for a split second. The illusion was ruined and she was awake, drenched in sweat and alone in a swaying cabin. 

She hugged her knees and frowned. Someone knew her most burning desire and lured her in with it, twisting it until her home was only standing on shadows, empty rooms and dusty photos. Until her mother was an unrecognisable ghost of what she used to be. Her mouth twitched and she sniffed. 

She leaned her chin on her knees, looking out the window. The moon was enveloping the dark rolling fields in a silver blanket. The stars were winking playfully at her. She missed watching and counting them. In Manhattan they were never visible, and at Camp Half-Blood she was too stubborn to glance out the window, choosing instead to stare angrily at the ceiling every time she woke up during the night. A cloud rolled by and swallowed the moon. Y/N blinked and closed her eyes, listening to her friend’s snoring and the train engines’ puffing. A quiet gasp reached her ears and she opened her eyes, turning to look at the mop of golden curl from beside her. 

Percy was staring up at the ceiling, his lips slightly parted and he looked how she always felt whenever thunder invaded her dreams. How she was currently feeling, still under the effect of the nightmare. She heard him swallow audibly and she uncrossed her arms. “Had a nightmare?” she asked softly, mindful of her friends sleeping. 

Percy jumped, startled at the sound of her voice. He glanced at her, before moving his gaze back on the ceiling. “How did you–?”

“I have them too.”

Silence settled between them and the moon won against the darkening clouds, bathing the cabin in a silver glow. Y/N could see Percy better now, thin beads of sweat crowning his forehead. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” he simply answered.

She nodded before she crossed her arms around her knees once again, turning her back to him and her face towards the window. A pine tree stretched towards the inky sky and homesickness washed over her at the sight of it.

She heard Percy rustle in his makeshift bed. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring at her. “Do you want to talk about yours?” she heard him whisper.

“No,” she replied, her hands clenching her legs until her knuckles turned white. 

The whistling of the train filled the air and Y/N felt her eyelids get heavier, as if they were made of lead. She blinked the sleep away, sitting straighter. 

Percy’s voice eventually cut through the heavy silence. “Why do you hate me?” 

She stilled. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, I don’t. Believe it or not.”

A few beats of silence passed before he spoke up again. “Have you ever met Thalia?”

Y/N’s eyebrows twitched and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. He was laying on his back again, his hands intertwined on his stomach, searching the ceiling, as if it could give him answers to his questions. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Well, I mean, she was the last forbidden kid before me, right?”

“From what we know, yes,” Y/N nodded slowly.

“She must’ve dealt with the same kind of stuff.”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met her.”

Percy frowned, turning his head to look at her. “But I thought– I mean, you and Annabeth are close. You and Luke, as well. I just thought–”

“I came a year later than them to the Camp. The pine tree was already there,” Y/N interrupted him with a firm voice. “I’ve never met Thalia.”

“Then how come you’re so attached to the tree? I saw you.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment too long. She remembered the rough bark and the energy flowing through it every time she touched it, as if it was alive. As if it somehow knew her.

“It’s sacred,” she murmured.

She heard Annabeth turn in her bed, the sheets rustling, a soft sigh coming through. Percy moved his gaze from Y/N to the figure of Annabeth laying on her back. “Hey, you asleep?” he whispered. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at his question, turning to look at Athena’s daughter. Her chest was raising and lowering in even breaths. 

“Yes,” Annabeth answered, sarcasm coating her tongue. 

“You and Thalia were really close, right?” continued Percy. 

“Yeah.”

“What was she like?”

Annabeth hesitated. “She was tough. I mean, she knew she was a forbidden kid, she just didn’t care. When Luke and Thalia found me, Luke cared for me right away.”

Y/N heard the story already, she knew how it all went down, how the three of them became to each other the home they had lost. She also knew that Luke caring for lost, little children was just the way he was. An older brother even to those who might not have been his half-siblings. But she knew, he was hers, half-sibling or not.

“But Thalia… she made me earn it,” whispered Athena’s daughter in the quiet cabin.

Percy blinked, slightly frowning. “Is this why you give me a hard time? I gotta earn it with you too?”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Annabeth sighed. 

Y/N lowered her gaze, looking at the socks on her feet. They were of the dullest a colour, a washed out grey. A flashing memory flowed into her mind. Giggling and running around barefoot, behind the cabin in the woods, dipping her toes into the creek, climbing trees tall enough to touch the ever crystal sky. She blinked and the memory faded.

“I gotta say, that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me,” voiced Percy, his tone sharp.

Y/N moved her gaze onto him. “What doesn’t?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

He looked at her, exhaling in frustration. 

“What doesn’t make sense to you?” emphasised Annabeth.

“The way you guys all talk. The way the gods want us to think. Gotta burn an offering to get a parent’s attention. Gotta beat up on Clarisse just to get my father to admit he’s my father. Gotta go on a quest just to get claimed at the end of it,” he said, gazing at Y/N with a storm swirling in his eyes. “It isn’t supposed to work that way. People who are close to you aren’t supposed to treat you that way.”

Y/N moved her gaze away, his words echoing true in her mind. She knew all too well what love is supposed to feel like, she felt it once too. She was lucky to grow up happily between the swaying of the trees and the whispers of the wind. But then luck had run out. 

“You wanna know how I ended up on the road in the first place?” asked Annabeth, cutting the silence. “I started out as a gift to my father. That’s how it works with Athena. We’re born from a thought, and then given to a partner she feels connected to. And for a while, I was treated like a gift. My father cared for me. He loved me. I knew it. Then he met a woman. They had their own kids.” She inhaled, a hand wrapped around what Y/N knew was her father’s ring. “And to her, I– I wasn’t a gift. I was a problem. So I left. I was seven.”

Y/N turned to look at her, her eyebrows downcast, a matching sorrow in her gaze. She wanted to reach out and take her by the hand, just as she always did. 

“It isn’t the gods who think that way. It’s everybody. But at least with the gods you know the rules. Show them respect and they’ll be in your corner no matter what.”

Annabeth let a hand fall beside her, at the edge of the bed. Y/N took it and squeezed it. She felt Annabeth squeeze back. By this point, it had become their friendship token. 

“What about you, Y/N? How did you arrive at the Camp?”

Y/N detected curiosity in Percy’s tone. She glanced at him. He was still staring at the ceiling.

“Did you have a Protector satyr?”

“No. I grew up outside of the city for most of my childhood. Just me and my mom for a while.” A nostalgic smile blossomed on her lips and she looked at her outstretched shadow on the floor. If she squinted, she could imagine it was her mother’s silhouette. “Just the two of us against the world.” Her eyebrows pinched together in a furrow. “My aunt brought me to Camp when my mom couldn’t. She was my protector. Both of them were.”

“You’re a year-rounder,” said Percy in realization.

“Yeah,” she nodded, her voice fading.

Percy didn’t reply, a deep silence filling the cabin. Groans and sheets rustling from the top bunk reached their ears.

“You awake?” the blond asked

“Well, I am now. Thanks,” a grumpy voice answered back.

Y/N smiled, hearing it. “Sorry, Grov.”

He just grumbled back.

“Are you okay?’ Percy continued. 

“He’s super grouchy when he doesn’t get enough sleep,” explained Annabeth, her hand still in Y/N’s. 

“He’s super grouchy when he doesn’t get enough… Nah!” mimicked the satyr in a pitch high voice, with the back towards them, talking to the wall.

Y/N let a giggle escape her lips. 

“Wow,” said Percy, raising his eyebrows. 

“You’ve never been on the road with him before,” stated Annabeth. “A little different than a froofy boarding school.”

“Who’s froofy? You’re froofy. What’s froofy?” said Grover, his voice hoarse. “I think I need to eat.”

“Well, I think we should get a little more sleep while we still can,” said Y/N, taking out her hand from Annabeth’s hold and settling back in her makeshift bed, raising the duvet up to her chin. “It’s still early out.”

“Already ordering everyone around and it’s not even daylight,” retorted Poseidon's son, but his tone turned playful. Challenging. 

“You will regret not listening to me in the morning when all you will have left is bags under your eyes and a sleep deprived brain.” She paused. “Which it will be a shame, since it’s already made from seaweed.”

“Stop calling me a seaweed brain!”

“Stop giving me reasons to!”

Annabeth audibly sighed, turning in her bed, her back to them. “Go back to sleep.”

“On it,” said Grover, seconds away from snoring again. 

Y/N fluttered her eyes shut, the rocking of the train lulling her back to sleep. Before she fell into her slumber, she heard Percy whisper to her. 

“Sweet dreams. I’ll keep the nightmares away.” 

The sleep came to her swiftly, a deep, dreamless one. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

She only managed to sleep for an hour, as Annabeth acutely told her, before she was woken up by Grover’s grumbling stomach. Dawn was just breaking through, painting streaks of fiery orange and deep indigo into the skies, the first rays of sun bathing the dining car in shallow light. And after Grover gulped down an entire breakfast in the span of ten minutes, a silence only cut by the train's horn settled between them. Y/N blinked the sleep out of her eyes, her head in her hand, watching the clouds gather shy and quivering sun rays in them. 

“Two days until we reach Los Angeles. Plenty of time before our deadline to reach the Underworld,” chirped Grover. Y/N turned to look at him. He was bearing a slight, satisfied smile. Y/N suspected that the breakfast must have done its job. She felt the corners of her own lips curling up. 

“Can I ask a dumb question?” she heard Percy say beside her.

Her smile fell from her lips and she rolled her eyes. “You always do.”

“It’s like you need us to make fun of you,” added Annabeth, squinting her eyes at the blond.

“I think he does, Annie,” snickered Y/N, earning a sharp jab in the side from Percy. She frowned at him, kicking his feet under the table. The boy huffed, glaring her way.

“Shoot,” interrupted the satyr, a note of panic seeping into his tone as he witnessed the exchange.

“I’ve never been to Los Angeles before,” stated Percy, his gaze shifting between the three of them. “I’m guessing neither of you have been to Los Angeles.”

Y/N shook her head. She had never been anywhere in the world, apart from the wild pinetree forest where she spent the first few years of her childhood growing up, Manhattan and Camp Half-Blood. She could still recall the fresh, raw smell of pines and the crunching of leaves under her feet. Her senses still remembered the feeling of home. As if she had never left it. A shudder passed her, as fragments of her nightmare resurfaced once again.

“So, how will we have any idea where we’re going?”

Grover shrugged. “No idea.”

“We can always acquire a map,” piped in Y/N. 

Percy panned his gaze onto her. His eyebrows pinched together. “We can’t read maps.”

She rolled her eyes for the second time that day. “I’m well aware, kelp head, thank you.” A small smile blossomed on her lips as she turned to look at the satyr. “Grover can read it for us.”

A look of remorse passed on Grover’s face, his lips curling in an apologetic smile and his eyes softening. “I’m not great with maps either, actually.”

Y/N blinked. “Well, then–”

“But that’s like step thirty-seven, and we’re still on step four. Cross that bridge when we get there,” he continued in a reassuring, warm tone, nodding his head. 

Percy slightly nodded his head along, his eyebrows still furrowed. “Follow-up stupid question.”

“Dude,” Annebeth sighed, rolling her eyes.

“And you shall fail to save what matters most in the end. Back in Jersey, I told you the Oracle said this quest will fail. And no one’s mentioned it since,” he said, gazing at Y/N. “Seems like something we oughta be taking more seriously…” His voice trailed off, as he caught a glimpse of outside behind Y/N’s shoulder, his lips parting. “Hey. Look at that. Are those–”

Y/N turned her head towards the window. Four centaurs were galloping alongside the train, on rolling green fields, carrying arrows and bows. Y/N quirked up a smile at the sight of them. This was the first time she was seeing centaurs outside the protective barrier of Camp Half-Blood. She still vividly remembered meeting Chiron for the first time. Words had died in her throat as she took in his hooves and four legs. Wonderstruck, she had asked if he was a horse (“And if you are a horse, does that mean I can ride you? I’ve never ridden a horse before, or saw one for that matter! You’re the first, mister Chiron.”). Alas, she was much younger back then. And much more naive. 

“Centaurs,” she and Annabeth said in unison. She threw her best friend a small smile. 

Percy looked around the dining car, confusion lacing his features. “No one even knows they’re there.”

“They can’t see through the Mist,” explained Y/N, tearing her gaze away from the centaurs and towards Percy.  “Unlike us. Few mortals do.”

“There used to be herds of them everywhere,” voiced Grover, wistfully glancing outside the window.

“What happened to them?”

“Humans.” He sighed, eyes downcast. “A few thousand years ago, the god of the wild, Pan, disappeared. And ever since, without Pan to protect the natural world, humans have been trying really hard to chip away at it.” 

“The bravest satyrs volunteer to become Searchers, trying to find Pan,” added Athena’s daughter, knowledge dripping down her tongue. “None have ever returned.”

A thick tension fell upon them, like a heavy winter blanket. 

