#me: literally just trying to watch the stupid Time Tunnel

[natalievoncatte]

CW: discussion of death and dying.

The gun was still on her hip when Lena walked into her penthouse. She probably should have gotten rid of it, just for the sake of disposing of evidence. It was far from the only one she owned, and she wouldn’t miss it. Then again, one does not discard lightly the weapon of fratricide. She’d decide what to do with the murder weapon later; right now, there was only one thought screaming in her head.

I killed Lex. I killed my brother.

It kept repeating in her brain on an endless loop.

I killed my brother for a liar. A betrayer. He was right and I was wrong. She only-

Lena was not alone. There was a figure seated on her sofa, staring straight ahead. Lena knew those blond curls, falling in a dark river like warm honey. Supergirl.

Supergirl, not Kara. Kara was good. Kara loved her, trusted her, watched out for her, had her back. Kara kept her secrets and gave her a shoulder to cry on always had her back. Kara was good, and Kara was a lie.

Lena walked around the couch, eyes wide and lips trembling, her features pulled into a mask of morose fury. How dare she just break in here and… sit there.

“I died.”

Lena froze.

“I died,” Supergirl said, again. “The clone of me that Lex had, she was a duplicate created by Harun-El somehow. She killed me. I died.”

Supergirl’s brilliant blue eyes flashed in the twilight of Lena’s dark apartment and locked on her.

“There was nothing. No warm light of Rao welcoming me home to live in peace with my people forever. No tunnel of light. There was just nothing. I was gone and then I wasn’t. Alex said the grass brought me back.”

Lena licked her lips. She was fixed to the spot.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m Kara.”

Those two little words, those treacherous words, hit Lena like a freight train. Her knees buckled and she sagged, catching herself by an end table.

Kara met her gaze.

“There were a million reasons why I never told you. They’re all stupid and pointless. When I woke up that was the first thing I thought of. I died and I never told you.”

Lena tried to speak, but her throat had gone so dry that it was like trying to breath through a mournful of sand. She sagged further, barely able to fall into a side chair.

“At first I just didn’t know you well enough. Then I screwed everything up by being a complete ass to you, and I never even said I was sorry. But I was sorry. So I was too scared to tell you because I didn’t want you to hate me. Then by the time I wanted to tell you again, all of this had happened and I was still afraid you’d hate me.”

Kara looked down at the floor.

“But then I was dead and none of it mattered anymore. None of the things that had been important to me mattered when I was dying. You know what I was thinking as she crushed the life out of me?”

“No,” Lena choked out.

“This is it?” said Kara. “All that… and this is it? Just like that? This is all I get?”

Silence ruled the dark apartment. The back edge of Lena’s gun dug uncomfortably into her flank. Kara just sat there, looking through the floor. Perhaps literally.

“Kara,” Lena said, without quite knowing why. “I’m sure… you weren’t…”

“No, Lena, I died. It wasn’t like when Reign beat me to a pulp and threw me off a building. That was different. This was different. I can’t even say how. I just know.”

When Reign…

Lena had been there that night. Reign had beaten Supergirl into a coma, thrown her off a building and left her broken and bloodied in the street. Lena thought she’d died that night.

Wait.

That was Kara, too.

Sharp, rancid bile, harsh and acidic, burned the back of Lena’s throat. She choked it down, trembling.

Kara looked at her again.

“I have something else I have to tell you.”

Lena needed a drink. Now. She wobbled across the room to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest wine bottle, pouring herself a glass and downing half of it in one go. It was a dry red, harsh and sharp on her tongue.

“Kara,” Lena began. “Before you say anything else-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena wasn’t sure what she expected Kara to say, but not that. Not just… say it. She couldn’t say it. Not when Lena has been grasping that secret so hard that it always threatened to slip from her fingers, reedy to leap from her grip from being held so tight. The words simultaneously made her feel as if her heels would float from the floor and nearly drove her down to it. She leaned on the white marble countertop, trembling.

“None of the reasons I kept that secret matter anymore, either. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just… I died,” Kara’s voice crumbled into a sob, barely intelligible, “and I didn’t tell you.”

Lena said nothing. She downed the rest of the wine.

“What do you want from me?” She finally choked out.

“I want to tell you about Krypton. I want movie nights and game nights and big belly burgers and brunches. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I don’t know how I never did. If you want that.”

Again, Lena went silent.

“I want to make up for the shit I’ve put you through. I want to show you how much I care for you, as often and as thoroughly as I can. Dying without you fucking sucked. I want to live with you instead.”

Lena’s breath quickened. Kara’s boots creaked as she stood up, her cape billowing slightly behind her as she crossed the room, keeping a respectful distance.

“I’ll go, if you want. I just had to say it.”

Lena pressed her fingers against the countertop until they went white and her palms trembled. She felt the weight of the gun on her hip.

“Stay,” she whispered.

There is no prompt for this one. The idea just came to me and I had to write it out.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-six | everything in its right place

It wasn’t a real spider. Not completely. But it moved like one over your hands, and so you’d thrown it so far away with one almighty shriek that the spider jumped—a tiny automaton thing, built by Hephaestus himself.

The whole thing felt like one, big joke on you.

It begun as a silver chain previously in Eurytion’s possession. He said he didn’t need it, and had no need to go into the Labyrinth or make contact with Hephaestus. If you needed to find the god, this would lead you right to him. At first, turning it over in your hands, you felt grateful that finally somebody was helping you properly. Until you pressed down on the tiny button in the middle, and it turned into a spider.

The good news: it led you straight to him. Right to Hephaestus’s doorstep. Or, entryway, for a better word. The spider had been scuttling and crawling along the tunnels for a good distance, enough so that you were starting to get tired. Percy had been nearly bouncing in place, both with anticipation for what you might find, and eagerness to get this over with; he wanted out as much as you and Grover.

If you weren’t so good at running, you might have lost the creepy little thing. By the time it finally stopped, all eight legs perched like broken wires, you were hot on its trail and pretty breathless. Grover slowed to a pace at your side, raising his hands to run over his sweaty t-zone from the exertion that was chasing the mechanical spider. Percy slid into your back, and brushed himself off like nothing happened.

You could have described it as developing a funny feeling that something was about to happen.

You stopped only because of one thing.

The giant cave, a spectacular hole in the ground inches away from the tips of your Converse. You watched from the corner of your eye Grover settling back from the jagged edge, and became aware of Percy’s fingers winding round your backpack. Human nature or stupid curiosity, you dug for your flashlight in your pocket, and leaned forward over the abyss. Percy tugged violently on your strap.

“Hey, come on, dont.” He sighed. “If you fall down there—”

“I’m not gonna fall down there!” You protest.

“Do you see with your own eyes right now? You’re literally leaning over a cavern.”

“I’m not gonna fall. But if I did I’d just take you down with me. For company ‘n all.” You drawl, turning to face him with a sly smile. Your brows jump, and Percy huffs, giving your bag one last tug until you avail, and step back.

“How kind,” he deadpans.

“I try my hardest.” You shrug.

“I think we have bigger problems than falling right now,” croaked Grover. He raised his flashlight and flicked it on and off to highlight the problem: a series of metal bars strung up to the ceiling, half-corroded.

You bark a sudden laugh at your luck. “Hope everyone’s had their tetanus shots!”

Between the rotting bars jammed into the cave roof, the tiny spider was swinging across with its strange silky webs, and crawling with its sticky feet across the ceiling. Unless you wanted to stay stuck down here at this junction, you’d have to follow it. And heights were not your speciality.

You clap your hands together; it echoes in the vast space. “So, any first takers” Neither boy answers you. “Brilliant. So, the thing is, I’d rather die than do the monkey bars. Do you guys see my arms? They weren’t made for this shit.”

“Have a little faith,” gulped Grover. “If a mechanical spider with no physical brain can do it, we totally can!”

“I like your enthusiasm!” Percy snapped his fingers. “It’s just the kind of leadership style we need!” He leaned forward and clapped Grover on the shoulder. “Onward, my friend!”

Grover tittered on the spot, and a nervous belch boasted loudly in the air. All the while he argued back and forth with Percy over how he should go first, you decided that it was best to shove down your nerves for the sake of the ever-furthering spider, and stepped back twice. The boys hardly noticed, caught up in their silly back-and-forth debate. You made your choice, and decided to make a run and jump for it.

The second your hands touched the first metal rung, they stung from the impact. You couldn’t prevent the shriek escaping your throat, but everything after that was blocked out. The brain has a funny way of focusing when it senses danger; it blocks out everything it deems unneeded. In this case, you knew though you couldn’t hear them that the boys were probably yelling something. You focussed on the strain in your shoulders, reaching forward for the next bar with halfway decent momentum. Halfway across, your palms started to sweat, and the panic set in even further.

“Guys—” you swallowed, choking on it. “What are the chances I die on impact? Don’t answer that—I already know the answer. It was in this book I read a while ago. It was 31,000 people in 2000. That’s the last time they looked at the statistics. They’ll probably go up—”. Your hand slipped from the bar, and you wiped your palm on your pants before reaching for the next one. You take deep breaths as your body is suddenly hit with panicked sweating and heat, and you know you’re not too far from a panic attack. There’s nothing anybody can do to help you here—it’s all on you. And it’s a horrible feeling knowing that.

It’s hard to move when your fingers start to tingle and grow stiff, another oncoming sign that your body has had enough, it’s working too hard. The brain works in tandem with the limbs—the control centre tells everything else what to do. If it says calm down, it’s going to calm down everything else; even hundreds of feet above a plunging cavern.

When you touch the ground again, you feel rather shaky. But there’s no proper time for rest, or to wait for the boys. The spider is scuttling further away, and it’s literally a race against time to catch up to it. With legs like jelly, you bolt as fast as you can after the spider, the tiny clicking of its mechanical legs sounding through the narrowing tunnel. It’s dark and damp, and your flashlight is beginning to flicker as the batteries run out. You lose all sight and sound of Percy and Grover, and your chest screams with the exertion of holding yourself above ground for so long and then moving instantly into a sprint.

The spider really doesn’t care, though.

You run and run, until something crunches under your feet. You ignore it until you can’t anymore, and gradually slow down, as the crunching becomes too loud. You bend down to inspect the pieces: wood chips, like from…pencils? There’s a shard of lead from the end of one just laying around, and another a bit away from it. Who the hell needs pencils down here? Is somebody else lost, too? The pieces slip through your fingers as you get to your feet, falling back down.

You pick up your flashlight from between your neck and shoulder where you’d been holding it, and twist it in your hand. The light still flickers, except this time it has enough of a glow to show you just who left the pencil scrapings.

Skeletons. Dead, very dead skeletons.

And they look a little different to the ones in gothic movies.

Some are white, like they’ve been bleached, but mainly they’re a weird yellow-brown and mottled, rotting away. They don’t smell, weirdly. They could almost be props. You’re not naive enough to believe that though.

A set of footsteps is growing louder nearing your position. It’s Percy, calling your name. And when he falls to step next to you, a hand on your shoulder, you can’t help but nodding grimly to the skeletons he hasn’t seen yet. You flash your light on them, and he gags.

“Let’s keep going,” you say, and nod to the literal light at the end of the tunnel. You can already see it opens into a big room. “I don’t wanna meet the thing that left those.”

You wait for Grover to catch up before you move on towards the bright light at the end of the tunnel. It feels weirdly intimate, all quiet and settled as you near it.

But…yeah, you take that back. Because you meet the thing that left those skeletons pretty quickly. Just when you thought things couldn’t get weirder down here.

You stop short, and can’t help your jaw dropping in disgust at the creature perched on the glittering dais on the far side of the room. With the body of a lion and the head of a woman, you quite honestly feel like vomming. She wore makeup like a clown, and her stringy hair was tied back way too tightly—how the hell did she even do her hair, with paws?

Grover gagged. It echoed. “Sphinx.”

You scrunch your nose in response. “Ooooh, are we talkin’ that weird thing that does riddles?”

“Funny way of putting it, but yes.”

You want to reply to Grover, but you’ve lost sight of the spider, your only way forward. You can hear it in the quiet, tapping away down the only exit: right next to the Sphinx.

You try your luck; you suck in a deep breath and make a run for it, but the creature is quicker than you are, and it dives down to block your path, roaring in your face with such ferocity that you’re left only with shock. Your face stings with the heat. You gag, and step back. Metal bars slammed down across the exit, and the way you’d come in, blocking your way out indefinitely. Looking longingly through the bars, you lost sight and sound of the spider, heart sinking.

When the bars were settled, the creature smiled. Somewhat horrifying, the voice to leave its mouth was on par. “Welcome, lucky contestants! Are you ready to play…GUESS THE RIDDLE?!”

Spotlights cranked into place and blinded Grover, who slapped a hand over his eyes. Canned applause blasted like there were a dozen soundbars in the room. Something popped from the ceiling, and glittering rained down, sparkling purple, pink and silver in the spotlight.

The Sphinx prowled the room and flicked back her head like you would tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Pass the test, demigods, and you get to advance! Fail, and I eat you for dinner! So! Who will be our contestant tonight?”

“Grover,” you point instantly, and then feel terrible because he looked rather sick. Coincidentally, both boys looked at you. “What, you think I’m smart enough for this shit?” You hiss.

“Absolutely!” Percy encouraged. “And we’ll be right here to fight for you!”

“Totally!” Nodded Grover. He reached into his pocket and produced a stick, and began munching on it instantly. A nervous habit, you’ve come to realise.

“How romantic,” you roll your eyes to Percy, but inside your stomach says SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! You deflated at the shoulders, and squeezed your flashlight between your fingers. Approaching the CONTESTANT podium, it wasn’t difficult to notice the dusty skeleton in a school uniform still leaning over the platform, jaw hanging open.

Holding your flashlight by the very end, you gave the skeleton a shove, and then a kick for good measure. It toppled off the side and clattered to the ground, bones rattling. You side-eyed it and quickly looked away. “So sorry, man.”

“Welcome, daughter of Athena!” The Sphinx cried in a cheesy, televised tone. “Are you ready for your questions?”

You point your flashlight at her. “Uhhhh—no.”

“I need an answer!”

“Sure, yeah. Give me the question, then.” At the side of the room, Percy sends you what is supposed to be an encouraging set of a thumbs-up, and a large smile, nodding his head.

“Riddles, actually, get it right dear. Anywho! Twenty riddles coming your way!” A drumroll sounded overhead, rattling your organs the bass was so deep. There may as well have been a band up in the ceiling. Hell, maybe there was. “What is…the Capital of Bulgaria?”

Embarrassingly, you almost fall flat. “Pffttt, I know this.”

“You know this!” Encouraged Percy from his place, except when you turned to look at him, he was leaning against the wall and sweating. Very encouraging. “You’ve got this, B!”

“Isn’t it, like Sofia, or something? And that isn’t even a riddle, that’s just basic knowledge—”

Applause screamed above. The Sphinx smiled too sweetly, and her sharp canines showed. “Correct! Now, mark down your answers in the booklet with the yellow pencil.”

You eye your empty hands. “What pencil—?” With a solid POP! the pencil, sharpened to a point, appeared on top of the little booklet like magic.

“Now,” said the Sphinx. “If you need to erase an answer, be sure to do it COMPLETELY! Or else the machine is unable to read the answers.” She smiled with closed eyes. A horrible sight, really. The nightmares will be anticipated, when you’re out of here.

Waving around your pencil, and growing slightly annoyed with the creature, you huff. “What machine?”

With a large paw, the Sphinx made a pointing movement to the giant bronze thing situation to the side. It had appeared under a spotlight, and was covered in the Greek letter Êta. If you weren’t wrong, that was Hephaestus’s mark.

Another nail in the coffin of life being a total joke.

“Now!” The Sphinx clapped her paws. “Next question!”

“Shit question,” you mumbled. You set your hands on either side of the podium and waited.

“I beg your pardon?” The Sphinx grew still instantly, clearly annoyed.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“What is the square root of sixteen?”

“Oh. I cant do math. Uhm…”

“Ten seconds on the clock!”

A loud and irritating ticking began with an audible countdown from invisible voices, making your eyes ring. Suddenly uncomfortable, you dip your head and discreetly look at Percy, whose hand moves at his side.

“Four?” You frown.

A bell rang off. “Correct! Which United States president signed the Civil Rights Act?”

“Lyndon. B. Johnson? I th—”

“Correct! Which planet spins clockwise?”

“Venus?”

“Which part of the human body is incapable of healing itself?”

“I think it’s your teeth?” You shift on your feet, feeling way too under pressure.

“Need a definite answer!” The Sphinx pointed to the ceiling with a paw, and the countdown began.

Tiredly, you drawl, “It’s your teeth.”

“Correct again! What comes into the world with more bones than the adult human?”

“A baby?”

“Correct!”

The questions go on, and on until your mind feels like a battered sieve, bent out of shape and a little corroded. You passed twenty questions, and stared at Percy, unimpressed, as a dozen layers of glitter and confetti rained down upon you. A techno electric song began blasting over the invisible speakers in celebration. Grover was taking deep breaths, mumbling under his breath, probably thanking the gods. When you found your place next to Percy, he huffed a laugh, and glitter shifted from your face as he did.

“Oh, you did great!” He offered. The metal bars ground out a horrid noise as they rose back to where they came from. “I knew you could do it.”

“You offered me up like paint at an artist’s house.”

Grover, still praying, took off with his eyes closed, doing a little jig. The Sphinx took a seat at dais, eyes closed. She looked somewhat frozen, barely breathing. When Grover passed on by, it was as if she’d never moved at all.

Clapping a hand down on your head, Percy shook the confetti and glitter like dust from your hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he said so with a humoured smile. “I’ll never do it again. Friends?”

“Suppose so,” you shrug, and glitter dances to the ground.

“Let’s go, disco ball. We need to find that spider.”

You skedaddled past the Sphinx whom paid you no mind, and out the tunnel way, leaving a trail of glitter. After a few wrong turns, and following Grover’s voice, and finally managed to locate your friend and the spider, which threw itself at a metal door, a little bit of light spilling out underneath it. In the middle of the door, old and creaking despite not touching it, was nailed a big sign, wilting like it had been melted, dashed with the same sign as the answering machine ten minutes ago: the Greek Êta.

“Are we ready to meet Hephaestus?” Grover asked nervously.

“I’m ready to ask why he spends his time down here,” you grumbled. “Why not somewhere nice?”

Deciding you’d done enough today, Percy reached out around you for the door handle, and gave it a good push. The door screamed, slowly opening, revealing all inside.

The room was bigger than words could describe. It was filled to the brim with machines and makings, some working, some not. There were cars, half-built just lying around, and bits of mechanical animals waiting to be put together. A fire burned in the corner of the room, not tended to though. A dozen tools hung from the walls and were splashed across work tables.

Nobody noticed him until the door slammed shut, you screamed, and he shifted out from underneath a car. A giant man in dirty work pants, and a leg in a metal brace.

“Well, what do we have here?” He boomed. Maybe it was wrong to be so terrified, but you were, and you found yourself shifting slowly, subtly, taking your place beside Percy.

Unfortunately, your slinking act didn’t last for long. When Hephaestus stood properly, he towered way over the three of you.

“I didn’t make you demigods, did I?”

Percy coughed. “No, sir.”

He was tall, and his beard was smoking. The metal spider perched on his head.

“Good. Terrible workmanship.”

“We’ve met, sir,” said Percy.

“Have we, now?” His tone indicated that he couldn’t care less. “Well, if I didn’t get rid of you the first time I won’t need to now, I suppose. And a Satyr. Wow. You’re all far from home. There better be a good reason for disturbing me.”

“We’re looking for Daedalus—”

The god’s beard flickered ten times brighter, and he seemed to get taller. “Daedalus?” He roared.

“Yes, sir, please.” Grover pleaded nervously.

“You’re wasting your time.” He stomped over to the corner of the room, and began to tinker with some pieces of metal. “I understand you met my mother.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy nodded.

“What did you think of her, daughter of Athena?” You jolt at your place, and wish the ground would open up and take you. Side-stepping, you remain half behind Percy, grimacing. “She’ll smile to your face and talk about important values, family values. Didn’t stop her pitching me off of Olympus.”

Why me? You wish you could ask. Why are you asking me?

“I thought that was Zeus?” Percy tries to deflect.

Hephaestus spun on his feet like a top, facing you. “She likes telling that version. Makes her more likeable doesn’t it? The truth is, my mother loves families, but only certain types of families. She influences, and she lobbies. She likes to get involved.”

Finally, he looked up from the metal in his large hands, and focused on Percy. “Oh, this one doesn’t like me. I’ll bite, demigod—what do you want?”

“We told you,” Percy snapped. “We need to find Daedalus. It’s important. There’s this guy, a son of Hermes, and he’s working with Kronos. They’re trying to find a way to navigate this maze to take over everywhere. If we don’t get to Daedalus first—”

“And I told you, son of Poseidon—you’re wasting your time. He won’t help you.”

Hephaestus shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Some of us are thrown off of cliffs and some of us learn not to trust people. Ask me for gold, or a new sword. I can grant you those things. But a way to Daedalus? Well, that’s an expensive favour.”

“So you know where he is?” Asked Grover. “He’s down here at least?”

“It isn’t wise to go looking.”

But isn’t looking the nature of wisdom?

Hephaestus made a deep, rumbling sigh. “If I help you, there will be a price. I need a favour, too.”

“Name it,” demanded Percy.

“You heroes! You like making your promises. How very…refreshing.” The god reached out with a giant hand to push a button in the wall, and it instantly changed. The concrete and metal combined twisted and glowed until it became a television screen, showing mountains, and a forest. Smoke bellowed from the background.

“One of my forges gone, but this used to be my favourite.”

“But that’s Mount St. Helens!” Pointed out Grover. “But you said it used to be your favourite?”

“Well, the monster, Typhon, is trapped there.”

“What do you want us to do? Fight him for you?” Ah, Percy; ever the brave.

Hephaestus snorted meanly. “Well that’s suicide. Someone or something is using my forges there. They sense me coming, and they go, when I try to search it. There is something ancient and evil waiting there, and I want to know who has invaded my territory.”

“You want us to find out who it is.”

“Correct!” Your brain aches, thinking back to the Sphinx. “Find what you can and report back to me, and then I’ll tell you everything I know. Promise.”

“Fine,” Percy nodded. “How do we get there?”

Hephaestus clapped his hands together, and the mechanical spider fell from the rafters, right at your feet. You jumped about ten feet in the air, and screamed so loud it was bolstered by the metal walls. “My creation will show the way. Try to stay alive, young ones. Humans are much more fragile than automatons.”

For a while, you followed the spider without any trouble. The paths seemed unusually normal, just straightforward tunnels of concrete, or metal park slides the whole way down. But the ground began to change to dirt, and trees sprouted in the darkness, and a singular tunnel led away from the original path—Grover was headed straight for it, as if in a trance. He slowed, and slowed and stopped, just before the entrance.

“Come on,” you groaned. “Let’s go, man, It’s not far.”

“This is the way, guys!” Grover mumbled. “This is it! I can feel it!”

“What way?” Probed Percy. “You don’t mean…you know he’s there? Pan? Really?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated. “This is it, guys!”

You followed after the spider, intent on not losing it, but held back when neither Grover or Percy followed.

“I have to follow this. I won’t get this chance ever again. You know that, right?”

On the one hand, you wanted to tell Grover to not be selfish. This was the original quest and it was important. But on the other, saying that would mean you were being selfish, holding Grover back from the only thing he wanted. He’d gone along with your plan for a while now, and outwardly telling him that he shouldn’t be doing the one thing he’d ever wanted would feel like stabbing him.

“Percy,” said Grover, “we will find each other again. We have the empathy link, remember? I have to do this. I have to; he’s…so close!”

Because, at the end of the day, this was all Grover had wanted for so long. Really, it felt cruel to tell him no.

Percy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I hope you’re right.”

“I swear it, I am.”

“Just be careful, yeah? And find us, afterwards.”

Maybe it was to be your last sight of Grover. Perhaps you’d never see him again, although you really didn’t want to think so. You looked after him, as he wandered into the tunnel surrounded by darkness and tree roots winding from the ground until finally he’d gone completely.

It left a strange feeling that something was going to happen.

“We shouldn’t have split up,” you shake your head. “This is a horrible idea!”

“We’ll see him again…” Percy tried to sound confident, but even he fell a little short. He chewed his cheek, still looking at the tunnel Grover had left through. “Don’t worry. Come on, let’s catch up with that spider. It won’t wait for us.”

And it didn’t. The tiny spider scuttled through tunnels and tunnels, down slopes and up them. They grew tighter, and hotter, until your face dripped with sweat. The flashlight slipped in your hand, and you’d been forced to put away your dagger for fear of it slipping away.

More than once you had to stop in place and wipe the sweat dripping into your eyes, sticky and slippy. Your hair grew damp, uncomfortable around your face.

Percy seemed to be struggling the same way. When you turned back to him, his cheeks were bright red like cherries, highlighting the green in his eyes. Somehow, he managed a smile, nodding encouragingly. You swallowed hard, throat as dry as anything.