“Your uncle we found in Medusa’s, Ferdinand,” said Percy, closely watching his best friend. “He was a Searcher?”

Grover only nodded. Y/N’s heart grew heavy at the sight of him, quiet with his lips curled downwards. She tipped her head sideways, catching his gaze, and she smiled his way. He softly smiled back. 

“The Oracle didn’t say the quest would fail,” voiced Annabeth, raising her eyebrows. “Fail to save what matters the most. That could mean a lot of things. That’s how prophecies work, that’s how fate works. It could mean a lot of things. The harder you work to understand, the harder it gets to understand.” She shook her head, her dark locks swaying. “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta let it come to you when it’s ready.”

“Excuse me. Can I see your tickets, please?”

Y/N jumped in her seat, turning her head towards the voice. She immediately frowned upon seeing a police officer asking for train tickets. Didn’t they have a conductor for that?

She opened her mouth to retaliate, but upon seeing Annabeth subtly shaking her head, she shut it back down. She watched as her friend took out their tickets out of her jacket pocket, handing them to the officer. He glanced down at the tickets, before snapping his gaze back to Annabeth. “You’re in Cabin 17B?”

The hair on her neck stood up and Y/N felt that familiar fire travelling through her veins. “Yes. Is there a problem, officer?”

She felt someone kick her under the table and she briefly acknowledged that someone as being Percy but she ignored him this time, holding eye contact with the police officer. The man only sighed through his nose and waved them to follow him. She shared a look of confusion with her friends, pursing her lips in thought. Her stomach twisted in knots as they followed him out the dining car and through the corridor. He swiftly pushed open the door and a cold draft hit her, chilling her to the bones. The wind whistling reached her ears and her mouth fell open as she took in the disarray state in which their cabin was in. The window was smashed open, sharp glass glinting dangerously on the floor. The mattresses were thrown across and turned up-side down, the white sheets fluttering in the wind. The pillows were strewn across the cabin. 

“You wanna explain?” asked the officer as he pointed towards the chaos. 

Y/N snapped her gaze towards him, the air stuck somewhere in her throat. “What is there to explain? Someone clearly vandalised our cabin!”

The man only raised his eyebrows at her.

“Wait. Wait, you think we did this?” asked Percy in disbelief, turning his whole body towards the officer. 

“Did you?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “What gave you that idea? The fact that we are kids?”

“I mean– How? And why?” added Percy, taking a step closer, his shoulder lightly touching Y/N’s. 

“Sir, when we left to get breakfast, everything was intact,” intervened Grover, his voice calm but his eyes frantic. “We don’t know how this happened.”

“We got a witness here, says she heard the window smash, and then heard children’s voices.”

Y/N looked over the officer’s shoulder. A woman with long, lush brown hair was talking to another police officer, waving her hands around. She was wearing a light pink blazer, which to Y/N looked expensive enough to seem out of place in a Second Class train wagon. She shifted her gaze back to their own cabin and took a step towards it.  A hand shot out in front of her, colliding with her waist. 

The police officer hardened his gaze. “Do not enter, kid.”

Y/N frowned. “Why? Now I am not allowed to enter my own cabin?”

The man clenched his jaw but let her pass. She fisted her hands and crouched near the window. There were a million shards sticking into the carpeted floor and glimmering in the just risen sun. She frowned as she took hold of one. It bit into her finger, drawing blood. She winced and raised the finger to her lips, a metallic taste invading her mouth. There were way too many shards for the window to have been broken from inside. Someone must have done it from the outside. Someone or something. 

She got up, her eyes catching sight of a slashing mark left on the wall. It stretched across it, in dark and wide lines. She absently acknowledged Percy exclaiming in the background, his voice strained in frustration.

“Can you tell me what time you left the cabin?” interrogated the police officer.

Y/N turned around, her gaze immediately meeting Annabeth’s hardened one. 

“Are we under arrest?”

The officer backed up, frowning. “I don’t think you wanna take that tone with me, little girl.”

“Are we under arrest?” she repeated, her voice raising. 

The officer huffed and crossed his arms as he glared down at Annabeth. Y/N’s mouth twitched and she marched towards him, her eyes clouding in white hot anger. “No, no, she asked a good question. Are we under arrest?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Turns out we are under arrest,” huffed Y/N as she fell into her seat beside Percy, back in the dining car. Her arms were crossed, and she was tapping her foot impatiently. Her blood was boiling in her veins. The train was speeding down the tracks, the sun now suddenly covered by clouds that weren’t there before. 

Percy glanced at her as he gulped, before he shifted his gaze towards the policeman now speaking with the supposed witness. He was jotting down on a small, black agenda, taking her statement.  “So, we’re just killing time ‘till we find out that guy’s like a werewolf or something, right?”

“Werewolves don’t exist, kelp head.”

Percy shifted in his seat as he felt the fury radiating from Y/N in scorching waves.

Annabeth glanced behind her shoulders at the officer. 

A static voice filled the car, announcing the next station. They were soon arriving at St. Louis Gateway in ten minutes. Y/N thought that was as good a time as any to get off that cursed train and try their luck somewhere else. She would even go on foot if it meant she wouldn’t see that police officer again. 

“I don’t think he’s a monster,” replied Annabeth in a whisper. 

“Hard to say,” said Grover. 

“He’s definitely an idiot,” added Y/N, as she burned holes into the police officer’s head. 

“Well, if he’s not a monster, what’s going on here? Why would anyone tear our room apart?”

“Maybe they were looking for something,” suggested Grover, throwing Y/N a worried glance. The girl only sighed through her nose as she tore her gaze away.

“We don’t have anything,” answered Percy.

Annabeth slightly leaned over the table, meeting Percy’s eyes. “The people who think you stole Zeus’s master bolt might disagree.”

Percy shifted his gaze away, blinking. “Right,” he replied, dejected.

The train horn blared, and Y/N shook away some of her stupor at the sound of it. She straightened in her seat. 

“Well, look, they’re not gonna find something we don’t have,” Grover hastily replied, shaking his head. 

“Either way, we aren’t spending the day answering questions in the St. Louis police station,” added Athena’s daughter, frowning.

“Or anywhere for that matter”, mumbled Y/N.

“We need to get out of this before we get delayed,” continued Annabeth, panic lacing her features. 

“I agree,” voiced Y/N as she uncrossed her arms. “We get off the train and take another or…” Her voice faded as she saw that woman tapping Annabeth gently on her shoulder. She was bearing a wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and Y/N felt a shiver travel down her spine at the sight of it. 

“D-do you mind if I sit?”

Y/N roamed her eyes over her, taking in her clean appearance. Her teeth were pearly white and her clothes were ironed to perfection. She definitely did not spend the night on the train, and as far as she knew, the train didn’t have any stops during the night. She was carrying a pet carrier. It was slightly shaking, whimpering sounds coming from inside of it. 

Y/N raised her gaze towards the woman and smiled a strained smile. “We do, in fact.”

The woman disregarded her reply as she took a seat beside her, pushing her towards Percy. Y/N huffed in annoyance, shifting as her thigh grazed his. “You poor dears. Your parents aren’t here, are they?”

Sounds of whining came from the pet carrier and Y/N shared a look with Annabeth.  Suspicion simmered in her dark eyes and Y/N gave a small nod. 

“Isn’t that right, precious?” the woman said, as she bent towards the bag with the smile still etched on her face. “Don’t children get scared when they’re all alone?” She straightened her back, shifting her gaze between the four of them. Y/N scooted closer to Percy once she felt her shoulder touching the woman’s.  

“It’s okay. I’m a mom. I know how scared you must be,” she smiled Y/N’s way. 

Y/N’s eyebrows twitched in a small frown. 

“Excuse me. Would you mind giving us a little space?” the stranger asked the police woman standing guard near them. “I think– I think you’re making them nervous.”

“I don’t think she’s the one making us nervous,” Y/N muttered, her lips scowling in disdain.

“Did you say something, dear?”

Y/N plastered a tight-lipped smile on her face. “Nothing.”

The woman closely regarded her, smiling back. There was something sinister about her smile. Something that chilled Y/N to the bones. “You must be the rebel kind.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up to the top of her head. “Sorry?”

“The child who’s angry at the world and therefore rebels.” Her lips pouted. “I would know. I am a mother after all.”

Y/N shifted under her heavy gaze. She felt Annabeth nudge her foot and she raised her eyes to meet hers. Annabeth’s gaze shone with kindness and unspoken reassurance  and Y/N knew that if she could, her friend would have squeezed her by the hand. 

“I want you to know… I don’t actually think that you made that mess back there,” the woman nodded. 

“Really? And then what did you even tell the officers?” replied Y/N, her voice dripping with acid poison. 

“I just wanted a moment alone with you. There are some things I need you to understand–”

“You have something on your jacket,” interrupted Grover, his eyes pinned to the pink blazer the woman was wearing. 

Y/N moved her gaze towards it. Something was glimmering, catching the faint, morning light. The sun was still hidden away behind clouds, but a few rays braved them. 

“It looks like– It looks like glass.”

She reached towards the small shard, pinching it between two fingers and taking out of the blazer. A white, thin thread stuck to it. The shard tore into her tissue, a droplet of crimson blood bubbling up and streaming downwards her skin. “It is glass.”

“No one smashed out the windows from inside our cabin.” Grover’s voice hardened as his gaze never left the stranger’s, realisation dawning on him. “Someone smashed them in from the outside.”

“It was you,” added Y/N, her voice trembling with notes of anger. “You tore our cabin apart.”

The woman hummed, her smile faded by now. Grunts and whimpers shook the pet carrier and she shifted her attention towards it, rising from the seat and crouching in front of the bag. “Yes, sweetheart. I know, I know. You’re impatient.”

Whatever was in the bag snarled and Y/N’s eyes widened upon hearing it. “There’s no dog in there, is it? It’s something else. Something bigger.”

The stranger rose up and turned towards her, smiling that bone-chilling smile. “Well, aren’t you perceptive?” She shook her head, shrugging. “This isn’t your fault. But sadly, you’re going to have to bear the burden of your parents’ mistakes today.”

Percy’s voice didn’t waver as he spoke up, eyes darkening, determination written on his face. “Listen, lady. I don’t know who you are, but I think I know what you are. We’ve run across a few monsters like you and we sent them all packing.”

The woman scoffed, still smiling. “Monsters like me?” She tilted her head. “Well… of course they’re like me.” Her smile fell off her face and her gaze hardened. “They were my children.”

Y/N froze as goosebumps raked her arms. 

“Children?” asked Percy, shifting in his seat. “What does that mean?”

The satyr straightened his back. “The Mother of Monsters.”

“Echidna,” explained Annabeth, her lips parting. 

The woman smiled at the mention of her name, her eyes glinting. 

The pet carrier rattled and growled. Echidna turned towards it, her hand reaching out to caress it much like a mother would embrace her child. She calmed the monster down, her voice coming in comforting shushes and Y/N started at the familiar look in her eyes. She saw it in her mother’s and aunt’s gazes whenever they used to look at her. Looks of warmth and nurture. 

“Monster. It’s an odd word, considering my grandmother is your great-grandmother, and this has always been a family story” said Echidna, leaning on the table behind her, but still staying close to the pet carrier. Her smile appeared on her face, stretching her lips wide  and showing her sharp pearly white teeth. “But… to my eye, the demigod is the more dangerous creature. Disruptive. Violent. If I exist for anything, it is to stand in the way of monsters like you.” 

The monster inside the bag growled once again, and for a split moment Y/N thought she was hearing the two-headed dog from four years ago, standing in the pouring rain, outlined only by the flashing lightning. Her breath hitched and she backed into her seat, eyes glued to the pet carrier.

“My little one here. She’s just a pup now. Bless her heart,” Echidna chuckled, laying a mothering hand on the bag. “Today… you will be her prey.”

Y/N gulped and she felt Percy stiffen beside her. 

“Are you afraid yet? Oh, it’s all right. Fear is natural. It’s also essential to the hunt. Your fear. Your doubt. Your confusion. I needed  you to understand what was happening so that she could track your scent.’ Y/N was suddenly hyper-aware of the blood dripping down her finger, of its scent lingering in the air. “So that she could learn and grow, because that’s what a good mother does for her children.”

The bag unzipped, furious growling filling the air. Y/N breathed in, her hands twitching, well aware she wasn’t able to use her bow and arrows in such a proximity. She was cursing the day she chose to learn archery, instead of sword fighting.

“Not that you would know,” continued Echidna, her face now devoid of any emotion. 

Y/N’s jaw clenched and she saw red before her eyes. She did know. And she had a feeling Percy did too.

The bag opened with a whoosh. Y/N squinted her eyes and she realised that whatever was in that bag, had a sharp tail.

“You should run now,” smiled Echidna. 

“Duck!” yelled Y/N, as she leaned over with her hands sheltering her head. A draft of air rustled the hair from the crown of her head and she heard a resounding stab near her. Pained screeching followed and she raised her head to see Annabeth sticking her dagger into the monster’s tail. 