“Keep going!” He urged. “It’s not far, now, I know it.”

You didn’t want to tell him that he was a little too optimistic for it to be true, but who were you to burst his bubble?

It realistically didnt take a long time, but it certainly felt like it did. Eventually, the spider stopped short and curled into a ball, rolling down a little decline before it popped back open, and crawled a small distance. At last it waited for you and Percy.

The room before you now was the size of a large football stadium, times two thousand. It was so big you could scarcely see each end. The worst part, when you pushed aside the fact that you couldn’t really see properly, was the fact the floor was not floor at all but a plaza of bubbling lava, and your only way to get across should the need arise was two lengths of metal bridges, which ultimately, if the pool of lava was anything to go by, would be too hot to walk across for human beings. Here and there on little platforms were machines bigger than you, rumbling, whirring. Perhaps they weren’t the weird things though—the creatures, dark and shapeless and moving around the solid concrete platform around the lava, paid you no mind. Maybe they’d yet to see you.

“Let’s go, while they’re not looking,” hissed Percy. He snatched up your hand and pulled you along, despite how sweaty you were.

“Hold up!” You pulled back on him, but he persevered. “Percy, wait! We need a plan.”

“We don’t need a plan. We just need to get some information and get out of here.”

“Exactly why we need a plan!”

Your eyes began to burn from the heat of the lava, and your lungs ached from the smoke. It became difficult to even see, so it didn’t take long at all for something to go wrong.

“Agh!” Percy screamed, and you reached out blindly in the smoky haze to slap your hand over his mouth—you missed, and your palm found his eyes instead. “Ow!”

“Shut up, idiot!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “What did you do?”

“Kicked a cart by accident. I can’t see a damn thing with all this smoke.”

Near enough four years ago, when you met Percy, you wouldn’t have thought you’d be creeping around a pit filled with lava and carrying a deadly weapon in your backpack. At most, you’d believed you’d go through high school and eventually Percy would find other friends. You would see each other in hallways in brief glances and walk on by. Maybe in another life. In a normal life, if you’d been born to both mortal parents. You might have even had a dog in the mix. It was strange to think about, as he pulled you down behind a crate, not caring even a little bit about your sweaty palm, or the fact that you’d accidentally slapped him in the face. Life worked in funny ways. The Fates certainly chose you two for a reason, though you couldn’t be sure what that reason was, yet. Maybe, when you’d asked to be born again, the Judges in the Underworld decided you needed some more excitement in your life. Or maybe they hated you, and you’d done wrong before, whoever you were before, because to be here now you’d have to have been here once—after seeing the Underworld with your own eyes, there was no more questioning life after death. Did you reach Elysium? Were you a nice person?

Being a demigod had its pros, its cons, and its questions. It enabled deep thinking.

“Come on, just go around it,” you nodded to the sight up ahead. Percy went to climb to his feet…

That was when you heard the voices.

“Shit! Get in the cart!”

Pulling back the tarp, stinging your fingers, Percy clambered over the edge and into the pile of metal pieces, flat and smooth between the hot cart. He raised his hands, holding up the tarp as you shot a hasty look in the direction of the voices; shadows were growing bigger on the wall. You flopped into the cart in an uncomfortable position of squashed-up legs, Percy’s longer set digging into your side. You tried to move over as far as you could to make room for him but really there wasn’t much point. He flipped the tarp over your heads, and together you held your breath.

It turned red. With the tarp now covering the pair of you, light from the flowing lava pit illuminated the red tarp, casting an amber glow.

Riptide? you mouthed to Percy. Your dagger sat in your backpack, crushed under your weight and between the cart.

He raised his hand ever so slightly, and twirled the pen in response.

“Bring it in?” One voice asked. It was deep.

“Yeah, movie’s just finished.”

Lowering your gaze from the side of the cart, you meet Percy’s. Movie?

Suddenly, the cart jerked, and tipped forward. You jostled into Percy, and thrust your hands out to either side of the cart. The metal was warm. You slammed your mouth shut, hoping nobody heard the surprised squeak.

“Hey! Thought you said this was a small load? Thing weighs a ton!”

Rude.

“It’s celestial bronze, idiot,” the other voice laughed. “What did you think, it’d be light? Hurry up and set it in the back, for crying out load. Hey, younglings! Watch the damn movie. I’ll answer your questions later.”

Had you found some secret school? Were people living here? Younglings didn’t sound very human, however. Nobody in their right mind would use that language.

But a movie did play. You strained your ears, trying to make some sort of sense of where you were. Growth spurts, and hygiene working in the forges.

“And lastly, don’t neglect your flipper hygiene!” The soapy voice rang over speakers. “Good flippers equal good mind!”

Percy spun Riptide between his fingers, dashing back and forth and swapping hands. His dark brows furrowed in concentration, tired eyes pinned on nothing in particular. They seemed brighter in here, somehow. More ‘calm before the storm’ rather than their usual ‘storm’.

“So, younglings, what is the correct name of our particular species? You, at the back!”

“Sea demons!” A voice cried.

“No,” the ‘teacher’ flatlined. “You?”

“Telekhines!” Another voice grumbled.

“Brill! And why are we here, guys?”

“Revenge! Revenge against the Greek god Zeus, for casting us down to Tartarus!”

“Indeed! And only after we created their weapons, might I add!”

So, you were dealing with a bunch of salty monsters. Great.

“Zeus cast us away,” the teacher continued in a mocking, sad voice. “Down to Tartarus. We had no control in this, young ones, no choice! Which is why now is our perfect time for a takeover! We will start here, in the very forges of Hephaestus! And soon after, the undersea furnaces, too!”

There was a huge uproar of applause and yells, some barking, some screaming. Terrible noise, honestly. And that was only the very tip of the iceberg.

You’d done your research after being at camp for so long. You’d come across their names, the Telekhines, but the gross result of the previous Titan takeover remained a subject to be avoided. To you, even reading about the ugliness of that period was enough, never mind looking at pictures of the creatures produced then. Maybe Ares was right, so long ago—you valued prettiness and vanity so much that you may as well have been a daughter of Aphrodite rather than Athena. Is that why your mother wouldn’t connect with you? Did she see her sister, rather than her daughter? Brains and beauty go hand-in-hand, but the Gods have their own set of values and expectations. You didn’t live up to too many of them. Maybe you were vain—perhaps a little too much. Probably ignorant, too.

On your head it was, then, that you had clue what you were up against.

“Who do we serve, Telekhines?”

“Kronos!”

“And when you all grow to full maturity, who will you serve? Whose army will you fight for?”

“Kronos!”

“Lovely. Now, at the back we have brought some scraps for you to practice making weapons with. Go ahead and take a look—but share! We don’t need any arguments today.”

You scrambled in place. Percy’s elbow kneaded into your stomach as he tried to set up Riptide early. Reflexively, your foot shot out at the feeling, and booted his knee cap. Your hand fell to his shoulder, urgently whispering, “backpack. Open my backpack!”

Alas, you both prepared too late. The tarp was thrown away by…human hands. Except the creatures they belonged to one-hundred percent were not human beings. A dozen faces looked in, with snouts like dogs, wet and slimy, and bodies of sea lions, all black and shiny.

“Demigods!” One growled.

“Eat them!” Cried another; from the back of group, there was a sound like nashers clashing.

Fortunately for you, they had also prepared too late. Riptide appeared in full form, and in one strong swoop, Percy decapitated the whole row. They disappeared in puffs of dust, sent straight back to where they came from.

“Back off!” Percy yelled, jabbing at another one.

You swung your arm back with your torch still in hand, and swatted one on the snout. It barked, but retreated, giving you the room you needed to clamber out of the cart.

You came face-to-face with a hunched over, crouching Telekhine with the features of a Doberman, snarling. Your shoes squeaked the further you backed up, right to Percy’s back. The back of his head very briefly knocked the top of yours. He had your back, and you most definitely had his. Very slyly, his free hand rose and made contact with your side, following the strap of your backpack and skimming across it blindly. What was he doing?

“New lesson, class,” said Percy. You clutched the flashlight harder, as the six-foot Telekhine began to advance, its fangs making an appearance briefly. The zipper of your bag jingled, and—ah, Percy was trying to get your dagger. “Monsters tend to vaporise when slashed with a celestial bronze sword. Just like this—!”

The Telekhines dove, driving Percy into gear. He abandoned your backpack, taking one firm swipe to the next set of monsters. They dissolved instantly, little clouds of ash and dust sending puffs in the air. The warm handle of Riptide was pressed into your palm straight after, and you dropped your flashlight. With both hands around the hilt, you swung the sword over your shoulder and back again like you would a baseball bat. The speed at which you did so enabled you to get a surprise hit on the advancing, taller monster, and you split him down the middle. Its essence went up like a bomb. The rest of the monsters were backed up, but you didn’t have long.

You threw the sword back to Percy blindly. Turning, he reached out a hand for yours. “Let’s go!” With eyes wide in anticipation and adrenaline, still furiously red in the face, he pulled you along. In tandem, you made a dive for the exit tunnel, where a door had been placed.

Bingo. Sliding into the safe space, you threw your body back against the door and held it in place while Percy’s deft hands made quick work of the wheel handle, spinning it until it locked. Monsters thudded on the other side, the sound like thunder in this winding tunnel.

Back in the open lava room, you noticed a couple of things that weren’t there before: one, four sea demons even taller than the rest, at least nine-feet; two, the statue and work of which they hammered away at in the middle of the room by the first bridge; three, the harsh language they spoke did not register in your mind. An old language, then. Old as hell.

“What are they making?” You muttered, trying to get a good look without exposing yourself. Sparks flew from the large piece of metal between them.

Percy sighed. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good. They were banished to Tartarus by Zeus for a reason. Now, I don’t like the guy, but I’m pretty sure he’d have a good enough reason for doing something like that.”

You’d nearly forgotten about the locked door at the end of the tunnel, until the creatures came falling through. Crawling over each other, they began to run towards you.

Percy grabbed you by the shoulders, sword dangerously close to your face. He’d never let it touch you, you trusted, but even the aura of it was unsettling so close to your skin. “Start running. Get a head start.”

You shook your head and scoffed. “Ha, no. We leave together.”

“We don’t have time to leave together!” He exclaimed, “I’m gonna hold them back while you get a head start. If you get to Hephaestus first, he might help us. Tell him what we found out, and I’ll be right behind. Got it?”

You liked to think, later, that the final look in Percy’s eyes was determination. It certainly seemed that way, storming bright, his mouth set firmly. You weren’t to fight a whole army with a flashlight and a dagger stuck deep in your bag with no time to grab it.

“Just go!” He ordered. You took a single step back, unsure, until he reached out with one strong hand and gave your shoulder a confident push. “I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

The army advanced and by this point, the taller, grown ones had taken notice of what was happening. More of those came out of the walls, too, and the dark shapes from earlier finally paid attention to the two of you.

In one movement, not thinking at all, you threw yourself forward, and threw your arms firmly around Percy’s neck. He smelled like sweat and boy and dirt from being down in the maze for so long, but you didn’t care one bit. He was warm and solid and sure and here, and his free hand touched your back, before tugging on your shirt. You moved away, to see something not unlike real desperation on his face.

“Now go,” he ordered, one last time.

And you listened.

You made a run for the way you’d came, and the sounds of the forge were drowned out the further you ran away. At first, it was fine—lights like the metal ones of an old Cold War bunker lit your path. Nausea reigned, until you and your heaving chest took a break against a wall just for a second. You hadn’t gone too far, but the Telekhines weren’t here yet. Percy said he’d be right behind. You’d wait here for him.

Or you could go back.

Kneeling, you slid your bag from your back and unzipped it. Percy had moved the zipper not even halfway in his mission to get your dagger for you. It sat between your jacket and your packets of food. You pulled out a water bottle and sipped slowly. Shrugging your bag back on your shoulders, you waited a second on weak legs, trying to regain some strength.

The tunnel remained silent if you excused your laboured breathing. The lights on the ceiling began to flicker, dimming and brightening again, probably trying to move you along and change itself. It wouldn’t have been unsettling if Grover and Percy were with you, but they weren’t, and you felt completely alone in this maze despite knowing they were still down here too. You laid your hand on your forehead and ran it through your sweaty hairline, trying to wipe the remains of your overheating from your face. As you did, and slowly got to your feet, the lights flickered even more intensely.