“Go!”

Y/N shot up from her seat and bolted towards the door, slamming it open. She sprinted down the corridors, almost sliding as she went. Padded footsteps told her the others were close by.

“You! Stop! Stop!”

Her teeth grinded together as she recognised the policeman’s voice. The train shuddered and she stumbled, falling into a door compartment. She looked over the shoulder, seeing Annabeth lock the door behind them. 

“Percy!” Grover exclaimed, his voice wavering. He reached out to take something glittering out of Percy’s green shirt. 

Y/N frowned and she leaned closer. 

“What is that?” panted Percy.

“It’s a stinger,” replied Annabeth, running up to them. 

“It got to you?” asked Y/N, her eyes wide as she stared up at Percy. The boy only swallowed as he held eye contact with her. A grimace flashed across his face.

“Grover, do you know what kind of monster has one of those?”

“I don’t know. I mean, nothing good probably.”

“Do you feel okay?”

Percy moved his gaze off Y/N onto Annabeth. His breathing turned heavy and he was clutching his shoulder, his eyes widened. “I think so. Why? Do you think it’s poisonous or something?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Annabeth, studying the stinger. 

Y/N sighed through her nose, her eyes flashing. “I told you to duck! Why are you never listening?!”

Percy snapped his gaze back onto her, eyebrows furrowing. “Why are you always ordering me around?”

She scoffed. “Would you prefer for me to leave you to die?”

“Guys, is this really the best time?” asked Annabeth as she looked behind her at the officers banging on the door. The train whined and stumbled forward before slowing down. The sound of approaching, thunderous steps shook the train. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as a door’s window shattered, the metal creaking and the lights flickering. Familiar growling reached her ears and she took a stumbling step back. 

“We gotta move!”

They rushed through the corridors, out of the train and over the train tracks, hurried steps raising dust and leaving traces behind. They came to a stop once they didn’t hear the growling anymore. 

“Why isn’t it still chasing us?” heaved Percy. 

Y/N inhaled a breath of air as she doubled over. 

“Echidna said whatever she was hiding in that carrier, it’s young. It won’t venture too far from her mother. She’s learning to hunt and this seems like the hunting part,” explained Athena’s daughter, fear clouding her eyes.

“Great,” muttered Y/N as she straightened her back, a faint pain stabbing her in the side. “Let’s go, we can’t stay here.”

Soon the train tracks were replaced by streets and buildings. The occasional raw green of trees popped up between the gray of buildings and concrete as Y/N marched down the street, her hand now gripping her bow. Her mind was reeling and there was a hurry in her steps. 

“We aren’t gonna be able to outrun them for very long,” said Grover, struggling to keep up with her. 

“I know,” replied Y/N, her knuckles turning white on the bow.

“We don’t need to,” intervened Annabeth. “We just need a safe place to hole up.”

“Some place safe,” added Percy. “Any ideas where we might find one of those?”

Y/N spared him a glance. He was much paler than a few minutes ago, his lips turning an alarming shade of purple. He glanced back at her once he felt her gaze on him and she blinked before looking forward. 

“I do,” said Annabeth, her voice confident and steady. She skipped a few steps ahead, now leading the group. “A sanctuary, dedicated to Athena, built by one of her demigod children a long time ago.”

“There is an Athenian temple hidden somewhere in the middle of downtown St. Louis?” asked the satyr, disbelief written on his face.

“Yes. Except it’s not all that hidden.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A wide arch stretched towards the sky, bending and shining under the sun. To Y/N’s eyes, it looked like an unfinished bow and she grinned upon seeing it. 

“It’s 630 feet wide, 630 feet tall, both to within an inch. It’s got no internal support. Each side is balanced perfectly against the other. The arch is held up by symmetry. It’s held up by math,” said Annabeth as they entered the Gateway Arch, a sparkle in her eyes and her voice filled with pride and wonder. “And it’s earthquake-proof, so Poseidon can’t ruin it.”

“Impressive,” said Y/N, sending her best friend a smile. Annabeth smiled back.

“Nice,” added Percy. 

Annabeth excused herself as she made her way through a crowd of students on a school trip and Y/N wondered for a split second what it would have been like if they were simply just kids, visiting a monument with the class. “This is how you show Athena your love. A monument to the power of perfection.”

“It’s a monument to some other stuff, too,” replied Grover, looking towards an animal skull and a rifle put on display. 

Y/N’s smile fell off her face at the sight of them and she worriedly glanced at him. His eyes were glued to the skull and his jaw clenched. It was the first time she ever saw Grover harden his face. Whenever she thought of the satyr (which was much more often when he was away from Camp, as her mind worriedly travelled to one of her few friends) she thought of a face warmed by the sun, a face lightened by a soft smile. She tried catching his gaze in an attempt to reassure him, but he avoided any eye contact. 

“You’re talking about what some humans want this place to be about. I’m talking about what it actually is.”

“Annie,” Y/N gently called out, slowly shaking her head.

Annabeth met her gaze and softly sighed. 

“Whatever,” replied Grover, looking around. “We’re safe here, right?”

“No monsters can enter. Not even Echidna. We’re safe.”

“Great. Well, since our train exploded, I’m gonna see if there’s another one we can get tickets on. We can’t stay here forever.” Grover’s gaze slid to a picture hung on the museum wall, depicting two horse riders hunting a bison, holding a pair of rifles.  “Just because we’re prey, doesn’t mean we need to be helpless.”

“Do you need help with that? I can come with you,” offered Y/N, mustering what she hoped would be a kind smile.

“No, it’s alright," replied the satyr, before walking off.

A silence stretched for a few seconds before Percy spoke up, walking around and letting his eyes travel the size of the room. “He doesn’t like it when people mess with animals.”

“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at him, I just–” Annabeth sighed. “I know.” Her gaze shifted between her best friend and Percy before she took a step back. “I’ll go help him out. Even if he said he didn’t need any help.” 

“Right,” nodded Percy.

She sent Y/N a pointed look that screamed “Behave!” as she walked away. The girl just rolled her eyes in reply. A thick silence fell between her and Percy and Y/N crossed her arms, taking in the sight of the small museum. 

“So, uh, this is Athena’s place, huh?” she heard Percy ask as he shuffled his feet.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was looking around, slightly swaying on the spot. 

“Apparently so,” replied Y/N, frowning as Percy took in a laboured breath.

“Wonder if she’s around.”

“I doubt it.”

“Be right down, just going to the potty,” said Percy in a squeaky voice, attempting a posh, British accent.

A smirk tugged at Y/N’s lips and she turned fully towards him. “Charming.”

“I have a gift,” smiled Percy.

“Who told you that?”

“My mom.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered and she uncrossed her arms. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Percy just shrugged, a sadness swirling in the ocean of his eyes.

“I know how you’re feeling.” 

She did. When her mother fell sick, she lived in a constant state of waiting. Waiting for her to live, waiting for her to die. Waiting for someone or something to give her a sign. A small flicker of hope. And when her mother took her last breath, Y/N felt as if she had lost a part of herself, as if someone had taken her from her. Afterwards, everything was a blur. She didn’t remember the first month after her mother’s passing, nor did she recall the funeral. But she remembered the rage that had clawed its way into her heart. 

Percy’s eyes locked onto hers. “You do?”

“Yes.”

He just nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too.”

Percy waved his hand around. “This is a temple, right? You can pray to him. Like you did back at the Camp.”

“I’m past praying.” She moved her eyes away from him, already feeling that rush of fire taking over her and clouding her mind in red wrath. “I’ve prayed enough. He doesn’t seem to listen.” She turned her eyes back on Percy, who was closely watching her, his pale lips parted. “But maybe you should try. Maybe Poseidon will listen.”

Percy’s gaze fell on the floor. “No thanks.”

“Why not?”

He took in a shuddering breath, as he raised his ocean eyes to hers. “My father…He… I don’t want anything from him, not like you do. He’s had his chances. You’ve done a lot more for me in the past few days than he ever did, even if you annoyingly love to order everyone around. But I’ve seen you do it with care and if I’d had to stick to someone, I–”

He fell silent.

“What? You’d stick with me? Is that what you were about to say, seaweed brain? You don’t even know me.”

“I wouldn’t stick only with you. The others, as well,” he swallowed.

She squinted at him. “Right. And if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were thanking me for ordering you around but—” She stopped short once she noticed his uneven breathing. The vibrant ocean in his eyes was now a dull shade of blue and the once now tanned skin was ghostly white, the freckles prominently spotting his cheeks and nose. There were dark eye bags that weren’t there before. “Hey, are you feeling alright?”

He nodded before he collapsed. Y/N latched onto him just before he hit the floor. “Woah! Easy there!”

Thundering footsteps announced her friends’ presence and she grimaced as she struggled to keep Percy upwards.

“Hey! What happened?”

“I think– I think those stinger things were poisonous,” croaked out the blond as he gave up and slid down on the floor. 

Y/N’s frantic eyes met Annabeth’s. Her friend only reached towards Percy, taking him by the arm. “I have an idea. Come on, help me.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Standing in a fountain wasn’t something that Y/N had on her bucket list. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t even spared the idea a thought. But there she was, crouching in front of Percy in the middle of the fountain, spraying him in the face with water. She scrunched her nose in disgust. The water fountain wasn’t very clean. Not like the creeks in the woods. Not like the one behind the cabin. 

“You look awful, seaweed brain,” she said in an attempt to raise his spirits, her tone teasing. 

The boy met her gaze, pain twisting his face. He inhaled a sharp breath. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled as she threw a handful of water onto his face. He coughed it out.

“The water cured him back at Camp, it should work for poison too, right?” asked Annabeth as she splashed water onto him from the side. 

“Right, but I don’t think it’s working, Annie,” replied Y/N, sharing a worried look with Grover. She looked back at Percy. He was blinking the water out of his eyes, breathing heavily, his chest rising up and down in an effort to ground himself. 

“You know, I think it’s– I think it’s working,” he eventually breathed out, his voice scratchy. “This was a great call.”  He grimaced as he leaned his weight on his hand and tried getting up, only to fall back into the water not even a second later. “Or not.”

“Maybe it needs to be naturally running water for Poseidon to be able to heal him,” deduced Annabeth.

Y/N opened her mouth, her mind sparkling with an idea. Wasn’t the Mississippi river just behind them? A car honking interrupted her train of thoughts. It slid down the road, tires screeching before it spun out of control and crashed, the widows shattering, coating the street with sparkling glass.

“Okay. We need to get back inside,” said Annabeth, an urgency in her tone.

“No, we need to keep trying!” replied Grover.

“This isn’t working and she’s coming!”

“Grov, listen to me,” said Y/N, her voice firm and authoritative. “We can’t be any help to Percy if we’re killed, can we?”

The satyr’s eyebrows frowned in regret and he sighed. Another car honked, police sirens wailing in the distance. Y/N snapped her head around. Echidna was advancing towards them with steady steps and a smile stretching on her face. 

“Gods,” Y/N mumbled, a cold fear scratching at her neck, raising her hair. 

“Okay, look, we’ll take Percy inside and we’ll go to the temple’s altar,” voiced Annabeth, getting up. 

“Altar? Where is there an altar?” asked Grover, standing up, water dripping down his arms.

“The highest point, the best view.”

Y/N’s gaze locked onto Percy’s and she sighed through her nose. Her hands reached out to him, latching around his shoulder and arm. “At three, okay, seaweed brain?”

The boy nodded.

“One, two, three!” She pulled him up, heaving as her Converse almost slipped on the wet floor of the fountain, water sloshing around them. Percy breathed out as he leaned his whole weight on her and she almost staggered. 

“Okay, but what good is that even gonna do us?”

“We’re gonna get to the altar and we’re going to ask my mom for help,” replied Annabeth, a note of finality in her voice.

“I thought we don’t ask for help,” said Percy, looking at her. 

Another car honking and skidding down the path. 

“Come on, let’s get moving.”

Grover took hold of Percy’s other arm, putting it around his neck. Together they jumped out of the fountain, landing with a splash on the concrete. Percy swayed before Y/N put her arm around his back, steadying him. “Gods, kelp head, you weigh like lead.”

“Sorry,” he grimaced, leaning all his weight on the satyr. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop leaning on me, did I?” she said, pulling him back onto her.

“Guys, d–did you hear that?” asked Annabeth, her voice shaking. She was trailing behind, looking towards Echidna. 

Y/N’s footsteps faltered and she frowned, turning toward her best friend.

“Hear what?” questioned Grover.

The girl remained silent for a second, her eyes flickering between the three of them. There was a confusion and a familiar sadness simmering in her gaze, one that Y/N got to know in the time she befriended Annabeth. During camp fires, and quiet nights when the nightmares became too much, during fiery sunsets at the edge of the Camp, near Thalia’s pine tree.  “Annie?”

Annabeth only hastily shook her head. “Never mind. Come on.”

They rushed to the entrance, hastened steps slowed down by Percy’s weight. They dodged crowds and made their way into a tram. Y/N, with the help of Grover, let Percy fall gently into a seat, before she settled next to him. The fluorescent blue light of the tram coloured his face in the shades of a million oceans, illuminating his now discoloured freckles and dark indigo circles under his tired eyes. He was panting and Y/N realised that speaking hurt him, as well. 

“What was that back there? What did you hear? She spoke to you. Alecto did that with me back in the museum in New York. What did she say?” he asked Annabeth. 

Y/N’s gaze moved onto her friend, watching her closely. She was avoiding her gaze, her lips parted and eyebrows slightly furrowed. And Y/N knew then that what she must have heard had to do with one of her many wounds. The kind that only cut deep when growing up with the absence of a mother. One that Y/N knew all too well. “Annie, did she–” But the sound of growling froze her and she snapped her head towards it. Echidna had just entered the museum with her head held high and back straightened in pride and silent rage. The shadow of a monster with two sharp horns was stretching on the wall. Y/N gaped as the tram’s door slid closed, fear paralysing her body, her mind going in overdrive. The tram jolted and started to ascend. 

“Was that the Chimera?” whispered Grover, shock painting his features. “I think– I think that was the Chimera! 

“It was the Chimera,” replied Y/N, still staring at the closed door. 

“How did the Chimera even get inside here? How did any monster get inside here?”

“Annabeth?” called Percy, trying to stay upright but failing. His breathing was shallow. Y/N could hear it near her ear. 

She shifted her eyes on Annabeth. Her best friend was still staring down at the floor, blinking and furrowing. She caught her gaze. Shame was painting her cheeks in a dusty pink and her eyes turned into a dark pool of sorrow. 

“We’re in a sanctuary. Athena would have had to let her in, but why would she do that?”

“Annabeth! What did Echidna say to you?” asked Percy, frustration building in his tone.

She sighed through her nose. “She said my impertinence wounded my mother’s pride. And that that will be my doom.”

Y/N’s lips parted. “No…” she muttered in realisation, guilt starting to eat at her stomach. She clenched her fists on her knees.  

Percy started shaking his head, eyebrows creasing together. “Impertinence? What kind of–” His face softened, eyes widening. “Medusa’s head.”

“I embarrassed my mother.”

Now there was a hole in Y/N’s stomach, a glowing deep red flashing beneath her eyelids. “But how’s that possible? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m the one who sent the head to Olympus,” added Percy, crouching in pain. A drop of water fell from his hair onto his forehead as he shook his head. “I signed the note. Only mine and Y/N’s names were on it.”

“And I went along with it!” flared up Annabeth. “It embarrassed her. Now, she’s angry.”

Y/N shook her head, remorse lacing her features. Her hand itched as it wanted to reach out for her friend’s, but the guilt handcuffed her, tying her to a surging anger and a deep flowing regret. 

“Guys, what are we gonna do?” inquired the satyr, eyes downcast.

“She isn’t gonna help us when we get to the top to save Percy.”

“No, I meant what are we gonna do about Echidna and Chimera?” emphasised Grover, looking between them. “They’re gonna be right behind us!”

“We’re gonna fight,” answered Y/N, feeling the curving of the bow on her back.

The tram slowed to a stop, its door opening with a ding. 

“We’re not gonna have much time. They’ll be up here any minute. And if my mother isn’t going to protect us, then we’ll just have to fight it up here,” said Annabeth as she came out the tram, putting her bag around her shoulders, determination glinting in her eyes.

Y/N followed her out, marching up the stairs. She came to an abrupt stop, as chatter filled her ears. Tourists crowded the top of the Gateway Arch, smiling and pointing towards the view. 

“Oh, no,” voiced the satyr from beside her, steadying Percy up. “We gotta get everybody out of here.”

Y/N swallowed, looking around the room before a wailing alarm slashed the air, blaring and whining. She jumped at the sound of it, before she felt the warm hand of her friend on her shoulder, guiding her along. “You and Percy follow them down.”

Y/N frowned, stopping in her tracks, implanting her soles into the floor, letting them grow roots there. “Absolutely not!”

“What? No, no, no. W-we’re not splitting up,” agreed Grover, shaking his head.

Annabeth sighed, taking him by the arm and pushing him down the hallway. “Grover, come on.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, we’re all getting out of here together,” breathed out Percy, his lips by now cracked and dry. 

“We won’t make it. Someone has to stay back and slow her down and buy everyone some time.”

“And that someone has to be you?” retorted Y/N with a frown etched on her face.

“Yes. It’s the only way.”

“Well, then, I’m coming with you.”

“What? No.”

“I’m coming with you, Annie. Whether you like it or not. Whether you want to or not. We’re in this together,” Y/N replied, taking her by the hand. She gave it a comforting squeeze. 

The girl opened her mouth in protest, but fell silent upon seeing the lightning in Y/N’s gaze. 

“You’re not Thalia,” continued Y/N, her tone harsh. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

A look of understanding passed between them and Annabeth’s frown softened. She nodded and squeezed Y/N’s hand back. “Come on.” She pushed the boys down the stairs. “Okay, help him down the stairs and get him to the river. And don’t stop. Not ‘till you get to Hades, not ‘till you have the bolt. Do you hear me?”

The blond started to shake his head, his eyes moving between the girls, his mouth hanging open in clear panic.

“Okay, go,” urged Annabeth.

“It’s not negotiable,” voiced Y/N, staring down at Percy. 

He inhaled a breath of air to reply before a shot of pain made him cower and grimace. 

“You need to get to the river. We’ll be fine, seaweed brain. We’re tough girls.”

“But–”

“Just listen to me this once,” she cut him off. “Trust me.” 

She sent him a small smile and started closing the door, her other hand still in Annabeth's. 

“Wait! Take this,” said Percy, taking a pen out of his pants pocket. A metallic ringing tinkled in the air. A golden, glowing sword materialised in Percy’s hand and he held it out for Y/N to take. She hesitated. “Keep it, you’ll need it, seaweed brain.”

“You need it more than me now,” he croaked out.

“I have my bow and arrows and Annie has her dagger.”

“Just take it,” he sighed.

She reached out for it, wrapping her hand around the handle. It was smooth to the touch, the metal cooling her hand. “Thank–” But with a grunt, the boy pushed her through the door and down the stairs. Annabeth fell behind her, knocking into her and Y/N lost her footing, crashing into the satyr. She whipped her head around after Grover steadied her, but the door to the panoramic view was already closed.

“Hey! Open this door!” she yelled, banging on it with knuckled white fists. 

“Hey! Percy! Percy, please!” Grover pleadied. 

“Percy, no! Don’t do this. They’ll kill you.”

“You idiot! Open this door right now!” 

Percy’s muffled voice travelled to them through the door. “Poseidon’s never helped me before. He wasn’t gonna start now. I would’ve never made it to Hades. But you can. And now you will.”

She heard enough and with a low grunt, she turned around, marching down the stairs, a scowl curling her lips downwards. 

“Y/N? Where are you going? Y/N!” Grover called out after her but she ignored him, her determined steps carrying her down. Her blood was boiling again and she took out her bow, the wooden curve of it fitting in her hand like the piece of an intricate puzzle. She turned the corner, arriving on the first floor. Her eyes roamed around the room, stopping onto an opened tram. She looked around, seeing a scrawny teenager dressed in the uniform of the museum as he hurried to the exit, the alarm still blaring in the background.

“You!” she called out to him.

The boy turned his head towards her, his gaze fearful. He pointed towards himself. “Me?”

“Yeah, you! You’re gonna make this tram work and ascend towards the top,” she replied, marching up to him, her jaw clenched. 

“B-but, miss, the alarm–”

Her voice turned thunderous, her eyes flashing, as she raised her bow and an arrow. “You will do as I say.”

The teenager stammered, his eyes flickering between her and the weapon before he hastily nodded, rushing towards his working cabin. Y/N followed his example, marching towards the tram. After she entered, it closed with a bang and jolted as it started ascending. She lost her balance, colliding into the wall. With a pained grunt, she rose up as the door opened with a ding. She sprinted out, running up the stairs, her hand gripping her weapon. 

“I knew you were coming, demigod. My little one here sensed your blood,” Echidna’s voice echoed, a malice coating tone. “She said it smelled sweet.”

Y/N panted as she arrived at the top, her heart beating in accord with her heavy breathing. Her gaze flew around the room, seeing no sign of Percy, but a hole into the floor. Flames were licking the floor and walls. Echidna was standing proudly in the middle of the room, the Chimera growling beside her, showing its sharp fangs.

“Where’s Percy? What did you do to him?!” she shouted. 

“Down below. 630 feet below. Are you in a rush to meet his fate?” Echidna replied, cocking her head to the side. “Perhaps that can be arranged.”

The Chimera started advancing towards her, opening its mouth in a loud growl. Y/N shuddered and raised her bow, willing her hand to not tremble. The monster growled once more, its scaly skin catching the light of the flames. A bulb of fire scorched the air towards her and she dodged it, before launching an arrow. It stabbed the Chimera in the neck. It gave out a pained growl and raised its tail to hit her but Y/N let another arrow to slay the air, implanting itself in the tail. 

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” she heard Echidna say. 

Y/N shook her head as another arrow flew, stabbing the Chimera in its chest and drawing blood. The red slits of its eyes widened and the monster gave out a furious growl, raising its paw, sending Y/N across the room. She fell to the ground, hitting her head. She blinked, grunting in pain as she tried getting up. A buzzing filled her ears and blurred lines obscured her vision. Growling reached her ears, padded steps shaking the Arch. Y/N searched herself for more arrows, quickly realising she ran out of them.

“Heroes have short lives,” Echidna’s voice echoed, stepping towards her. “You are no exception. It’s just how the tales go.”

Stinging tears gathered in Y/N’s eyes as she crawled away from the monster. Fear froze her body, her stomach turning into a small knot as a lump blocked the air in her throat.

And then she felt it. 

Something electric seemed to travel through her body, needles pricking her skin. But they didn’t hurt. It was as though someone was caressing her skin, energy leaving in its wake. It was levitating and life-giving. 

She felt very much alive.

And then she finally understood. She understood that her father was the king of the skies and of gods. And that she was his daughter, in every conceivable way. And that despite his long absence, he granted her the power to pick herself up from the cold ground, that his powers and skies were also hers, that he was the sky she grew up under and that even in her most thunderous dreams he chose to show himself in ways she hadn't understood at first.

Her feet lifted from the ground, her eyes glowing purple, and she let the energy welcome her home, her hair ruffling in the wind. She raised a hand, conjuring lightning and directed it at the Chimera. It bashed upon the monster in crackling fire and thunder. The monster whimpered before it charged towards her, its skin burning, smoke swirling into the air. Y/N raised both of her palms and hit the monster with a final lightning. It dissolved into ashes, wind carrying them away. 

“No!” shouted Echidna, her voice breaking. “You monster!”

The wind slowly lowered Y/N to the ground and she blinked the glow out of her eyes. Her hands still crackled with alive energy. “Between the two of us, I think you’re the monster.”

Echidna’s face darkened with a scowl, as she stepped towards Y/N. The girl realised that she preferred her bone-chilling smile. She took a step back. “Above it all, I am a mother. And you took that from me.” 

“You killed Percy!”

The Mother of Monsters steadily advanced towards her, her scowl slowly turning into her sinister smile. Y/N backed away from her until the back of her sneakers stepped onto the edge of nothing. She regained her balance, as she looked over her shoulder. The ground was stretching before her eyes, wind hollowing. 

“Who’s gonna save you now? You have no one. A motherless and abandoned child.”

She whipped her head around. “That’s not true,” she replied, her voice trembling. “My father helped me today!”

Echidna tilted her head at her, still smiling. “Poor you, so naive. I am so sorry, but you took my baby from me.” Her hands clawed out to her, slashing her across the shoulders and pushing her down the open hole into the floor.

And then Y/N was falling. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: So, there it is! We have finally learned about Y/N's father. How do we feel about the big reveal? Did you guys suspect it? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated.

I expect the next chapter won't come out very soon, I'll try my best but I've been very busy lately, with uni especially. I'm graduating this year so it's a tumultuous one. Thank you for understanding x

If you'd like to be added to my main tag list or the series tag list, drop a comment or send me an ask!

Lots of love xx

Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead @asgards-princess-of-mischief @islayhawkin

Series tag list: @mynicknameisgasoline @constellation-archive @leptitlu @br3nt-12 @utterlyunawarewriter @spidermansfangirl

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Auburn

A microfic written for Day 1 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Love is in the Hair - one of those iconic 'wow' moments!

647 words

Rated G

A flash of red catches James Potter’s eye for the very first time.

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

James Potter was twelve years old the first time he really noticed Lily Evans’s hair. Obviously, he’d seen it plenty of times before, just like he’d seen Sirius’s hair or his Mum’s hair. The difference was that he hadn’t ever looked at it properly before. 