That was just before the ground began to shake. At first it was a tiny amount of trembling, and soundless, beneath your feet. Its intensity grew in size pretty quickly, from a little shaking to full-blown rumbling, like an explosion was popping off and heading your way. You stepped back once, trying to make sense of the direction, and only looked up the way you came just as the lights went out silently. It was like a bomb exploded, or some part of the tunnel had blown apart. A fierce gush of wind blew, so forceful you had no choice in being shoved to the wall, hot air hitting you square in the face. Bits of debris and dirt were blown in your eyes, gritting and painful. Just as it began, it ended, and the sound of the maze changing again came through loud and clear.

Which left you with two bouts of knowledge:

One: Percy had definitely just been killed.

and Two: you were totally, utterly lost, without even a flashlight.

Standing in the aftermath of hot, diffusing air from the direction of the forges, breathing in bits of explosion, there was absolutely no denying that your best friend had just been blown to smithereens. Nobody survived an explosion like that. Nobody.

Even so, your mind turned on autopilot. What happened after the explosion was numbed and distorted, like looking through murky water and only half-awake.

“No,” you mumbled, “no, no, no. Not happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”

Horror began to sink in, and you felt suddenly extremely, permanently wounded. Percy was, without a doubt, very, very dead. You scarcely moved, scarcely breathed. Staring at a wall replacing what you thought was where you came from, but now couldn’t be completely sure, because you’d dropped your flashlight back in the blown-up cavern, and your best friend was lying in bits and pieces of body somewhere you couldn’t reach. The mind runs rampant in panic. All you could think of was blood, and bones.

You might have screamed. You thought you did. Your throat turns sore and raw, and you figure you’ve been screaming for a while in the darkness on your own.

How strange it was that Percy had been the only thing keeping you safe this whole time. Without him, you feel exposed even when nothing can see you. They can definitely sense you. You hear something coming, like a body being dragged along the ground, and decide now would be a good time to get up and go. But your hands and feet are numb and tingling, evidence of a panic attack. Your head swims without sight, and you can’t feel the wall when you touch your fingers to it.

Your feet hurt when they take step after step until you’re running, dragging your fingers blindly along the dark tunnel as some semblance of a path finder. The walls change, and twice you fall. It’s embarrassing, scraping your chin on brick, eating dirt. You stumble up stairs, walk through cobwebs and feel things crawling up your neck, and scream now and again out of sheer annoyance, sheer exhaustion. You begin to pray, muttering insanely under your breath to anyone who will listen: first your mom, and you beg her to forgive any doubts you had. Then you beg Hermes, the patron of travellers, to at least give you direction here. And finally Ares, because the only thing fuelling your body is determination to not die down here.

Someone has your back.

Just as you’re beginning to freak out again, you feel the wall begin to curve around, and dip. And…grow…lighter? And it is, growing lighter. There’s a glow coming from a door at the end of the tunnel, and you’ve seen this door before.

You’ve made it back to Hephaestus’s workshop in one piece.

You think about knocking. And then you realise how stupid that idea is, and burst right in.

Heaving, sweating, and rubbing your sore chin, you stand wilting in the doorway of his workshop. He’s hanging from the ceiling on some sort of platform, but jumps down when he notices you.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat. “It’s you.” Hephaestus raises his hand to his beard and pats at it, putting out a great deal of fire burning there.

“Percy’s dead. And Grover is as good as.” You swallow, and kick the door shut blindly. “I want a way out of here, and you’re going to help me.”

“Look at you, making all the demands!” He laughs. It’s bellowing, and it rumbles the room. “Little demigod. Get a hold of yourself. You’re getting tears on my floor.”

You flinch in place at his cruelty. “My best friend just died!” You yell out. “Percy’s dead, because you told us to do something. This is your fault.”

Hephaestus looks up from the screwdriver in his hand, to meet your eyes head on. It’s like tiny fires are burning there. “Hold your tongue, daughter of Athena. It’s unbecoming. And I didn’t kill the other one—whatever was in there did that.”

“Telekhines,” you spat. A gritty tear rolls down your cheek. “That’s what’s in there. Or, was. It’s all blown apart now. So we went there for nothing. I hope you know they’re all against you. Kronos’s army is rising, and they’re coming for you.” And I can’t say I blame them.

He paused, raised a brow briefly, and scoffed. “Demigods don’t scare me.”

“No, but Kronos does. And he’s still coming whether you like it or not. You killed my friend. So I have a request.”

Hephaestus threw down the instrument in his hand, colliding with a metal worktop and echoing somewhat off the walls. You cringe, but refuse to back up. “Look at you, demigod, making all the requests.” He pauses for a moment. “But I cannot deny you, I suppose. You did as I asked. You want a way home.”

“Of course I want a way home,” you seethed.

He cocked his head and huffed. “Go out of here. Follow the tunnel left, and all the way down. You’ll find your way home, daughter of Athena.”

Without a ‘thank you’ you find yourself marching out of his workshop, abandoning the door. You do as he says, and it feels ridiculously easy, hand on the wall again and sliding your fingers across to follow the way it bends. Left, and all the way down. Your fingers hit a bump in the wall, and that little bump instantly begins to glow dark blue.

It makes you think of Percy, but you have no energy left to cry with.

Hephaestus wasn’t misleading you, then. Stepping away from the hole opening up over your head, dirt caves in and crumbles around your feet. A dirty ladder begins to shake its way out of the dirt wall, all the way up to the new gap in the earth.

You hear voices, as you heave up the ladder. It’s short, and doesn’t take long to reach the opening at the top, where a hand has reached down to help you up, a face peering in—Clarisse.

Her expression is one of apprehension, and it’s as serious and firm as ever. Her muddy eyes flick over your face, and you imagine you must look a state. Your chin still burns with your ground collision, cheek smarted.

For a second, as she pulls you with a strong hand from the Labyrinth, she doesn’t say anything. You barely look at Clarisse, crawling out of the hole. A distance away you can hear voices.

“They’re all patrolling that way,” she grumbled. “Bit of a stupid move on our part. You’re lucky I was here, and not…” she trails off. You’re not quite short who you were lucky she wasn’t to be, because you can’t find anything in yourself to question her.

Instead, you shake your head. Clarisse pulls you to your feet, and you’re vividly aware of the smell of camp, strawberries and the smell of the trees. The air is a cold shock above ground.

Finally you look up. You meet Clarisse’s somewhat concerned look. She stares expectantly.

“Percy’s dead,” you swallow. Clarisse’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, then everything falls from her face. “Grover’s gone. And I need to talk to Chiron.”

“Wait—” you stumble past her, tearing your arm from her grip. The world feels blurred. “They’re—they’re both dead?! They’re gone?”

“That’s what I said, Clarisse!” You snap, raising your arm to wipe your eyes.

“We all thought that you’d be fine down there!” She follows after you. “You’re—capable, at the least! I don’t understand!”

You walk quickly through the woods, tearing past groups of people on guard, and some kids playing by the cabins. Up ahead is the Big House, your destination. People call your name when they see you, but there’s nothing left to answer them with.

You wished you could smiled, walking into the house. You wished Grover and Percy were right behind you, laughing at something stupid as usual. You might have been greeted by your friends with cheers, quest completed successfully.

Murphy’s Law says anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. If you have a handful of opportunities of things that can go wrong, the one most likely to cause damage will occur. You’ve deducted that Murphy’s Law is charging your life.

So, you walk the creaking, fading steps of the Big House and along the porch. You thought of Percy at the very beginning of all of this, recovering on this porch. It made you think of returning here after Bianca passed. You throw open the door, bordered by white drapes, met with silence.

“Hey,” calls Clarisse. “Hey, look, I know how you feel. But we should get you to the med bay first. You look about to pass out.”

And you feel it, too. But you can’t rest until you’ve settled this.

Chiron’s face lights up when he hears you, standing in the doorway. Brown eyes warm and welcoming sadly fade, like he knows.

You choke on a sudden flow of tears, the back of your hand flying to your mouth. “He’s dead,” you tell him outright. “Percy’s dead.”

That’s the most important thing to tell. Not that you didn’t find Daedalus, or that you insulted a god down there, nor that you abandoned Nico. After all, it is the worst thing imaginable, in your eyes. All-consuming horror, taking over every inch of you. Your best friend, your longest friend, is dead.

“He saved me,” you whisper shakily.

There’s a lot of hush on camp, after that. The daylight was already fading when you came up above ground again, and it’s nearly gone now, the sky a dull, sad shade of dark-blue. Clarisse declared the time to be six o’clock in the evening exactly when you climbed out of the Labyrinth. You spend two hours going over everything in excruciating detail, from the second you stepped foot in the maze and the meeting with Hera, the blown-up forge, and what you saw. Everything feels strange after spending, as Chiron tells you, a week in almost complete darkness, with no way to tell time, in a setting altering itself every few minutes. The distant sound of laughing campers and the kids playing by the lake are long gone, as if the whole camp knows what has happened—maybe they do know. But nobody can feel the grief you feel, the struggle to really accept what happened. Logically, Percy is very, extremely dead and gone. Your heart is beginning something to change.

You don’t sleep well that night. Chiron writes down every little thing you say, and has Clarisse bring up some food for dinner for you. It’s kind, and unusual for her. She keeps her gaze lowered the whole thing you’re there, but she isn’t mean, so that’s something.

It’s nearly nine o’clock, and you’ve washed and dressed, ready for sleep in the spare room on the third floor of the house. There’s absolutely no way you can face company tonight—you’re drained completely, and know the second you hit the pillow you’ll be out. Nursing a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows per Chiron’s sympathy, you settle at the table, swirling around the pink and white delicacies in your mug with a teaspoon. It’s a kind thought to make it for you, but you don’t need hot chocolate; you need to scream. You need to grab the nearest bat, and smash up the kitchen. You notice a rolling pin hanging from the wall…

“We need to talk about the maze,” says Chiron in a low tone.

It’s late and you want to sleep. “We already did.” You clink the spoon against the mug.

“It’s just…my dear, nobody navigates the maze like that. The way you described, coming back in the dark… Chris Rodriguez and Clarisse were down there for weeks, separated, and neither managed to find a way out alone. Someone found them. Alone, they might have been stuck down there for a lot longer than they were. They were the last people to go down before yourself, Percy and Grover. You walked alone, and found your way not only to the workshop, but back out of the maze again in one short go.” He pauses. “How did you do it?”

You swallow and breathe in order to ebb away the annoyance you’re feeling a lot of. You shrug. “I uh…I just knew what to do. Hephaestus told me which way to go before Clarisse found me but—well, I just walked the rest. Couldn’t see a damn thing.”

“You just knew?” He repeats. Raising your head, Chiron is frowning deeply. “To me, it doesn’t seem right. Put it this way, my dear—nobody has been able to navigate the maze like that since Luke.”

You slam down the mug in an instant on the hard wood table, spilling the contents all over the table, dripping to the floor. “Alright, so you think I’m working with Luke? Because I walked a couple of tunnels alone? If you really believe after my best friend was killed by the very people Luke is working with, that I’d work with that guy, your head needs a good tap, no offence.” You stand up swiftly, knocking the chair back. He calls your name but you ignore it and stomp up the stairs to your temporary bedroom.

In there, you lock the door, get on your knees, and pray. Your tears soak your clasped hands at the side of the bed. You get on your knees, and you beg.

I’ve added the song ‘everything in its right place’ by Radiohead to the capsize playlist on Spotify if you want to give it a listen! Figured it worked well with the end of this chapter. After all, these things are Fated to unravel whether our main gal likes it or not ☺️ the song absolutely hits me in the gut. It’s the epitome of ‘oh, it didn’t go the way you planned? tough. it’s meant to be this way’ and the realisation that things are falling as they should.

taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf @prongsflower @bugszi

[isa-ghost]

Yea, undying duo if phil and foolish! Because phil is mr hardcore survival minecraft and foolish is a totem of undying :D

basically, both cubitos have a wack relationship with death (and, I think, aversion to using totems? I know phil for sure but I'm a bit unsure about foolish)

I've done some qFoolish ones before!

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil would take another "vacation" with Foolish any time. Especially since the second time around, he actually got to know him really well. He'd like to see him again the next time they're in the same realm. :')

If he wasn't so Fuck The Feds he would consider doing some kind of huge cool build like the kids wanted them to so badly. Maybe in the next realm they'll do it because they won't have some kind of government hovering around. It's just too bad the kids won't see it.

He wishes he could've actually had time to actually enjoy having the titan by the wall but the Feds relocated them all like right after. After the way Foolish and his builds were disrespected last time they shared a realm, Phil is PISSED the Feds had the audacity to basically do the same. Especially when Foolish (kind of) worked for them!!!

Of everyone he got close to on the island, Foolish is one of the ones he wishes he had more time with. He feels like they were weirdly in different worlds despite them both being present so often. That's,, probably kind of Ender King's fault, honestly. He feels like he fell away from multiple people when things got bad.