The day it happened, he and Sirius were in their usual seats in the Potions classroom, at the bench in the back right corner; the one that was least visible from Slughorn’s desk and therefore offered the most potential for messing about. 

Sluggie had finished his opening lecture on the topic of Swelling Solution - or at least that was what James assumed he’d been talking about, since that was what was written on the board, but he honestly hadn’t heard a word; he’d been too busy scribbling notes to Sirius. In fairness, Swelling Solutions did sound like they could be quite entertaining, and the idea of slipping some into the pumpkin juice at the Slytherin table convinced him that it might be worth actually putting a bit of effort in for once.  

He and Sirius played Spell, Shield, Serpent to decide who had to go and get their ingredients from the supply cupboard. Sirius lost, and made a rude gesture at James as he scraped his stool back along the stone floor. James smirked at him, then started to flick through his textbook looking for the right page, when a flash of red caught his attention; Evans, sitting next to that greasy loser Snape at the bench immediately in front of him, had flipped her hair back over her shoulders.

Her hair, he noticed, was remarkably thick and shiny, and James idly considered asking what Sleekeazy products she used. It was a very unusual colour, too. Auburn, he thought it was called; not an obnoxiously bright red, like the Prewett twins, but a darker, richer shade altogether. It seemed to change as she moved her head, the lamplight creating rose gold highlights and purple-plum shadows amidst the rich chestnut. 

As he watched, she picked up three sections from near the front, and began to weave them together, nimble fingers dancing a fascinating waltz down her head. She deftly pulled more and more strands into the pattern as she went, and the repetitive movement was oddly hypnotic. It left James entranced.

She’d just reached the nape of her neck when Sirius returned.

“How the hell is she doing that?” he muttered. 

“How is who doing what?” asked Sirius, dismissively.

“Evans.” He nodded towards her. “Doing that with her hair, behind her head, without a mirror or a charm or anything.”

“Oh. I dunno. Oi, Evans!” called Sirius. “James wants to know what you’re doing?”

Quite unexpectedly, James felt his skin heat with embarrassment at the thought that Evans might know he’d been looking at her. It was the strangest feeling, one that was completely unfamiliar. James decided that he didn’t like it, not at all. 

Lily shot them a disdainful look as she secured the tail of her hair with a band. “I’m plaiting my hair, obviously. You know, so it doesn’t get in the way while I’m brewing.” She looked pointedly at Sirius’s collar length locks. “Maybe I should teach you?”

Sirius looked horrified. “What? Like a girl? No way!”

Evans rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the ingredients on the bench in front of her. 

“Why are you so interested in Evan’s hair all of a sudden?” asked Sirius, curiously.

“I’m not,” huffed James.

And he wasn’t. He had far more important things to think about after all, like Quidditch trials, for instance, and how he and Sirius were going to sneak their Swelling Solution out of the classroom without Sluggie noticing. Resolute, he started measuring out dried nettles to add to his mortar. He wasn’t going to think about Evans’s hair ever again; he was sure of it.

[beabnormal24]

You got the funk (gets me stupid, gets me drunk) ~ Franco Colapinto/Lando Norris, 6k, E

Or: 6k of Franco giving Lando road head

Lando swiftly glances at the blinking red icon of their position on Franco’s phone screen, a poor resemblance of an arrow if Lando could see it clearly, though that might be an arduous attempt in the complete darkness of this road, no lamplight in sight, nor any other kind of light source except for his dazzlings.

And the ones of the other car almost blinding him, rushing next to them before finally disappearing into the darkness.

Lando hears Franco muffle a sigh next to him.

“What?” He asks, for a second turning his eyes away from the road for a second, enough to take into the sight of Franco stretching his arm across the headrest, looking worriedly at his phone, another maps’ app open on the screen. “What?”

“I think we are lost.”

Lando snorts, releasing the accelerator when he spots a darker shadow on the tarmac in the distance, that might or might not be a hole. It’s better to be safe than sorry, anyway, and, although he might never admit it in front of Alex, he does treat his Camaro like his daughter.

Excuse him, but he freaking paid for her with his own adult money, he would probably cry if he ever saw a scratch on her.

“Yeah, figured.” He mutters, feeling his thighs clench when they pass over the shadow, the bottom of his seat poking into his back for a second before going back to normal. A hole, indeed, then. “I can’t see anything, mate, just bloody trees.”

The greenish tips of a forest surround the car on each side, following their path like faithful hounds, half drowned in the blue darkness of a waxing crescent night, half caught in the yellowish shadows coming from their headlights.

Lando won’t admit that he’s at least a tiny bit scared, mostly because they haven’t really seen anybody aside from that idiot running against twenty speed limits for a while.

Which means that, perhaps, now they are the idiots.

“It’s beautiful.” Franco says, knocking his elbow against Lando’s on the middle armrest. Lando snorts, raising an eyebrow without even looking at him. “No, vale, it’s scary.”

Lando pats his thigh for a second, smirking to himself when it makes Franco jump only slightly in his seat. “How long did the thing say we should stay on this road?”

“Eh,” Franco makes a half-aborted sound, his voice coming out as a squeak, “There is no signal, now. But it said 20 minutes? Maybe 25?”

Lando has to stop himself from closing his eyes and banging his head against the headrest because, well, there’s still a not very smooth road in front of them, he is half sure that they saw a deer’s sign a few miles ago and he can’t see shit past seven feet in front of them.

If he were to hit a deer he is sure that Alex would be able to tell even from miles away and come and get Lando’s head himself, even if Lando would probably already be curled up in a ball on the asphalt, crying and swearing he would never drive again.

And he also wouldn’t want to scare Franco, of course.

He groans, instead, gripping the steering wheel with a hand and swiftly avoiding the upcoming hole on the right side, wheel just catching the edges of it. “Shit that’s a lot of time.”

“You didn’t tell me that Carlos liked living in the countryside.” Franco says, slumping against his own seat. “Wasn’t he like- rich?”

Lando is only half jealous about not being the one just sitting there in the car and doing nothing. But allegedly, he would never let anyone but himself drive his car and, of course, there’s nothing better than getting to see Franco’s profile in the half shadows, the adorable curve of his nose and the plush of his pouty lips.

Franco sits there being the perfect passenger princess all the times, all pretty and silent when Lando is not in the mood, chatty when Lando needs it.

So, really, no complaining at all.

“Yeah, loaded.” He shrugs, leaning his chin over his free hand. The perks of an automatic, especially when he has to drive for so long in a semi-straight line. “But, you know, he and Alex have like tons of horses and dogs and shit, so…”

“Didn’t you say you have horses, too?”

Lando can feel the tips of his ears immediately blooming red. It’s not like he is ashamed in any way, it’s just- “My sisters do horse riding.” He mumbles.

“Rich boy.” Franco singsongs, tapping Lando’s elbow, and even though he knows it’s teasing, Lando can still feel the deep red roots of embarrassment clawing at his cheeks.

He was born in a pretty comfortable household, alright, but he studied to be where he is right now and he swears, he really bought this car with his own money.

He splutters in protest, “I am-“

“Not rich?” Franco interrupts him. When Lando glances swiftly at his face, he has an eyebrow raised, his doe eyes widened in skepticism, though the smile on his lips is still playful. And- when did his mouth get so shiny, again? “This car doesn’t say it, gatito.”

“Would you turn the radio on, please?” Lando chokes out, slapping Franco’s thigh in retaliation, not missing at all the way his skin seems to have gotten warmer all of a sudden, even through the thin fabric of his pants. Uh.

Franco giggles, obviously thrilled by being able to turn Lando into a mushy mess, although if Lando were honest with himself, it’s not even that much of a hardship when you’re Franco.

Even when they had first met, three months ago under the neon purple-blue lights of a gay club Yuki had repeatedly tried to drag him to, and finally managed, he had been so captivated by the sight of Franco that the Argentinian had had to physically close his open mouth with a hand under his chin.

But to his defence, there was not a single functioning brain cell in his head when Franco was looking like that, all long lashes and glinting eyes and pouty glossy lips and freckled chest out on display with the poor excuse of a black mesh T-shirt.

He should not be excused for wanting to bring him back to his place and fuck him into the mattress and then, maybe, when he got to hear Franco’s laugh at one of his very bad jokes, even something more.

Which, to his luck, actually happened.

Franco leans over the console, trying to figure out the controls of the stereo, pressing the button of AFM so insistently that it makes Lando’s eye start to twitch.

“Vamos, carajo!” Franco snaps, adorably scrunching his eyebrows as the fourth consecutive tap of his fingers against the screen does not make the loading indicator disappear. “It doesn’t work! I am trying!”

Lando looks at it quickly, slapping his forehead right after. “Fuck, right, there’s no signal.”

“Oh.” Franco mumbles, flopping back down on his seat. “Yeah, I forgot I said that.”

“Do you want to sing for me, then?” Lando jokes, though if he were completely honest, he doesn’t mind listening to Franco in the shower. Perhaps being almost stranded in a dark forest is not exactly the same, but well- perspectives. “Cumpleanos feliz, cumple-“

Franco snickers, crossing his arms. “That is terrible.”

“Well, sorry if it’s the only one I know in Spanish.” Lando says, just as a row of shadows narrows in front of the car, purplish figures drawn on the asphalt growing thinner just to disappear a second after under his rolling tyres.

He gulps down the sudden knot in his throat, the telltale sensation of freezing goosebumps of fear crawling up his spine as his eyes rake quickly on each side of the dark road.

The yellow lines on the tarmac delimiting the sides seem to be getting more chipped the more they advance through it, the treetops higher, almost as if trying to bend down to cover the sight of their car from outside viewers.

“Despacito? You can’t tell me you don’t know Despacito.” Franco laughs.

Lando can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face, mischievous eyes looking at him from under their lashes, tracing scalding trails over his cheek. It’s kind of comforting, especially when Franco’s hand suddenly drapes over the back of his’ on the armrest, warm and gentle, smaller than his but much softer.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Hey,” Franco’s voice is a soft thing, closer than it was before, and Lando has to shake his head out of his thoughts, suddenly realising he has been staring at the road for way too long without uttering a word. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course, just-“ he gulps down, another shadow disappears under the light cast by the headlights. Long, too long. The trees seem to be suffocating, tightening their grip, tighter, tighter- “Eh, just a bit anxious, you know? It’s the first time you meet my friends properly. I love them, it’s a- a big thing. For me, I mean.”

It’s the first time anybody meets my friends, or I tell my parents about them, honestly. But that, Lando doesn’t say. He tries to let Franco know how much he is special everyday, anyway.

“Mh,” Franco mumbles, clearly unconvinced. “You said Alex can talk to rocks.”

Lando did in fact say that. Not even an hour ago. “Yeah…”

“And Carlos, I mean- we’re the only ones who talk Spanish, si? I can win him easy.”

“They can be a bit too much.”

“Yeah, of course, they are your friends. And you are already too much, and I am already too much. How can they be worse?”

Well, Lando can’t argue against that. “I mean, it’s also that the car-“

“You are scared, eh?” Franco interrupts him, snapping his fingers.

“What? No!” Lando rushes to say. When he turns around, Franco is looking at him, chin propped on his hand and his lips curled into a smirk. He wants to kiss it away, bite his bottom lip and drag his tongue over it. But yeah- right, driving. “Don’t look at me like that, I am not scared. What would make you think that?” He mumbles, turning his attention back to the road.

“You are so red.” Franco teases, and when his fingers come up to pinch at Lando’s cheek, he slaps them away. “You really are scared.”

“Don’t distract me, I am driving.”

“The trees, the dark, right? And we’re alone on this road, for almost half an hour.” Franco says, ignoring him. His fingers resolve to trail down lower, to the column of Lando’s neck, towards the open collar of his shirt. His touch is a soft brush, sending goosebumps all over Lando’s skin every time his nails trace along his birthmarks, and Lando has to shift in his seat when he starts to feel the middle of his thighs tightening dangerously. “You’re scared, gatito, it’s alright.”

“Stop with it.” Lando snaps, though there’s no bite in his voice.

Rivers of shivers run down his spine as Franco’s fingers move to tease the last open button of his shirt, teasing to slip beneath, caressing the space between Lando’s pecs right under his hanging chain necklaces.

Has this road always been this long? What did Franco say? 25 minutes of this?

Lando grits his teeth as he feels a deft finger tugging at his necklace, deciding that enough it’s enough. “Remember who’s the one in charge, Franco.” He says, lowering his voice.

“Oh, trust me I know.” Franco says lascivious. His dancing fingers travel back up to Lando’s free hand, circling his wrist gently before taking it. “I can still feel it from last night, gatito.”

Lando follows his movements blindly – quite literally, since he’s still successfully forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road -, but he can’t help but twitch when his palm comes in contact with the suddenly exposed skin of Franco’s collarbone where he undid the top button.

His fingers are being pressed against it, and Lando traces distractedly the lines of a purplish bite that he left there the night before, biting down right under Franco’s scar as he fucked inside of him, Franco’s tears of pleasure mixing with Lando’s saliva as he kept biting and biting any place available with Franco panting his name into the shell of his ear.