Tbh he kinda wanted to ask Foolish about wtf he was up to in the last realm they were both in (aside from building) but decided against it bc a majority of his memories from that one are awful. So either Foolish was suffering too, or Phil wouldn't trust himself not to envy him for not having a horrid time.

Insert "MCC is some kinda canon interdimensional death games" hc here. Phil has SEEN Foolish kick ASS in a way that wasn't hysteria-driven Bolas rabies.

I'd like to think there's been at least one event or something where they just sat together and gave each other building tips.

The historian part of Phil's brain wants to talk to Foolish about what his Literally Undying ass has seen and lived through. How long has he been alive?? As long as Phil? Longer? He needs to know.

He's not sure where the eternal banana came from and at this point he's too afraid to ask.

Phil thrives on being a bystander of Foolish and Bad's find each other in every universe curse. He's not sure if the last realm before QI started it or if they've crossed paths even More before QI, but boy does he love getting to watch their beef.

See, Foolhalo might find each other in every universe (derogatory), but Phil knows the REAL one is Foolish and Tina finding each other in every universe (affectionate).

Something something Foolish totem something something Phil refusing to use totems when he's home in Hardcore. Is this anything. Someone cook for me I'm too stupid.

Phil is never gonna understand when or how Foolish became "King of the Capys" or why they chose him specifically. He assumes Foolish just hung out with them the most or something.

He barely got to know Vegetta but he just KNOWS he was Foolish's type. Which is wild bc prior to getting government assigned spouses, Phil didn't even think Foolish was fruity. Somehow. Looking back, it actually kinda makes sense to him. From what little he knew of Foolish before QI.

Inversely, Foolish was absolutely STUNNED to know Phil is some flavor of poly let alone fruity at all. Which is hilarious bc Phil is too tunnel-visioned on other things to try hiding that fact. But no, shark man beyond baffled that Phil lowkey adjusted to having a government assigned husband almost instantly. AND became possessive of said husband over time.

[sanguinemanare]

Hii it is me again hehe

I saw somewhere on your blog maybe 2-3 times that BM likes light blue is there any particular reason?

Also you said that it was YN who initiated intimacy so how did Bloodmoon reacted the first time ? (Ik it’s kinda open to interpretation but I’d like your thoughts on this one please :3)

And also what if BM finds YN trying to escape peak obsession? What would be his reaction after YN failure or success? (Can he rage ? Or get really really mad that something doesn’t go his way?)

Let’s say that YN noticed that BM was getting a danger for their safety and decided to take action got him caged or trapped somewhere where they still could see him and interact, what would be is plan ? Would he think of a way to get YN to free him or would he turn to his strength ?

Could Bloodmoon ever learn to be gentle because of that?

Ok well that’s all that i can think of rn ><

Sorry if my questions are obvious, it’s bc im the type of person who like to have the author thought and pov about their creation!

Hi hi! Honestly I love the appreciation and curiosity. Sorry if any of my replies don't make sense, I have a hard time putting my thoughts into words sometimes lol!

So his favorite colour is light blue. There is no specific reason as to why. I honestly just thought it'd be funny, just a big murderous character who loves hurting others, pain and blood and then just….likes a bright blue colour. (I have a stupid sense of humor)

Well for the intimacy part I don't have any set lore behind it. Just that Y/N would have to be the one to initiate because of the type of character Bloodmoon is. Think of him like a slasher film killer LOL Bloodmoon's reaction to any kind of affection is generally confusion and then curiosity, so it'd basically be the same with Y/N showing "interest" that way. He doesn't understand why someone would be showing him any form of it, because everyone else shows fear, anger and disgust. Y/N would basically have to be just as insane as him to start anything like this, I'mma be real LOL. why you getting comfortable with this man that could kill you in a heart beat. Afterward, intense possessiveness would settle and decrease Y/N's chances of leaving even more so.

Y/N trying to leave/escape Bloodmoon at peak obsession can get intense. He always sees these attempts as a game and enjoys the struggle from them. If Y/N is successful at leaving, Bloodmoon would be trying everything in his power to bring them back. This is incredibly dangerous for Y/N and anyone else who is around as he would no longer be thinking clearly and basically tunnel vision on Y/N. Frustration and anger do come into play if he's not getting what he wants. If the emotion is strong enough it eventually twists and turns to a more psychotic/deranged state and it triggers his base hunt and kill coding. There is a very high chance that if Y/N is captured during this phase that they will die.

In my AU Bloodmoon is already basically caged within a specific area so he'd be relatively used to it if it were to happen again. He would be patient and most definitely trying to coerce Y/N into either going to him or letting him out.

During peak obsession however, there would definitely be much more physical outbursts from him. That room would be utterly destroyed LOL. One thing he can do is use his corrupt coding to take control of a few things in the building. He's not exactly good at it though and a lot of the time it ends in failure but during his time trapped he would probably try to hone it to free himself if physically breaking out isn't an option.

Y/N would experience moments of complete silence and stillness from him while he tries this and it can last for hours. If he has literally no way out, he would obsessively watch Y/N any time they appear. Eventually over time he would lose his mind even more so and become even more dangerous.

Soft and gentle moments with him are extremely rare to the point of almost being non existent. He is incredibly stubborn and it's basically in his coding to be aggressive. Changing this would basically change who he is as a being. They could change his personality and coding but it would just be an entirely new animatronic.

[bitchinbarzal]

I thiiiiiink we need an update on ivy saying that she'll never wear rangers colours or jersey. surely she has to show support for sasha somehow. or if it really goes against her belief system, maybe a custom islanders jersey with Sasha's name and number on the back? trying to find a loophole for our girl 🫶🏼🫶🏼

“I’m not wearing it! They’ll hang me from the rafters of UBS!”

“Babe I’m literally in the playoffs you can’t seriously not wear my jersey?” Sasha looked at her like she was crazy.

They ended up in a huge fight, how Ivy was making this an issue when it wasn’t one. That their dads didn’t even play anymore so it didn’t matter.

“You don’t get it! My dad was a freaking idol on the island, they retired thirteen and everything!”

“Well Ives don’t freaking come then! If you can’t put aside this stupid thought to support me I don’t want you there!” Sasha storms out of her apartment leaving Ivy wondering if he was right.

Ivy grew up around taking sides. Her mom worked for the devils while her dad was the golden boy of Long Island, they constantly fought over which jersey to put her in but they never let it get to this point — was she missing something?

She called her mom, explained the situation and her mom only chuckled

“Baby we didn’t care about which jersey you wore, although I’ll admit our retros were better but you hated the colour red. We were just excited you loved hockey! Maybe the rangers is a different obstacle to tackle but your dad isn’t going to be mad. This is your life now, not ours and who knows maybe when he hits the market your dad will give him a call to come to the island now he’s in management and all that and you’ll be back in orange before you know”

Ivy showed up at Madison Square Garden that Tuesday wearing a jersey — a red, white and blue jersey with Zegras and the number 11 on the back.

Youngest goalie to record a playoff shut-out. Ivy could feel the happiness radiating off of the ice and she was just happy for him.

Making her way down to the tunnel she waited for his never ending media availability to be done so she could talk to him. Watching on the TV in the room.

“So Sasha you broke Jake Ottinger’s record of youngest goalie to record a shut out in the playoffs! How are you feeling?”

He’s sweaty and smiling “It’s-it’s amazing I don’t have words I just, I love this team and I love the fans”

“We noticed you had a special guest in red, white and blue tonight” the interviewer says, the picture of you panning up on the screen “Your girlfriend, Ivy wearing a rangers jersey for the first time this season i think… reckon she had some good luck in that jersey for you?”

Ivy could see the tears collecting in Sasha’s eyes as he looked at the screen “I didn’t know… I didn’t know she’d be here tonight or wearing that so I’m kinda surprised but yeah she’s gotta wear it all the time now I guess”

“Well thanks for your time and congratulations!”

He changed quickly out of his kit and into clothes before seeking out Ivy, hoping she’d stayed.

He found her where she always waits for him. When she saw him she did a twirl “Like it?”

“I love you Ivy” he announced before walking up and lifting her off the ground into a kiss.

“This isn’t about my dad anymore Sash, this is our lives — our team”

[alexanderwales]

It's been a while since I've seen something in a movie or show that feels so egregiously stupid that it actually bothers me, but then I watched Dark Matter on Apple TV, and ... oh boy. Spoilers follow. I have not read the book it's based on, and haven't finished the show.

The basic premise is that there's a way to travel between worlds by injecting a drug and closing yourself in a specially made metal box, which puts you in a state of superposition and then allows you a long tunnel of doorways into other worlds. The doorways respond to thoughts and emotions, but if you're good enough, and know this secret, you can recognize a precise world. Quantum physics does not work like this, but whatever, I will accept this as part of the Rules of the Show.

So our protagonist gets kidnapped by our antagonist, who is an alternate universe version of him. He eventually realizes he's in another universe and escapes into the box, leaving him trying to get back to his original world, Sliders style. This, too, is something that I'm willing to accept. The show alternates between our antagonist in the home universe and the protagonist trying to find his way home and seeing some of the roads not taken (actually mostly dystopias).

The first time I thought "wow, this show is actually stupid" was when the possibility of stealing from other universes was brought up. The antagonist says "you can't rob banks, bills have serial numbers, people would notice". And then we just move on. But what about gold? What about movies, or novels, or patents, or a hundred other things you could take from other worlds? This is just never brought up again.

And okay, I can give this a pass. The book was a thriller and the show is trying to be a character study, and you don't want to spend time on thinking about how to exploit infinitely many other Earths. But why bring it up then? Why this lazy deflection?

The second moment, when I had to accept that the show was simply stupid, was when the protagonist is trying to go home and is checking each world to see whether it's the right one. He goes to his home, sees that it is his home, grabs a knife from the counter, goes upstairs to his wife, and she screams at him because in that world he's in prison and they're divorced (for reasons that really should have been explained, but are not, I'm really not asking for much here, the show is a "path not taken" character study and you're just not going to tell us what the path actually was, come on).

I understand wanting a scene like this in the show. It's dramatic, it's thrilling, we're not sure it's the right universe, it's a twist ... but it's dumb. Why is our protagonist not using the internet to check these things? He's a college professor, can't he at least double-check that he's on the faculty page or whatever? Doesn't a search for his name or his wife's name instantly give him 99% of the information he needs? He doesn't have a phone, okay, whatever, he can still go to a public library or internet cafe or just pay some rando to use their phone for five minutes. This is leaving aside the fact that the show has no sense of travel times, and floats merrily from location to location, when in reality the trip from the box to his house should be at least thirty minutes, if not more. It's faster to just check the internet for these things. Find some wifi, my dude.

I try to be understanding about these things. You're writing a show, you have a metaphorical budget of time and a literal budget of money. But come on.

[sergeifyodorov]

calle, mikko and eichel for the send me a character ask thing >:)

hehehe taylorrrr <33

i confess im terrible at remembering my first impressions so thats gonna be the least filled out part but lets get INTO it

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Cale: “Everyone has been talking about this man’s rosy cheeks and -- wow, he really does have rosy cheeks”

Mikko: [vague absorption of names you hear when you’re watching a game but you don’t know what’s going on][oh yeah that mikko rantanen guy is an av]

Eichel: “The guy who’s kind of bitchy”/ lbr it was mceichel slashfic

IMPRESSION NOW

Cale: Sweet little rosy-cheeked milkmaid of a babygirl. That hair looks like a baby bird. Dude is a nerd, and probably going to be the Avs’ next captain. That Conn Smythe run was memorable as hell, and I’ll always remember him as a playoff performer, even though the Avs are literally all hurt. Except Mikko.

Mikko: HART 2023 WINNER IN MY MIND. For some reason to me (ngl, my opinion on the Avs is “favourable but I don’t think about them”) he is the only Av who played the whole season -- he carried the entire fucking team through that early-season hell where everyone was really really hurt, as opposed to only mostly hurt like they were in the back half (plus Natemac was back). All this has cemented to me that he is an underappreciated big beautiful blonde moose of a man. Great tits as well if i have to be honest.

Eichel: My bitch wife. Mad respect for being apparently the only hockey out there who knows how to take care of his body (i see u going right down the tunnel when somethings wrong instead of trying to tough it out on the bench. Yesssssss). Robbed of the Smythe. People keep trying to say that he’s not better than McDavid -- this is obvious, but that’s not the point! Also I think it’s funny that that attitude (read: self-respect) has caused people (sabres fans) to note him as a locker-room cancer. It turned out that it made him a playoff performer instead. Not that I want VGK to win more Cups (for purely petty reasons, namely that my leafies should win out), but I do look forward to seeing him tear up the playoffs from here to kingdom come. Also, he’s not objectively handsome but i want him carnally.

FAVOURITE MOMENT

Cale: Just watching him skate/man the power-play. His edges are gorgeous, he’s really in the top tier of pure skaters out there. Also the Stroopwaffel Incident

Mikko: Hm. Probably that one media where they had Avs do the heart hand thing and he didn’t understand it? Himbo supreme. Just so large, and so beefy, and so stupid

Eichel: Do I really have to say it?

IDEA FOR STORY

Cale: He is the barmaid that the cowboy (natemac?) sees when he enters the mysterious Old West town’s saloon for the first time. He’s got this sort of quiet demeanour that everyone knows not to mess with, because he’s smart as a whip and he’ll get you if you don’t know what’s good for you. Maybe it turns out he’s also the rival gunslinger and we can have this Dark Cale against nate. (and then they kiss)

Mikko: Equal parts romcom boyfriend and werewolfcore. Werewolf boyfriend. I’m sure there are no paranormal romances with a plot that can be established in this manner

Eichel: I’m still on the mceichel train I prommy but I admit the eichel section in scheherazade was really quite fun… I’d like to stay a little bit in that universe, only not plunking auston in just having him already be there. The eichelston teammates to ex-teammates to teammates again to lovers. They could be gossipy haters together. They could kiss under the moonlight. 

UNPOPULAR OPINION

Cale: I think this new failgirl era (questionable concussion treatment) is a dangerous trajectory for him. We’ve already seen many, many NHLers with promising careers interrupted or cut short by concussion mismanagement, and Cale is one of the best and brightest of the younger generation. I’d hate to see him go down the path of someone like Kariya.

Mikko: HART 2023 WINNER IN MY MIND!!!

Eichel: I’m not sure if eichelthirsting is unpopular or not (or if any of my opinions are unpopular really), but that is what i’m going to say. I saw pictures of him post-Cup with his shorts rolled up all the way and that leg exposed to get the Cup tattoo, and. Awooga. 

FAV RELATIONSHIP

Cale: Cale x a good nights sleep, cale x stroopwaffel. I think natecale is probably a pleasing one, just because they’re both Canadian Weirdguys, but i’m going to be honest I haven’t read many Cale fics. (Yes, to anyone who might b reading, this IS an opportunity to drop your fic recs in here. Id love em)

Mikko: Arsirane, I don’t have time for messing around

Eichel: McEichel, just because of that juicy juicy Narrative. They don’t have any personal beef with each other, but if you lock them in a room I bet they’d complain to one another so much about the media that they’d start spontaneously kissing. 

FAV HEADCANON

Cale: ex-emo kid. We’ve all seen that one photo of him with the bad black hair dye job, whether it’s real or not. I would just like to state that I also believe he can bust out I Write Sins Not Tragedies on the karaoke machine if he is JUST this side of drunk and horny enough.

Mikko: Reportedly funny, but probably the kind of funny where about half the time he doesn’t realize that what he’s said is hilarious, but everyone else laughs at it anyway (he doesn’t mind this. It’s a point of pride)

Eichel: im gonna vote him Most Likely To Kiss His Teammates Platonically On The Mouth 2k23

[let-me-love-you-loki]

...Ready for It?--Ch. 2

Chapter 2

           There was a split second of silence before the crowd literally erupted. I couldn’t remember ever hearing so many boos in my life. And I was the daughter of the Young Bucks��I’d heard them get booed more than anyone else in the world.

           Papa slumped to the side, barely catching himself on his hand before he fell straight over. His eyes were glassy and fixed somewhere in the distance. Almost as if he had been knocked dazed. Or as if he were crying.

           The sight of it—whatever it was—broke my heart. There was a sudden, overwhelming rush of guilt at having hidden this whole thing from them. I knew now that Dad and Papa would have understood the whole thing. They knew how to tell amazing stories. And they would have helped me tell this one. But I’d decided to keep them out of the loop. Mom and Nikki, too.

           I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to think about having to face Mom backstage. She was going to murder me, least of all because I’d legitimately knocked my sister out with a superkick.

           “Mattie,” came Dad’s voice from behind me. He’d pulled himself up on the apron and practically clawed his way under the bottom rope into the ring. “What happened?”

           His blue eyes bounced between me, Papa, and Nikki. He looked as if he couldn’t figure out where to focus and the confusion on his face just broke my heart even more. How was I ever going to make this up to them? To explain it?

           Dad crawled over to Nikki and shook her. “Nikki? Nikki?” He shook her again, tapping her hard on the cheek. “Nicole!”

           I stayed rooted to the spot as I felt some of the resolve at this whole thing slip away. For a moment, I wanted to take it all back. When he couldn’t wake Nikki up, Dad rolled to his feet and stomped across the ring toward me. He pointed back at my sister.

           “What happened, Mattie? Did Cash do that?”

           In my mind’s eye, I saw Bub sitting at the production table watching the screen. Waiting for me to make a move. To do something. Anything. We’d spent so long planning this. I couldn’t let it fall apart so soon.

           Before I could speak, music blared through the arena. Dun. Dunana-dunana-dunana-dunana-na. Burberry patterns lit up the big screens. Dad and I looked toward the tunnels. Behind us, Cash laughed. Papa came to and started crawling toward Nikki.

           “Cut my music,” Maxwell said from the top of the ramp. “Cut my music. Cut my music.”

           He stopped and stood staring down at the ring. There was a smirk on his face that made me feel mildly ill. Of course, he hadn’t come alone. Wardlow hovered behind him over his right shoulder. Shawn Spears was on his left, a steel chair emblazoned with his logo in his hand.

           “Bucks, Bucks, Bucks,” Maxwell sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble. And you needed your little girls to come save you.”

           He took a few steps forward. The others followed right behind him. “Pathetic. You’re too old and too stupid to realize that it’s time to move on. You’re not the top of the food chain in AEW anymore, boys.” He wiggled his thumb between himself, Wardlow, and Spears. “We are. Isn’t that right… Mattie?”

           The smirk curved into an evil grin as he met my eyes. I sucked in a shallow breath and turned to look at my Dad. He looked at me with confusion in his blue eyes—the eyes that Mom always said were so much like mine. He glanced at Papa, who was trying to shake Nikki awake. My gut churned. I hated that I’d actually hurt my sister.

           “Tea?” Dad whispered in disbelief.

           I forced myself to scowl. “I’m not that little girl anymore.” Not giving myself time to think, I took a firm step forward and slammed my knee into the side of Dad’s head. He looked stunned before slumping back onto his heels.

           The crowd booed even louder. Some shouted horrible things at me, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was how worried I was for Nikki and how I was going to explain this to my parents when it was all over. Maybe I could get Bub to do it for me. Most of this had been his idea to begin with.

           Maxwell started laughing as I rolled beneath the bottom rope and hopped to the ground. I backed up the ramp, doing my best to sneer at where my family sat in various stages of disbelief. Cash and Dax had pulled themselves to their feet and walked just a few feet behind me.

           “Good job, Jackson,” Dax said just loud enough for those in the front row to hear. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

           “Shut up,” I tossed back, trying to push as much venom into my words as possible. “I don’t give a damn what you think.”

           He laughed. I turned my back on the ring and looked up at Maxwell, Wardlow, and Spears. When I was halfway up the ramp, I stopped and propped my hands on my hips. I let myself bask in the boos of the crowd—in the reality that I’d tossed a heel turn at them out of nowhere and they’d gone from loving me as the princess of AEW to hating me in half a second. The smile and heat on my face just then was genuine.

           Now there was just one thing left.

           “Come on, Mattie,” Maxwell said, taking a few sauntering steps toward me. “Come to Daddy.”

           He held out his arms, a look on his face that was so smug that I had to fight the urge to walk right up and smack him. Instead, I tried to look coy and sashayed the last few feet between us.

           And went right past him. Wardlow loomed over me with his broad shoulders and serious expression. He was in a grey suit and plum colored shirt that had clearly been tailored perfectly for him. His brow rose as I settled my hand on the center of his chest.

           My God, I thought with a snapping realization, he’s solid. And warm.

           Wardlow looked confused. The expression only deepened as I slid my arm around the back of his neck and practically jumped into his arms. He wrapped me in them as I hooked my legs over his hips. Those dark eyes went wide just before I crashed my lips against his.

***

           “That was brilliant!”

           “What the fuck was that?”

           “How could you?!”

           People started shouting the moment we came through the curtain in the back. I glanced at the monitor nearby and watched as my fathers helped roll my little sister to sit up. Papa was still oozing blood. Dad looked like he was crying.

           Bub stood up from the production table with a wide smile. This whole thing had been his idea. It had taken him weeks to convince me to go along with it. And even longer once he told me who he expected me to betray my family for.

           Mom was still sitting there staring at me with her eyes wide. I could see the tears that threatened to spill out. I hadn’t just betrayed my sister and our tag team. I hadn’t just turned my back on my fathers. What just happened was more than a pair of superkicks and a V-trigger. It was ignoring everything that had made me who I was.

           A hand wrapped around my upper arm and whipped me around. Maxwell stood with an angry snarl on his face. “What the fuck just happened, Jackson? That wasn’t what we agreed on! You just made me look like a fool.”

           Shawn chuckled behind his hand. Dax and Cash looked away, clearly trying to hide their amusement at what just occurred. Only Wardlow had a truly neutral expression. I watched him from the corner of my eyes. He had his hands clasped in front of him and his deeply dark eyes were fixed on me.

           Good God, it made me feel small.

           I shrugged. If I was going to be part of the Pinnacle, I supposed it was time to start acting like one of them. “What’s the first thing you told me, Maxie? Play the best angle. And I did.”

           His jaw dropped as I stepped around him and hooked my arm through Wardlow’s. He arched one brow but didn’t speak. I looked back at Maxwell and grinned. But before I could say another word, I saw my mother stand up. Loud thumping came from the steps leading down from the face tunnel. Dad came thundering around the corner. Papa wasn’t far behind, but he moved sluggishly from blood loss and having to carry my sister.

           I saw them coming. Saw the absolute betrayal and hurt and anger in their eyes. Dad was a few feet away. Adrenaline spiked through me. I couldn’t bring myself to explain the whole thing to them just then.

           Without thinking, I grabbed Wardlow by the hand and took off running as fast as I could down the hallway. It felt like dragging a ton of bricks behind me, but it strangely never occurred to me to let go and run away on my own.

           “Mattie?” Wardlow’s voice came out low and quiet, tinged heavily with confusion.

           “I’ll explain later!” I shouted back. We skidded around the corner. The back door of the arena was in sight. Momentary freedom was within reach. I could avoid having to face my family for just a little bit longer. I had time to figure out how to tell them why I’d kept it all a secret. Why Bub, Maxwell, and I had cooked this whole thing up behind their backs.

           Someone shouted my name from behind. My heart dropped down in my chest. I could feel it settled against my stomach. It made me want to vomit.

           “Mattea Kourtney Jackson!” My mother’s voice echoed through the hallways. It was just a matter of time before she caught up with us.

           Wardlow slowed as if he were planning on turning around. I yanked hard on his hand. “Don’t you dare!” I hissed over my shoulder. “I’m not ready to explain all that to them right now!”

           “Hey!” Another voice came out of nowhere just ahead. Kat Prince appeared out of a doorway, a mischievous grin on her face. “That was brilliant. Here. Take these. It’s the black one with the car seat in the back.”

           Kat had tossed me a set of keys. She winked.

           The fear in my chest relaxed just a little. “Thanks, Aunt Kat!”

           Without another thought, I dragged Wardlow through the door into the darkness. I pressed the keys into his large hand and gave him a desperate look. “Please, just get me out of here for half an hour. So I can figure out how to tell them why I just did that.” Wardlow watched me for a fraction of a second—as if he would say no—before gesturing me to go ahead of him.

_______

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@lilred91

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@maelleoute

@librathepheonix13

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin

@spaghetti-hoop

@ryantaylorgirl

@mrsmatt​

@feralgremlin-nickjackson​

[blazernot]

The Magnus Archives Season 4

Okay so i like just finished the finale so my thoughts are very scattered but bear with me

John, my beloved, was trying so hard this season. But sadly he was stuck in a basement full of women that hated him. He tries but he's also a massive hypocrite. "We need to communicate" oh that's rich coming from you. He just kept making stupid decisions and never thought anything through. He is a disaster but it's very entertaining and I love him.