Well, Lando is not proud of the animalistic side of him during sex. But Franco is definitely not against it, so…

“I could feel these all day.” Franco mumbles, just as he forces Lando’s fingers to press yet on another bruise, on his pec, right above his nipple. “Fuck, Lan, you can’t imagine how hot it was. I could feel you biting me and- I feel like I’ve been hard all day.”

Lando gulps again, deciding that it might not hurt to just sneak a peek again, the road is mostly straight, anyway. And when he turns around Franco looks- well, he looks almost like Lando just fucked him then and there, the top half of his shirt open for the world – or the inside of this car – to see, pearly skin all littered in bruises and hickeys the size of Lando’s mouth, his legs spread wide showing the obvious bulge of his dick under his zipper.

“Fuck, Franco.” He exhales, forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose. The fingers gripping at the steering wheel itch with the need to just touch, let them wander along the detailed lines of his chest, pinch his nipple the way he knows makes Franco go crazy.

Stupid fucking road-

“Let me suck you off.”

Lando almost doesn’t see the next hole in the road, too late to do anything about it except for simply slow down, but they both feel it under their butts the moment the car passes over it. And Franco freaking groans.

“WHAT?” Lando screeches, flicking his eyes to Franco just to see the complete seriousness on his face, his façade only broken by the tongue peeking out of the seam of his lips, wetting them. Lando can’t think straight. “Are you out of your mind?”

“For you?” Franco says, letting go of Lando’s hand still pressed to his pecs to bring his own between Lando’s legs and grip. Lando clenches his thighs together, only trapping Franco’s hand further over his groin, his nails unceremoniously tugging at the zipper of his pants to pull it down. “Yeah, completely crazy.”

“Fran-“ Lando tries to protest, but it’s weak as that delicate pale hand that he loves to kiss so much is suddenly unzipping his pants and disappearing under his boxers. It hovers on his already half hard dick, Lando can feel the chill sensation of his skin against it, the telltale sensation of all the blood in his body rushing to down there because that’s the effect Franco – beautiful, adorable, freaking sexy Franco – has on him. “We can’t- I am driving.”

“And you’re so hard for me. So big, I can still feel it in me.” Franco says, circling the base of Lando’s cock with two fingers and slowly tugging upwards. It doesn’t take more than a bunch of seconds for Lando to grow completely hard in his hand, the head of his dick bumping uncomfortably against the inside of his boxers. “And you’re scared.”

Lando doesn’t even try to deny it this time, instead shifting his hips until Franco’s palm is completely pressed against his hard on.

“So let me take care of you, take your mind off of it.”

“I- I am driving.” Lando tries to protest again, but even his body can’t follow his own orders, a spark of electricity running all over him from where Franco is touching him, torturous slowly. “Franco we can’t-“

“Si, we can.” Franco interrupts him. “Are you saying that you don’t like it when I suck you off?”

Fuck, Lando loves it. Franco really has the mouth of someone who’s meant to be good at that, all plump and the arch of his upper lip sharp like a bow that only tenses when it’s wrapped around Lando’s cock.

The road seems to be getting darker, now, Lando thinks at least 5 minutes must’ve passed ever since they lost signal, and he knows for a fact that Franco can manage to rend him to mush in 10.

Is he proud of that? Not really. But is he complaining? Not at all.

“Okay,” he relents, almost jumping when Franco’s hands immediately go to the hems of his pants, “Fuck, wait, wait a second!”

“Uh?” Franco blinks up at him from where his head is already buried between Lando’s legs, confused, his big doe eyes all dazed. “What?”

“Let me take the seatbelt off.” Lando huffs, unfastening it from his chest. “It’ll make it easier.”

It feels weird, driving without it on, he probably hasn’t done it in years, ever since he was a stupid teenager doing stupid drives around with his freshly licensed friends.

His legs feel more free than usual, his movements more unconfined, but he doesn’t really have that much time to adapt to the new sensation as Franco eagerly bends over his lap, button nose pressing against the inside of Lando’s thighs.

Ah, he must’ve taken off his seatbelt, too, at some point. When did that happen, again?

“Raise your hips, I need to take off your pants.” Franco says, trading his fingers through the belt loops.

Lando follows willingly, perhaps already more affected just by the thought of Franco giving him road head than what he would like to admit. He should cut himself some slack, though, since it’s, well- it’s Franco.

And Franco’s warm, slick wet lips suddenly wrapping around the head of his cock.

“Fuck!” Lando shrieks, accidentally pressing his foot harder on the pedal. The car responds accordingly, suddenly picking up speed just to lose it a second after when Lando adjusts his position.

“Don’t kill us.” Franco reprimands, slapping the exposed top of Lando’s thighs. “I am too hot to be already dead.”

“Warn a guy next time.” Lando grits through his teeth, slapping both hands on the steering wheel and gripping tight.

“Alright,” Franco sighs. “I’m going to suck you, now.”

Anything Lando could’ve possibly thought about saying completely evaporates the moment Franco wraps his lips back around him, not even giving Lando the time to adjust to the feeling before he goes down to the hilt.

“Fuckin’-“ Lando stutters out, taking one hand off the steering wheel to trade his fingers through Franco’s soft hair.

His tongue is doing something magical to the bottom of his dick, passing right over a vein on the underside, and then twirling around like Lando is the most delicious lollipop he has ever tasted.

“Fuck, fuck, Franco-“ Lando groans, twisting his fingers in his scalp.

Franco moans around him, the sound wrapping around Lando’s dick like a warm hand, and he can’t help but buck his hips up just slightly.

Franco takes it like it’s nothing, as if Lando wouldn’t see the way the corners of his mouth are stretching obscenely around him if he were to look down- just for a second-

Lando does, a quick flick of his gaze, his sight filled with Franco’s curly head over his lap, the tip of his nose pressed to the top of Lando’s exposed thighs, saliva running down the sides of Lando’s dick as he brings his head up to suck on the head.

The road, yes, the road- okay.

He turns his eyes back to the road just in time for Franco to slip his tongue inside of his lit, fingers wrapping expertedly around Lando’s base and flicking his wrist quickly with each lick.

“Bloody- you take me so well, Fran. Your mouth is so good.” Lando groans, leaning his head on the backrest and clenching his grip on Franco’s curls, guiding his head back down on his cock until Franco’s lips meet the edge of his fist.

It’s wet and it’s warm, and Franco is using his tongue more than usual, swirling and then pressing it to the length of Lando’s dick in a way that must hurt a little bit, and yet he does it like it’s natural.

Lando groans, shifting his hips up until his head touches the back of Franco’s throat, feels him moan brokenly and then moan even louder when Lando tightens his grip in his hair, tugging almost meanly at his curls.

Lando knows that he can take it, though, that he likes it.

Fuck, sometimes Lando still can’t believe it, ever since the first time he got Franco in his bed, how much of a freak Franco can be, trashing and panting every time Lando’s teeth as much as graze one of his nipples.

Lando loves it, especially how wrecked he looks after, all red cheeked and unruly hair and plump lips sticky with mixes of saliva and come. Though this time he hopes it’ll go away before they get to Alex’s.

He knows that he doesn’t own Franco. That would be terribly bigoted of him and Franco would probably hate him for actually believing it outside of silly dirty talks in the bedroom that only have a real meaning in the heat of the moment.

But that doesn’t mean he appreciates other people getting to see Franco like that, too. That’s just a sight for him.

Whatever ridiculous spark of jealousy is starting to form in his chest, though, is quickly thrown away as Franco manages to move back up to suck hard on the head of his dick.

Lando groans, one hand tightening its grip on the steering wheel as he forces his eyes open. The road is mostly straight, thank God, and there’s nobody else but them, and thanks to some kind of magic Lando is able to keep the car from swirling around even as Franco starts to hollow his cheeks and lap at the underside of his dick in slow, torturous strokes.

“Fuck, baby, you are so good at this.” Lando praises, patting his hair. Franco hums around him, taking half of his dick back into his mouth. “Such a good mouth, such a good boy, mh?”

Lando can’t see him, but he is sure that he must be preening, his cheeks all flushed red as he thrives under the compliments.

The attention seeker, Lando loves him more than it’s probably healthy.

“Are you still thinking about the trees?” Franco teases him as he gets away from his cock, just slowly stroking it with one hand.

When Lando lets himself look down for a second, he’s met with the sight of him blinking up, the red on his face a stark contrast with the apparent angelic look on his doe green eyes.

Lando cranes his neck to kiss his forehead, perhaps sweeter than what having his boyfriend’s hand jacking him off as he drives actually is, but Franco smiles sweetly anyway.

Lando looks back at the road, realising that, indeed, Franco has done an amazing job at distracting him. He shouldn’t have doubted him at all.

“The only tree I am thinking about now is mine in your mouth. So please go back to that.” Lando jokes and all that he can hear is Franco snorting before he’s going down once again, swallowing him whole.

Lando moans low, hand going back to Franco’s hair. He lets him settle his own pace, now, head bobbing up and down rhythmically, slowly getting deeper and deeper and not once showing any sign of gag reflex.

Lando really doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

And then, the unexpected happens.

Franco’s phone pings, first, and then the radio suddenly blasts with an Adele song at full volume, the signal clearly back without even giving a warning.

Lando startles immediately, and he’s too focused on keeping the car on the road and immediately turning the music off to notice that his hips have jumped up in the process, too hard, effectively choking Franco.

“What the fuck, Lan?” Franco blurts out, moving away as he coughs roughly, still half bent over the control panel with a hand around his throat.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Lando says, quickly moving the steering wheel to move the left. The electronic voice of Franco’s GPS says ‘15 minutes to destination’. “I didn’t mean to-“

His voice is interrupted by his ringtone resonating through the speakers, Carlos’ phone flashing on the car’s screen.

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “The signal is back, I think he wants to know how far are we.”

The frown of pain on Franco’s face is quickly swept away by a sly smirk, as if he had not been cursing Lando in all known languages just a moment ago.

Lando doesn’t know what to read into his foxy expression.

“Answer him.” Franco says, although it sounds more like an order, so serious as if he already knows Lando will do it anyway.

Lando will, probably, for how much he likes to think that he is the one in control, they both know Franco has him wrapped around his finger. Has Lando driving him around at two in the morning when he has sudden cravings, or getting to his knees when Franco really really wants him to.

“What?” Lando flicks his gaze to Carlos’ caller ID, then the road, and then at Franco’s face slowly coming back down between his legs.

Even as he clearly repeats, “I said, answer him.”

Oh,

Oh.

“Fran, I don’t think-“

“Do you want to come?”

Absolutely, Lando is just on the verge of having one of the best orgasms in his- well, fairly rich sexual life and he has no intention of doing any kind of edging - at least not now, like this.

More importantly, he doesn’t exactly look forward to having to sit through dinner while willing a hard on down as Alex serves him casserole and Carlos’ dog sniffs at his feet.

That would be pretty… inconvenient, and given how cocky Franco can get when he puts his mind into it, he’s sure he would try anything to get a hand on Lando’s dick under the table.

“Fuck yeah,” Lando breathes out. And then, just because he knows good manners. “Please.”

“Then answer the man, puta madre.”

Carlos sounds slightly concerned as Lando finally accepts the call, or as concerned as Carlos Sainz can actually be when it doesn’t directly involve his precious bike, or his dog.

Lando doesn’t know if Alex, even, is on the list.

“Lando, where are you?” Carlos' metallic voice fills the cockpit.

Lando can hear the sound of pots moving in the background and the clicking of silverware, but he’s not really thinking about whatever kind of dish Alex must be making when Franco is suddenly taking Lando’s dick head back into the wetness of his mouth.

Lando slams his hand on the steering wheel, biting back a moan as Franco’s tongue slips in his slit, one delicate hand toying with his balls.

Fuck, Lando’s more into this than he should be. When did Franco turn him into this kind of freak?

“Lando? Are you there? Is everything alright?”

“Answer him.” Franco raises his head just enough to talk in hushed voice right against the underside of his dick, goijg back to sucking on his head the moment after.

Lando swallows, clenching his eyes shut for a single second before forcing them on the road ahead. “Y-yes just the, uh, the signal.”

“Ah yeah, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I should’ve probably given you indications before.” Carlos says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “So, where are you? Alex needs to know when to get the casserole out of the oven.”

“Eh, 15 minutes tops.”

“Ask him if Franco likes parmesan!” Alex screams into the microphone, Carlos groaning right after.

“I think you heard him, Lando.”

Franco hums around him, perhaps the muffled sound of chocked laughter, and the graze of his teeth against the underside of Lando’s dick has him jolting suddenly.

Franco must take it as a sign to keep going, because he firmly wraps his hand around Lando’s base before hollowing his cheeks and opening his mouth as wide as it can get like this, wet saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth and hitting Lando’s bare thighs.

He’s going to die right here, he’s sure of it.

“Yes, yes.” Lando says quickly, taking a handful of Franco’s hair and tugging him down. Franco goes willingly, moaning low enough to barely even reach Lando’s ears. Lando pushes his hips upwards until the head is hitting the back of Franco’s throat, and he can feel the wet suction of it engulfing his entire length. “He eats everything, trust me.”

Carlos and Alex surely can’t catch the second meaning behind that, right?

(Right.)

“Ah, that’s good to know. Alex’s chicken just gave us her first two eggs so we also tried to make an impromptu frittata.”

“It’s our chicken, Carlos.”

“It’s yours when she starts biting at my ankles.”

In all honesty, Lando could care less about their bickering, especially when Franco is bobbing his head up and down, tongue swirling and saliva pooling wetly under his palate, so much that Lando can’t really think about anything else aside from wet, wet, warm-

He is going to come, sooner than he would’ve expected. The illusion of being focused on the road had him thinking he could hold off a little longer but there’s so much he can do when Franco’s heavenly mouth is wrapped around him like this.

Carlos sighs on the other line, “So, alright. Ten minutes, is it alright if we bring out the white wine? I would’ve preferred red but someone forgot to buy it.”

“You went to the mall this morning!” Alex yells in protest.

“It’s okay, it’s- good.” Lando groans. “Whatever’s good.”

Franco is swallowing him down, down, his lips almost touching the trimmed hair of his pubes. He has only ever managed to actually deep throat Lando just once, but even with all the bad angle of bending over the central console, he seems adamant on hitting the second record.

And he’s doing such a good job at sucking Lando off, even like this, because Lando feels like he is going to come probably sooner than he would like, the hot wave of his orgasm building at the pit of his stomach.

And he has no intention to do that while Carlos and Alex are in his fucking speakers.

“Nice, that’s good to know. I know you would’ve preferred beer but we are adults, now, Lando. We must drink fine things at dinner.”

“Yes, yes absolutely, fuck-“ Franco does a magical thing with his tongue just as one of his fingers presses way too closely to Lando’s sack, right where he is sensitive the most.

“Lando, is everything alright?”

“Yes, I-“ Lando chokes out just as Franco hollows his cheeks again, sucking him hard. Lando is sure a vein is going to pop right out of his temple if he keeps holding off any longer. “Just- the road is shit. But I’m almost there.”

“Okay, then I guess we’ll-“

“See you in a bit.” Lando rushes to say, finally ending the call and feeling himself relax against the backrest the moment silence fills in the cockpit.

Franco seems even more eager to make him come, then, bobbing his head quickly, sucking on every downstroke and insistently pressing his finger against Lando’s perineum.

“Fuck, Fran, you’re so good. I am so close- fuck-“

Franco doesn’t pull off, just slips down deeper until his nose is brushing against Lando’s pubes and that is as much of a silent confirmation that Lando allows himself to get before he lets his orgams crash over him.

“Ah, so good. You feel so good, I am going to come, so- ah, yes-“ He comes inside of Franco’s mouth for what feels like hours, spurts of come hitting the back of his throat, and he can feel each swallow of Franco’s throat at every drop of release around his dick, slowly growing oversensitive.

Franco only pulls away when the trembles of aftershocks start running all over Lando’s thighs, and he must sense that the wet suction of his mouth has started to become more painful than pleasurable.

“So…” Franco trails off, swiping a hand over his mouth as he goes back to his seat. “Was it any good?”

Lando glances at him swiftly and Franco looks exactly as wrecked as he imagined, if not worse, slumped against his seat with the long column of his throat exposed as he rests his head on the backrest, little puffs of air escaping his parted wet lips.

When Lando lets his eyes trail lower, is just to see Franco’s hand wrapped around his own dick, suspiciously wet.

“Fuck, Franco.” Lando grits through his teeth, eyes going back to the road. His softening dick gives a weak twitch, he should probably cover himself back up and find some wet whiles, he’s sure he put them somewhere in this cockpit. “Did you touch yourself, too?”

Lando can’t see him, but he just knows that Franco is blushing. For all that he tries to be straightforward and such a little brat, Lando knows that he can get timid when things get pointed out to him.

Lando loves him for that.

“You sounded so hot.” Franco says, voice scratchy. “I like it when you say I am good.”

“I loved it. We definitely need to do that again.” Lando laughs, feeling a bit dizzy and boneless from the recent orgasm and the thought that he made Franco come just by praising him.

They should probably test the limits of this, Lando definitely wants to see how far he can get with Franco squirming just by whispering in his ear - how far Franco can get him.

Franco’s phone pings again, loud. ‘10 minutes to destination’.

“Uh, could you help me clean up a bit now?” Lando asks awkwardly, flicking his gaze to the side to see Franco insistently wiping his own hand down with a dry tissue.

Ah, that’s going to feel so bad on his thighs. If they really are going to do this again, they should probably start to equip the car, too.

Lando has no intention to stain the beautiful leather seats.

“Ay, cono, do I have to do everything myself?” Franco protests, but he still takes another tissue out of the packet to start gently dabbing at Lando’s legs, the wet trails left by Franco’s spit and sweat.

The fabric it’s rough against his skin, but the sweetness of Franco’s touch easily makes up for it.

No matter how rough they can get with each other, Lando knows that deep down Franco likes the moment of care a little bit more. His smiles are always the biggest when Lando comes back from work to bring him his favorite pastries, or when they spend Saturday nights cuddling on the couch to watch trash TV.

Lando likes it too, of course, especially when Franco curls up into his side and pouts until Lando finally starts patting his hair, all of the over confident facade falling to reveal the true sweet side of him.

“Hey,” Lando says softly once Franco has helped him get zipped back up, seatbelt fastened into place. He reaches out towards him, taking his hand to intertwine their fingers over Franco’s thigh - the perks of an automatic. “I love you, mh?”

Franco snorts, but he squeezes back, trying to get his hair back to a coeherent thing rather than the mess Lando had created by gripping at them. “I love you, too.”

—

“Franco! It is so nice to finally meet you, Lando talked so much about you I couldn’t wait to finally see the real version.” Carlos says, enthusiastically slapping a hand on Franco’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Franco says back, Thankfully, Franco barely flinches at the contact, rather smiling broadly as if already at complete ease - Lando does that for him, either way.

“Alex is in the kitchen taking care of the last things, he’ll come in a second.” Carlos says, gesturing for them to take one of the already filled wine glasses. “So, how was the ride here? Pretty boring, eh?”

Franco glances at Lando’s burning face with a mischievous smile, his soft lips already pressed against the brim of a glass. “I found it a lot of fun.” He says, taking a quick sip.

A drop of bubbly liquid immediately slips from the corner of his mouth, traveling down towards his chin, and Franco wipes it away with a swift movement of his thumb, all under Lando’s watchful gaze and flushed red cheeks.

The fucking tease.

“A whole lot of fun.”

[lafcadiosadventures]

So, there's this scene in Cousin Bette, which has a pretty striking line:

– On a marché, dit le vieillard en se retirant, et les morts vont vite à Paris !

(Honoré de Balzac, La cousine Bette, 1846)

“The world moves on,” said the old man, as he withdrew, “and the dead move quickly in Paris!”

(tr. James Waring) (given the implications, I would translate the first half of Vautrin's reply as “We have made our move”)

and I was like, critique of capitalism, etc etc. My friend @madmerchant said she was pretty sure she'd read something very similar in Dracula. Was Stoker referencing Vautrin? Was it a coincidence? There's a persistent shroud of the Fantastic surrounding Vautrin, it would not be surprising if someone would have thought of him as a vampire, or an immortal creature of some kind... however:

“You are early to-night, my friend.” The man stammered in reply:—“The English Herr was in a hurry,” to which the stranger replied:—“That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift.” As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger’s “Lenore”:— “Denn die Todten reiten schnell”— (“For the dead travel fast.”)

oooh. this lead to discovering that Lenore, is one of the cornerstones of Romanticism. So it wasn't that Stoker was referencing Vautrin's last incarnation, but rather, the same originary poem Balzac hismelf was referencing. The influence of the poem was huge, and epsecially the french went crazy over it. The first translation was published in the Journal des Débats in 1811, translated from English. The newspaper published it, not without adding the poem put in display "the most odious vices of the German School".

It was not until Mme de Saël (she of the North vs South temperaments fame) wrote an article trully valuing the work as the poetic masterpiece it was, that the fever for Lenore started to root on the young minds of a Certain Group of Artists-and their readers- in 1820. Madame de Saël had thrown the gauntlet:

"No french translation, be it prose or verse, could express all the nuances and detaild of the German original."

and one Gérard de Nerval picked it up, offering FIVE translations of his own throuout the years...

The poem collects a German folk story, and as soon as you read the summery you *know* why the more edgy Romantics were crazy about it. Like other German folk tales (as Der Erlkönig) it features a frenzied ride through the forests, and a lover that is not what he seems to be (he is DEATH. The RIde is A TRAP) Embroildled in the poem are some anti nobility aspects:

"(in Lenore, we hear) The powrful and pained voice of a Titan, tormented until death by the aristocracy. (...) In German language, 'Bürger' (the poet's name) is synonimous to citoyen"

(Heinrich Heine)

and a desire to revindicate the autochthonous, popular poetry from the lower classes -the Lenore poem is recolected from a popular song Bürger heard a young peasant singing- as the true voice of a nation:

It will remain eternally true that if we have no Volk, we shall have no public, no nationality, no literature of our own which shall live and work in us. Unless our literature is founded on our Volk, we shall write eternally for closet sages and disgusting critics out of whose mouths and stomachs we shall get back what we have given.

(Johann Gottfried Herder)

So, what I'm saying is, I must read Lenore, and also, it is very likely that that Vautrin line is a direct reference to that icon of the dawn of French Romanticism, something the then elders (cousin bette was published in 1846) would have remembered and understood...

[carlosvalderrama]

We opened a Ko-Fi! And to celebrate it while we are in the Season of the Witch, we prepared a new digital printable miniature: Jack o'lantern! But this is a reinterpretation I made of the old iconic character, taking the original legend in which the lantern is a turnip instead of a pumpkin. and of course, lots of liberties were taken 😁

When Stingy Jack tricked the Devil himself, he couldn’t know what kind of curse would shed on him! His black heart turned into a rooted nest infested with worms. His burning head, now a turnip which would hold the inextinguishable embers of Hell. From that day, he would walk the Earth as a monstrosity; a grotesque silhouette that recalls a man holding an impious lamplight even when he lost his humanity forever. That’s why he’s called JACK’O LANTERN!

This is a sculpted model that captures all the creepiness and gnarliness only a mutated undead turnip can have! Go check our Ko-Fi to get the digital file of Jack’o Lantern and benefit from our 66,6% Special Discount from today until November 5th. And we also have some mobile wallpapers if you want to take the Halloween spirit wherever you go!

You only have to click this link (https://ko-fi.com/gargantua_toys/link/SAMHAIN) or introduce SAMHAIN as the discount code. Your support is very important so we can continue our monster-making job! Thanks!

[dailycharacteroption]

Hybrid Class Review: Investigator part 3

(art by LaminIllustration on DeviantArt)

Archetypes

The investigator boasts an interesting set of archetypes, so let’s dive right in! I tend to divide these archetypes into four categories.

Perhaps the first group I’d like to go over are those investigators that are still expressly detectives while dropping the alchemy in favor of other specializations. Perhaps none is more iconic here than the sleuth, which feels like it was made specifically to be a non-specialized detective that drops alchemy entirely in favor of having a pool of luck to help them through the day. Meanwhile, the Jinyiwe focuses on divine mandate and gains spells from such a source, while the Psychic Detective instead uses psychic magic and their sensitivity to gain clues and insights as well as defend themselves. Scavengers also exist which use quasi-magical gadgets instead of alchemical potions, and the Questioner augments their interviews with bardic magic. Additionally, Spiritualists (the archetype, not the class) channel the spirits of the dead to gain answers, while Malice Binders turn witchcraft lore against the wicked.

Of course, some investigators keep the alchemy while still having their own specializations as detectives. Bonded Investigators make use of a familiar ally, for example, while Steel Hounds are never without their trusty firearms. Ciphers investigate by being supernaturally unnoticeable by those that would stop them, while Cult Hunters and Infiltrators both finds ways to find and put a stop to secret societies and insular groups. Others specialize in gleaning secrets from the dead, such as Gravediggers and Dread Investigators, though their methods differ. Empiricists use unfailing logic to defeat deception and trickery, while Profilers use psychological profiles to determine suspects. Forensic Physicians are trained to glean secrets from the dead in a more mundane manner, while Skeptics use their keen senses and knowledge of parlor tricks to reveal fake hauntings and deal with the real ones. Meanwhile, Guardians of Immortaility, Lepidstadt Inspectors, and Ruthless Agents are known for their dogged pursuit of their goals. Finally, Hallucinists use mind-altering substances to reveal the truth, while Lamplighters reveal with alchemical light sources.