I of course love all the girlies. My favorite was definitely Daisy, if you've been following my liveblogs it's kinda obvious. But everyone else was also great. I love super spy Bashira. I feel really bad for Melanie choosing to blind herself but I also completely understand her decision. I hope her and Georgie can have peace, somehow.

Martin!! It was so weird seeing him be like the main thing this season. It made sense though since he always was the guy in the backround so it was nice to have him be center stage. It's also so sad that that's what tipped him off to the plan, he's not some chosen on hero. The lonely is honestly really fitting sadly. It was also so strange to watch him bite back at times and push John away, I'll get back to this later.

Peter is so entertaining, I mean Elias was as well but Peter with his "Grubby Jesus" and "Pet Murderer" stole my heart. They really are just a bickering divorced couple. Their fight in the tunnels was peak custody battle energy with Martin just awkwardly in the corner.

I love monster John, it's so eerie. Like that one lady and her encounter was so, eheheh, like I didn't want to believe John would do that, but of course he would. Everyone being scared of him, especially since last season John declared that he would trust them and be better, but I also don't blame them.

I did not believe that the Daisy rescue would work- but gosh I'm happy it did. I adore her. She's probably dead now after the finale but I have to hope. That whole thing was tense, but now they are the dirt duo and friends because who else is there to be friends with. They listen to bad radio shows its great.

OKAY SO- back in season one I thought stuff like "Oh the fandom totally ships John and Martin even though they hate each other" because that's what fandom does and that's a very popular dynamic. And I thought it would just stay like that?? Like it would be meek Martin and annoyed John and that would be their permanent dynamic. Looking back that was a stupid assumption but I'm used to ships like that going nowhere. But NO and oh my gosh I didn't think about John and Martin's relationship this much until this season. It was the pining the "I'm doing this for you" "I miss you" "I'm here if you need me" the distance that made it so clear that you're the only person that could get me, Martin defending John when he talked to Georgie. John wanting the two of them to gouge their eyes out and escape together. Then- THEN the finale where John once again saved someone he loved from impossible odds. And like, they're canon right? Like they openly love each other? They stayed in a hideout together for weeks and Martin tells him about cows he sees on his walks. Like what else could you want. I'm certain the fandom went mental

I'm also certain they went mental over the finale, like I currently am. I want, no, need Elias dead. I did not expect him to be the finale boss. Like what. I was wondering what a beholding ritual would even do or be, but I guess I got some kind of answer.

But seriously I hate Elias- Tim died for NOTHING. Tim died for literally no reason. So much of this could've been stopped but no. Brilliant plan though, like as it was being read off I was speakless. Like I am shook to the core, Yonah and Eli can testify they saw me go mental on discord. I kept expecting Martin to walk back in just on time to stop everything but no. And now we're screwed and I have no idea how this series will end but it'll be with a bang that's for sure

[charizardstolemynickname]

FINAL PART EXPLAINING MY REACTION TO S2 EP8 BECAUSE AHHH

Okay i have been writing all my feelings down on a piece of paper whilst watching this episode because last episode's reaction was REALLY weird so i wanted to be organised and have all my reactions available to write here, and so I have been just copy and pasting all what I wrote into these posts

....I can't do this on this post as most of my writing has been "AHHHHHHHHH" and many excited scribbles but I shall try to make it coherent and true to my original intention

I shall now, begin now the warning has been stated, ahem

"COTTON CANDY HAIRED GODDESS"?!?!? "PURSUIT OF LOVE"?!?!? FUCK YEAH WE GET GAY CANON AHHHHHHHH

Hooty is actually so funny, he is great in this episode

Luz is so me trying to deal with my feelings, iconic

...Hooty this sounds weird why the basement

DID YOU KIDNAP AMITY?!?!

...........................................

AMITY WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO FORGET IT ALL?! BROOOOOO

AHH THE BLUSHING THE HOLDING, fuck this is so gay.....i'm not crying, you are

Hooty, in the nicest way possible, where the fuck did you find all this stuff IN SUCH A SHORT TIME?? Does Eda just have this set up 24/7!?!

Hooty the fucking Romance Swan in the Tunnel of Love, for fucks sake I can't stop laughing

AHHHHHHH (many excited scribbles) JUST LET IT HAPPEN LUZ

NOOO AMITY DON'T BE SAD THAT ISN'T WHAT LUZ MEANSSSSS

(this is all wrote in bigger handwriting)

LUZ FOR FUCKS SAKE

DON'T LEAVE AMITY IT IS NOT STUPID LUZ SJFOLNF (more excited scribbles)

HOOTY?!?!?!

Hooty is such an overdramatic mood, where are you going bro, you are the house

Oh fuck the house is falling- AWW King and Eda in the air, would be a cute moment IF HOOTY WASN'T BREAKING THE HOUSE

KING MAGIC?! AGAIN?! Woah, that is actually so cool, is it a power of friendship type thing? idk and any other time I would LOVE to find this out about King BUT RIGHT NOW I NEED MY WLW

"Not as okay as you, Dang girl!" Literally my reaction to Eda too, me and Luz are the same

Hooty's tears right now could legit cry a river, there cannot be a drought right now because of hooty

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HOOTY YOU ARE BREAKING THE ROMANTIC MOOD

Aww supportive Mum Eda to Luz's gay panic

ITS HAPPENING?!?!!!!!!

"I have no idea what my future holds but it would be so cool if you were in it" SIHDFNDSJ (more excited scribbles)

AMITY ASKED?!??!?! FUCK YEAHHH

AND NOW THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS GODDDDD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Hooty is still crying but its now positively so that's great, i was so close to crying too Hooty, I get you

AWWWWWWWWWWW HISTORY DATE!?!? FUCKKK

KING MAGIC CONTROL, HELL YEAH PROUD OF YOU DUDE

KING'S DAD?!?!! HOOTY FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!!

...And this concludes my written reaction to this episode, I will probably post a more coherent reaction to the episode later but GOD WE WIN THESE

A WIN FOR THE GAYSSSSSSS, I am going to EXPLODE, THE GAY PANIC REPRESENTATION THIS EPISODE IS SO REAL

and what we learned, is that if we ever meet a weird worm demon attached to a house, we should let it create a tunnel of love for us to confesses to our crush with

[krombopulos-mercenary]

If Micheal had had the time - if he'd had the oxygen - he'd have the presence of mind to try wiping the blood off of the knife handle. It all just made everything too slippery, his serrated graspers couldn't find the purchase necessary to tug the damn thing out of the corpse.

The drone was on him too quickly, and his grip was crushing.

Mike could not only feel but hear his own chitin begin to creak and even crack as the pressure mounted. His bleary eyes stared into the face of the blood thirsty Bezerked out asshole who'd finally be the one to lay claim to his life after so many had tried and failed. What a way to fucking go. As much as Krombopulous Micheal tried to fight his fate, it seemed the Federation would be the death of him after all.

His own Beserker state left the defector feeling only rage and annoyance at this, instead of crushing despair. It was all he could do to struggle and gasp in that iron grip, his end seemingly imminent as Mike's very chest felt like it was about to give-

SHUNK!

Tunneling vision focused in on that knife that had sunk itself into the Drone's skull. Shining gold for the golden boy of the Federation. Scrimblo Kenneth made his enviable entrance. To Micheal's tremendous luck; the defector barely managing to land and keep on his feet once released from his would be murderer's literal death grip. Mike quickly finds the wall once more, leaning on it for support as he watched the Grand Leader of Outpost 8 stick his landing. The assassin just trying to get his breath back, his still struggling lung making him audibly- and painfully - wheeze with each breath.

Their difference in state couldn't be more different. Micheal hadn't even realized he'd sat down on the ground, back still on the wall, until his knife was being skid towards him and Kenneth was ordering him to his feet. It would only be much later on, when allowed actual time to think, that Micheal would feel so sour about just how quickly his Beserker self followed Ken's command. Regardless of their current situation, the way the killer would grab up his weapon, force himself to attention on his feet, and step into formation with Scrimblo on order would just not sit right with Mike once back to his regular mind.

But in the moment, it's all a nonissue. Micheal stepping into position at Kenneth's side and trying to take measured breathes, as if to force his bad lung to work properly.

"How many more? Everyone else I was with is headed up in the elevator. We were on the way to route M." He gasps out quickly, wiping his knife off on whatever clean segment was left on his shirt.

==

It was like a scene from one of those stupid horror movies. The ones where a character goes 'It's right behind me, isn't it?" right before whatever monster they'd been trying to outrun finally ends them. Except it wasn't a movie. It was reality.

And yet Amy could do nothing but lay there and watch it all unfold before her, all the same. Fear and survival instinct making her go still and silent as the bullets kept flying and bouncing around the elevator. Knicking Rick right on the fucking cheek and either killing or injuring others in the space in varying degrees. Amy was one of the lucky few to not get a mark- yet.

It's a relief when finally the gun was empty, but it was short lived when they all realized that the bullet hailstorm had NOT ended with the little void creature shot to bits. Tension mounted as everyone who could looked around in anxious horror, all of them finding the tiny lizard person just as Rick was following it's spit trail and looking up-

Amy let out a small whimper, her pale faced fear mirroring Rick's own. She was still frozen still as she witnessed that horrible alien thing let out it's hungry little war cry and leap for it's target of choice. Her red faceted eyes going wide as it bit onto the human's hand and Rick started to , understandably, freak the fuck out!

His blood went everywhere as the drug dealer stumbled about in his blind, pained panic. Tripping over bodies and corpses in the small space and splattering the walls in red blood. Finally, finally Amy got into action when some of that blood splattered across her face. Her mouth and nose protected thanks to the bandana she still had tied on.

It was too much. A switch flipped deep in her mind, down in the primal recesses. And she was up and on her feet with the knife from someone's belt in her hand before anyone else in the space would realize she was even moving. Amy was not a Bezerker. Had never been trained to become a Bezerker. But she did have the same blood as her brother, that potential for crazed strength was there.

And right now her body was pulling out all the stops, moving more quickly than it had in literal years- almost as if she'd suddenly reverted back to her prime. Her narrowed glare a one for one comparison to Micheal's own in that moment.

Just as the young soldier would shakily raise his gun, Amy was moving up on Rick. Her knife raised high. The human was moving erratically, but that didn't mean his movements weren't trackable. All she had to do was wait for his arm to swing back around and -THERE!

She swung, aiming for the little lizardperson's spindly neck in order to just decapitate the damn thing! The knife was sharp, it's blade unyielding, and the creature was weak and new to life. Barely having it's first taste of blood. It should work-!

X

[koskela-knights]

Night: Stars

Sharing chapter 3 of Bleeding Hearts here becos I live for soft moments 🥺

Type, type, type. Backspace. Type, type, backspace. Ctrl X. type, type, delete file.

Feverishly, Alan is typing away on Ilmo’s laptop. He has to remind himself that this is just an outline, a nonsensical first draft. It barely has any flesh on its bones, so he should be safe. This document isn’t useful for the Dark Presence to manipulate at all. But there are only a few words appearing on the screen. Just a string of words. Not even complete sentences. It has been like this since they returned from the nursing home. Dinner had been served, but Alan could barely get anything in his stomach. The dread of mere trying had paralyzed him once more. He’s such a failure on so many levels. The Dark Presence is not in his reach right now. He should be safe. He is safe, damn it. Yet his hands are clammy and he tries to breathe through his nose again. In, and out. In, and out. Tunnel vision leads him to stare at the naked document. It’s taunting him. It’s no different than his writer’s room up in the retirement home or the Dark Place and-

 Snap!

Ilmo’s fingers snap right in front of his eyes. Alan lost track of how many times the other man had managed to literally pull him out of his spiralling thoughts.

 “Come with me,” Ilmo says without further explanation. Alan gives him a dumbfounded look.

“You may not like it initially, but trust me. It will be worth it,” Ilmo gives him a soft smile. A smile he used to recognize on Alice back in the day. He didn’t deserve her. And now, he doesn’t deserve this guy. The man whose brother was dead because of him. Scratch or not, it was still Alan’s body who had had the blood on his hands.

--

Maybe it’s a dangerously stupid idea, but Ilmo had decided to bring Alan to the Watery Lighthouse in the middle of the night. Many nights, it’s clouded. Not today. Ilmo isn’t superstitious or anything, but something just feels right about tonight. Even in this twist-up world, he finds some beauty. And he wants to share that with the writer. They travel by motorcycle. Ilmo never had the opportunity to let somebody sit in the back. Except for Jaakko when his bike needed a repair on the brakes. Clearly, this is different. The feeling of a set of arms wrapped around his waist feels pretty good. Even if it they were from another man. If there had to be any sense of guilt, it would be the fact that it was Alan fucking Wake. But then again, this is Alan, not Scratch. He hopes he won’t regret these choices. Losing Jaakko has been devastating, he’s still surprised he is able to get up every morning. If this slow roasting connection he’s been building with the writer also shatters, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself anymore. The wind blows away the inner turmoil and Ilmo just makes sure they get to the lighthouse safe and sound. He parks the motorcycle right next to the steps.