Of course, there are some so-called “investigators” that actually deserve investigation of their own, notably the Conspirators, who hide their activities and deceive others, and the Masterminds, master manipulators that can coach their allies on plans in advance.

While plenty of investigator characters may not actually be professional detectives, some of these archetypes are expressly not that while still using their brilliant intellect. Some are scholars and archaeological collectors, such as Antiquarians, while others study mysterious beasts like Cryptid Scholars. Meanwhile, Cartographers and Star Watcher, who study their charts for very different effects, are also a possibility. Engineers create inspired devices, while Holomog Demolitionists destroy with shocking precision and cunning. Utterly ignored but shockingly competent is the Majordomo, who serves dutifully and organizes those under them to great effect, while Tekritanin Arbiters put their brilliant minds to resolving conflict. Natural Philosophers meanwhile study nature directly, while Portal Seekers study the realms beyond the natural. Finally, Reckless Epicureans test their experimental formulae on themselves, while Toxin Codexers specialize in understanding poisons even beyond the standard investigator’s knowledge.

As you can see, these archetypes come in all shapes and sizes, but all in the end fall back on the core theme of the investigator, which is finding the truth. That truth may be the mysteries of a crime or misdeed, or they may be more esoteric such as scientific advancement, occult mysteries, and beyond.

That does it for today, but tomorrow I’ll share some thoughts on the class as a whole.

[dragynkeep]

Oscar's Volume 6-onward design has echoes of one of the iconic, later designs of The Little Prince, which I believe is what people often brought up in comparisons when arguing for his allusion before, but it's not the one most are familiar with (the all-green with a yellow scarf).

I also think there's some interesting parallels to be found between Oscar's story (what little of one there's been) thus far, and the six planets The Little Prince has visited before Earth in the story. I could see the drunkard being Qrow, and the businessman or the lamplighter being James.

That being said, as with a lot in RWBY, they could have done so much more with it.

honestly the "they could've done so much more with it" is pretty much there for all of the rwby allusions because they're so bare bones, they really don't matter at the end of the day.

however, it's weird that they choose to evoke an outfit of the little prince when oscar is less of who he is: having begun the merge with ozpin into whatever they will become as time goes on. would it not have made more sense for oscar to have this type of outfit when we first meet him & then have his style transition into mirroring ozpin's as they begin the merge?

having oscar be defined by orange & green, with the green keeping him in line as an oz host & not really his own individuality, instead of yellow & green just further muddles it.

if this was something that was "planned from the beginning" of oscar's conception, then they really didn't get it across very well unfortunately & this seems to be a consistent issue in these characters.

i would love for there to be some easter eggs between them, hopefully some aus or fan rewrites can give oscar a better treatment than the canon has lmao

[chthonicy]

The Lamplighter by Crystal J. Bell

In "The Lamplighter", a Young Adult Horror & Mystery written by Crystal J. Bell, we follow the story of Temperance, a young woman trying to solve the kidnapping of two girls in her eerie hometown, while trying to provide for her young sister and mother by being the town's only lamplighter. The story shows how she tries to battle hardships, loss, love and misogyny, while discovering unsettling truths about the town's famous figureheads that attracts sailors all over the world.

Crystal J. Bell wrote this story so well that Tempe's loss and spiraling became my own. I devoured this book 2 days in a row, while even at work, because I was so captivated by it. The details of the town were so beautifully described, and Tempe's persona resonated so much with mine. She is an icon for all women, the way she put her family and work over everything else, even though no one supported her simply for being a woman.

The fantasy elements of the book left me speechless. Not going to lie, I was expecting more of it, but in the end they completed the book in a good way. It left me craving for more, not believing what I was reading. But, as a stand-alone is more than enough. Crystal J. Bell gives all the details that were needed for a beautiful epilogue.

All in all, I love this book, rating it 5 stars, and I recommend it from the bottom of my heart. Temperance has a place on my hall of fame heroines.

[mirkwoodsprinceofdoingtoomuch]

Six part two

There’s something about the two of them, the way they ignite at different temperatures, Alex’s frenetic energy and Henry’s aching sureness.

In an instant of sudden, vivid clarity, he can’t believe he ever thought he was straight.

And when Alex looks again, he finds Henry watching him raptly, eyes bright and smiling.

Henry drops his head back on the pillow and groans something that sounds like “fucking eyelashes.”

“Hmm,” Henry hums, the tip of his nose catching on Alex’s. “If I had known this was all it took to shut you up, I’d have done it ages ago.”

With a feat of Herculean strength, he summons up two whole words: “Fuck you.”

Distantly, through a slowly clearing fog, through a messy kiss, Alex can’t help marveling at the knowledge that he’s crossed some kind of Rubicon, here in this room that’s almost as old as the country it’s in, like Washington crossing the Delaware. He laughs into Henry’s mouth, instantly caught up in his own dramatic mental portrait of the two of them painted in oils, young icons of their nations, naked and shining wet in the lamplight. He wishes Henry could see it, wonders if he’d find the image as funny.

“So,” Alex says, changing tracks by stretching languidly, “I guess I should tell you, I’m bisexual.”

“Good to know,” Henry says. His eyes flicker down to Alex’s hip, where it’s bared above the sheet, and he says as much to himself as to Alex, “I am very, very gay.”

Alex watches his small smile, the way it wrinkles the corners of his eyes, and very deliberately does not kiss it.

Part of his brain keeps getting stuck on how strange, and strangely wonderful, it is to see Henry like this, open and bare in every way. Henry leans across the pillow to Alex and presses a soft kiss to his mouth, and Alex feels fingertips brush over his jaw. The touch is so gentle he has to once again remind himself not to care too much.

Henry looks back up at him, his mouth open and incredulous, and he throws his head back and laughs, and it’s only him, the nerdy, neurotic, sweet, insomniac rich guy who constantly sends Alex photos of his dog, and something slots into place. He leans down and kisses him fiercely, and then he’s grinning and gone.

[liloinkoink]

You know how every fandom has THAT one iconic fanfic every fan has read or at least heard about? Like passerine, or THAT one haikyuu fanfic? Congrats, Lamplight is THAT one treebark/renchantyn fanfic.

baffling thing to say to me. like on an objective level i know this Could be true, if only bc there aren't too many big treebark fics. but emotionally i do think you're fucking with me

[music-oc-tournament]

More Sommnus propaganda

From his fathers side his grandmother was a mad biologist who experimented on herself, causing the mutated genes to stick in the family, hence Sommnus, his father, and his uncle to have blackened noses, fluffy elongated ears, and tails. So essentially they are puppies. And they use it to save the world.

From his mothers side they are cult leaders chosen ones of the god Nathair who save the world from dark forces

Sarah was created by the Puppetmaster, but she disobeyed them and ultimately was cast out. From there she met Sommnus and that's when he got his iconic sleep powers

Transed his gender and his outfit has so many pockets I want that outfit

Made a deal with the devil The King so he'd steal for him

Works at a mall. Kitsune has to buy lamps so much it becomes a meme between the coworkers. Only he recognizes she's a crime boss

Once got ran over by a magical girl

Jack proceeded to comfort him because "No shame in getting your ass kicked by them they're insane :>"

The Puppetmaster hates his guts fr simply because he's frends with Sarah

His "very good friend" Jack and he started being villains simply because they need the cash and also Jack is absolutely feral <3

Lamplight recognizes him from when they were mortal and decided he is their specialest little boy

He is not the main character. Just a random guy in this messed up universe

!

[dyxtd21]

Alexandrite aesthetic moodboard!!

Alexandrite:

Appearance and Attire:

Alexandrite is a striking figure whose appearance transforms dramatically between her two personas.

Sunlight/Electric Light Persona:

In the presence of sunlight or electric light, Alexandrite's entire being radiates a vibrant green hue, exuding a sense of life and vitality. Her hair shines like emeralds, cascading down her back in loose waves, complementing her equally radiant green eyes. Her skin, also infused with this vivid green, appears almost to glow with an inner light.

Her outfit during this time is quintessentially Western, inspired by the iconic imagery of cowboys and frontier heroes. She wears a short denim skirt that allows her ease of movement and adds a touch of modernity to her classic look. Her blouse is knotted at the waist, accentuating her busty figure while maintaining a practical, no-nonsense style. Cowboy boots, worn but well-maintained, reach up to her knees, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat shades her face from the sun. This ensemble is completed with a leather belt.

Moonlight/Lamplight/Candlelight Persona:

Under the moonlight, lamplight, or candlelight, Alexandrite undergoes a dramatic transformation. Her coloration shifts to a deep, enigmatic purple, giving her an aura of mystery and intrigue. Her hair turns a rich amethyst shade, and her eyes darken to a deep violet, adding to her captivating and slightly ominous presence. Her skin, now a dusky purple, absorbs the softer, ambient light, making her appear almost as a shadow moving through the night.

Her attire in this form is practical for her role as a rogue and outlaw. She dons long jeans, sturdy and worn, paired with a plain t-shirt that allows for unrestricted movement. Over this, she wears a poncho, the fabric dark and muted, perfect for blending into the shadows. A bandanna, tied around her neck or covering her mouth, adds an air of anonymity and danger. Her left hip sports a gun holster, always ready for a quick draw, and she often carries a lasso, symbolizing her unpredictability and readiness to capture or restrain. This outfit emphasizes her busty figure while maintaining an air of rugged practicality.

Gemstone:

Alexandrite's marquise-cut gemstone is located on her right hand, a symbol of her dual nature and versatility. The gemstone itself shifts in color alongside her transformations, from a bright, sparkling green in the daylight to a deep, mysterious purple in the night. This gem not only signifies her changing personas but also serves as a focal point of her power and identity.

Personality:

Daylight Persona: In her green form, Alexandrite embodies the spirit of a benevolent protector. She is kind, helpful, and fiercely protective of those in need. Her demeanor is warm and approachable, making her a trusted ally and a beacon of hope. She carries herself with a sense of duty and responsibility, always ready to lend a hand or offer guidance.

Night Persona: In her purple form, Alexandrite becomes the archetype of a criminal outlaw. Her personality shifts to one of mystery and recklessness. She is cunning, resourceful, and not afraid to bend or break the rules to achieve her goals. This persona is marked by a sense of independence and a rebellious streak, making her both a formidable adversary and an enigmatic figure. Her actions are driven by a complex code of honor, often at odds with conventional morality, yet deeply personal and unyielding.

Headcanon voice: Charlize Theron

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Exploring the Magic of Disneyland California Adventure Park

Disneyland California Adventure Park, nestled in the heart of Anaheim, California, is a treasure trove of enchantment, thrills, and unforgettable experiences. This sister park to Disneyland is designed to celebrate the vibrant culture, history, and spirit of California, offering guests an immersive journey through diverse and exciting attractions. Whether you're a first-time visitor or a seasoned Disney enthusiast, California Adventure Park promises a magical adventure for everyone.

A Journey Through Iconic Lands California Adventure Park is divided into several distinct lands, each brimming with its unique charm and attractions:

Buena Vista Street: Step back in time to the 1920s and 1930s, a tribute to Los Angeles during the era when Walt Disney first arrived in California. Stroll along the streets lined with nostalgic shops and eateries, and don't miss the Red Car Trolley for a quaint ride through the area.

Pixar Pier: Celebrate the beloved stories and characters from Pixar Animation Studios. Enjoy thrilling rides like the Incredicoaster and Toy Story Midway Mania, meet your favorite Pixar characters, and savor delicious themed treats.

Cars Land: Immerse yourself in the world of Radiator Springs from Disney-Pixar's Cars. Experience the high-speed excitement of Radiator Springs Racers, take a leisurely drive through the town, and enjoy the whimsical atmosphere of Flo's V8 Café and Cozy Cone Motel.

Avengers Campus: For superhero fans, this is a must-visit. Join the ranks of your favorite Marvel heroes in thrilling attractions like Web Slingers: A Spider-Man Adventure and Guardians of the Galaxy – Mission: BREAKOUT! Interact with characters like Spider-Man, Iron Man, and the Guardians themselves as you embark on heroic quests.

Grizzly Peak: Experience the great outdoors with a California twist. From the white-water rafting adventure of Grizzly River Run to the scenic beauty of the Redwood Creek Challenge Trail, this land is perfect for nature lovers and adventure seekers alike.

Captivating Shows and Entertainment California Adventure Park offers a variety of live shows and entertainment that bring Disney magic to life. Enjoy the spectacular "World of Color," a nighttime water and light show that illuminates Paradise Bay with stunning visuals and music. Don't miss seasonal parades, character meet-and-greets, and interactive performances that keep the spirit of Disney alive throughout the day.

Culinary Delights The park is also a haven for foodies, offering an array of dining options that cater to all tastes. From quick bites to gourmet meals, the culinary landscape at California Adventure Park is diverse and delectable. Savor the flavors of the park with options like Carthay Circle Restaurant, Cocina Cucamonga Mexican Grill, and the Lamplight Lounge, each providing a unique dining experience that complements the park's vibrant atmosphere.