 “Come on, we shouldn’t linger here too much,” Ilmo urges as he opens the lighthouse. Inside, he immediately turns on the lantern and locks the door once Alan’s with him. They take a brief breather and he watches the writer inspect their surroundings. The man’s eyes fall onto the blueprint on the table.

 “The LIGHT RAY 3000,” he reads out loud. There’s a frown first, a slight chuckle next.

Ilmo crosses his arms quite proudly. “My idea to burn away the darkness some day. I just need the right generators to power this baby.” The blueprint isn’t fully from the table, so to speak.

 “Is this why you brought me here?” Alan wants to know. Ilmo shakes his head and gestures to head upstairs. He gets a spare lamp from the locker and with two lamps, he too goes upstairs until both men stand back outside in the lantern room.

 “What now?” Alan asks.

Ilmo gradually dims the lamps and then points to the sky. “Look at the sky. Simply look at it.”

--

Alan follows Ilmo’s gaze. A clear ink sky spreads out in front of them. The moon is full tonight. A giant, pale, silver orb, blissfully unaware of the earth’s secrets. Billions of stars are scattered across. Some greet the writer by winking at him. The star blanket is mirrored in the water below, making the celestial sphere seem infinite. The grim streets in the Dark Place had no stars. No breathing room, no moon. Alan didn’t know how much he missed the unpolluted nights and the natural lighting of the solar system. Never had he given the stars more thought other than that they simply existed. Now he wishes he could see them every night as clearly and brightly. His mouth is agape. His heart is calm, his breathing even. This isn’t a threatening darkness. This is how it’s supposed to be. He embraces it. Literally starstruck, Alan basks in the moonlight. When he looks to his left, he sees Ilmo’s facing the sky as well. He looks calm, yet fixed on the stars. The moon glistens in his beautiful eyes.

 “This is what I wanted to show you, Alan,” Ilmo declares without looking up.

“Thank you, Ilmo. It’s beautiful out here,” the writer quietly replies.

 “You know... I just realized, that if the sky is filled with clouds, the stars are still out there. They’re not going anywhere,” Ilmo adds.

Alan throws him a look. The statement is obvious, but it’s a comforting thought. He wonders if the Finnish-American says it to help Alan or himself. Maybe both. Without fear, Alan gazes into the darkness. As they continue stargazing, the other man’s presence becomes more tangible. Both men have their hands on the railing. Alan eyes his own hands as they creep closer to Ilmo’s. Close enough that they brush against them like a feather. Luckily, Ilmo doesn’t pull away. After more time passes, the writer feels Ilmo’s eyes on him, lingering but when he looks back to confront him, Ilmo suddenly coughs and turns away. With the limited lighting, he can still spot a blush on his face and the way he nervously fidgets with his fingers. Alan’s not sure where the thought or urge came from, but he would love to kiss him. Ilmo Koskela, who decided to plunge him into a different, kinder and more beautiful darkness. One that is brightened by the stars and the moon and Ilmo’s eyes. But Alan doesn’t give into his urges. Instead he says they should head back home.

 “We probably should,” Ilmo nods. He could’ve mentioned their duties to fix the story, but he doesn’t. And for that, Alan also wants to kiss him.

[the-firebird69]

He didn't take to the talk very well but he heard it and he said these Mexicans Max are gaining he said they're not dating they're ahead of everybody including foreigners who are ahead of you and he started screaming how do you know that so it comes out later you guys have a lot of crap because you don't use it right and it's not the right stuff and he says this wow that's bad so yeah you don't have class eight shifts and it went out there like for example there's been a tax for like 3 months with most Tommy Allen trying to get back here or sometime s*** with millions of shifts and they go away in a few seconds well literally the battles are like 15 minutes long and they're gone it's like a huge mystery to people and then you like we're going to do the nukes. So you know it just doesn't work that way I don't know why you can't get it he says this you can sneak away at a time when people can't see you and what we say is tunnels are all monitored he goes office side thing so we don't want to see you're talking here you throw away everybody that's your problem you want to use see it you want to use even put up to it by the empire and you're just a sloth and it doesn't change talking to him doesn't change it his kids the same way if not worse and they have all the stuff it was a total waste of time for him to have anything same with bja they don't think this stupid crap about me it's just not do that so anyways let's play with your bikes say that I'm nothing and have a nice time before you die I don't care that's mostly trumps and I guess you're a child you can go screw you're terrible rebels focusing on me for everything is an idiot thing to do

So they just kind of thing when they move out or something happens to them and they're losers but this is the truth they're screw UPS and their losers and they're hoping for like a loose nuke to get loose because their own people aren't watching them which is ridiculous the max are playing the watchdog what is wrong with you guys ask him something that's true there are people are not stopping it it's Max they want a war to erupts between foreigners and us so that's what the motif is and that's them and yes sir kind of doing that and just kind of doing that too it's for some stupid s*** AI that doesn't work except for Dave Jesus Christ it's got a huge war machine and you guys are babies toddlers asking for handouts it's just like Dave to take advantage of a week homo. So they're starting to think about you they haven't everybody fight they're taking over ships they're kind of up there but they're not the sort of understanding something that Dave didn't like him because he's like him he said well he had disagreements with his kids and his kids were pretty Sharp but we know some of them beat him up a little and he had to put up with it so he didn't know what to do he came up with his robot stuff who sings the robot took his life in 97 and almost killed some of you it makes sense it's like let me leave the planet as like a partially burned head that makes sense in other words something happened to those in beds where they go now back to that s*** that's the other one

Thor Freya

Olympus

[zerodaryls]

adhd culture is watching a time travel show and pausing every two minutes to be like “wait did that really happen” and then going down a wikipedia rabbithole and thus taking three hours to watch one single goddamn episode

[okay-j-hannah]

Excuses

The Hobbit : Prompt

Kili x Reader

Word Count: 2024

Warnings: just that this gif literally KILLS me 

Request: “Hii can i request a kili x reader prompt with 129. “Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?” “Not until four”? Both crushing on each other and teasing each other and it ends with kili asking her out? Ignore this if you don't like it, have a wonderful day 🌸🌸” Anon

A/N: Kili is always finding reasons to be around you - perhaps one day he’ll do something about it 

The cavern was stifling as innumerable fires roared. The rock of the walls was stained black with soot as coal and ash escaped the chimneys. Tunnels were dug upwards to the surface to relieve the smoke, but it was somehow still hazy within.

She was stoking her own furnace, prodding the coals turning white hot with the heat. Her hands were smeared with grease and coal dust, cracked from the dry smoke of the air. Her face was similarly stained, freckled with the salt of the earth.

Her hair was tied back in a thick braid, but it still frizzled with humidity and static. She had to blow a few wavy strands from her line of vision. She extracted a pair of iron pincers from her leather apron, moving into the fire to grab a cannister of molten lead.

It burned fire red and the contents redder still. She carefully turned to her station where a mold lay waiting.

She was just pouring the steaming metal when an interruption graced her concentration.

“Hello, (Y/N)!”

She jumped, spilling the lead on her tools. It rapidly cooled before she could do much about it.

“Agh!” she cried, thrusting her pincers to the side, “Kili!”

The princely dwarf stood before her, a sheepish grimace on his face, but the light of his eyes was mischievous.

“Thought I’d drop by and…”

“And destroy my project!” she yelled, “You know it has to be perfect if I have any hope of being promoted in my apprenticeship. Now I’ll have to make another order to the mines, which they’ll take out of my pay, which will…”

Kili went to grasp her shoulders, “Hey – hey, there’s no need to overwork yourself. You have steam coming out of your ears as it is.”

She shoved his hands away, “Why do you feel the need to interrupt my work at the most inconvenient times?”

“I’m actually here on an errand.”

She scoffed, tossing her mold into a rubbish pile. “Since when do you run errands?”

“Since I lost a bet to Fili. I was sent to fetch his newly crafted swords. It’s a shame I plan on losing one of them on my way back to the courtroom.”

(Y/N) went to wipe her hands on an already dirtied cloth, “Then you’ve got the wrong blacksmith. I don’t handle royal weaponry.”

“I know,” Kili said, “I just… I just thought I’d drop by and visit.”

“Unfortunately, you are most unwelcome,” she grumbled, bending her knees in a bow, “My prince.”

Kili gazed at her in silence, his fists tightening at his sides. “Do you need help with that?” He pointed towards the rubbish pile and splashes of cooled lead.

(Y/N) snorted, “I wouldn’t put you anywhere near these fires. You’ll singe your beard off.” She gestured to the new growth adorning his chin, “I see you’re trying to grow it out.”

“Yes, well – I think dwarven beards are rather impressive, don’t you? I’d like it long enough to braid a few…”

“Oh, but then you’d have to give up archery.”

Kili stopped short, “You think?”

She shrugged, pumping air into her furnace, the flames crackling and blazing. Her face was shiny with sweat.

“Scruff is better than full beards anyway,” she muttered, straining as she lugged fresh coal into the hearth.

Kili was watching her arms as she moved, “Why is that?” He was pulling on the ends of his scraggly beard.

Her voice was a whisper he could barely hear above the fires, “I like them more.”

His hand ran over his chin as he hummed, “Well, this has been a complete waste of time.” He nudged her iron pincers until they fell from the workstation, “Whoops. Sorry – I’ll see you later when I wish for the company of commoners.”

She grabbed a lump of coal from her bag and chucked it at the back of his head. He merely turned enough to flash her a knowing grin.

And she returned one.

It wasn’t many days after that Kili began wandering the blacksmith mines again. He had developed a talent for evading his royal duties, though they weren’t nearly the workload that his brother had.

Still, he’d rather pester a certain girl than learn battle stratagem and crop stores.

He found her at a grinding stone, sharpening a few throwing knives. She didn’t see him until something was thrown in her lap.

She removed her hands from the stone, picking up a small bundle of wildflowers. “Are these… flowers? Did you pick me some flowers?”

Kili looked anywhere but her, “I saw them growing among the weeds. I thought them ugly, which made me think you’d like them.”

“Yes, you must know…” she stood and went to pat his chest condescendingly, “I do like ugly things. Why do you think I still talk to you?”

The smirk fell from her face as she eyed his chin.

Kili scrunched his brow at her brightened gaze, “What is it?”

“You shaved,” she said, her hand raising to hover over his cheek, “Your beards gone.”

He almost held his breath to wait and see if she’d actually hold his cheek, “Fili reminded me again and again that it was barely a beard to begin with.”

(Y/N) backed away, still holding her flowers, “Why would you shave it?” She was looking at him suspiciously.

He picked at his chin, bemused, “Like you said – I would have to give up archery. The beard would get in the way every time I strung my bow.”

The smile on her face told she thought otherwise. “You on another errand?” She turned back to her workstation, laying the flowers down.

Kili was rather delighted she didn’t immediately throw them into her furnace.

“I was bored.”

“Training yard unavailable?” She piled a handful of the sharpened throwing knives.

Kili folded his arms, tugging on the straps of his arm braces, “No, Fili is using the dart boards and targets today. I don’t have my knives, so I can’t join.”

(Y/N) stood still, hands holding two of the knives. Her eyes fell to the insignia blazoned on the handles. It was the royal seal.

Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath through her nose.

“How did you get these to me?”

Kili laughed, “I just slipped them into your box.��

She sighed, putting a hand to her brow, “Kili, you know I’m not supposed to handle royal weaponry.”

“I trust you.”

“This could have me removed from my apprenticeship.”

“Hence why I didn’t put in a work order – I just put them into your box.”

(Y/N) put her hands on the table, eyeing him now with disdain, “You just wanted an excuse to see me.”

He raised his eyebrows, scoffing, “I just wanted my knives sharpened.”

“And of the hundreds of experienced blacksmiths in these mines – you couldn’t find a single one to help you?”

Kili frowned, “I’ll pay you handsomely for the work.”

“I don’t want your money.”

His face went clear, looking at her now with a bit more sincerity. “Come on, you need a new furnace. One that works with steam – that way you don’t have to waste time pumping air and adding coal.”

“My furnace works just fine.”

He sucked in his lips, face becoming hard again, “Well, I’ll be taking them now then.” He went to the table and fisted the lot of them.

She sniffed, still huffy, “Fine.” She turned to stare at her furnace, getting angrier as she saw it needed more coal and air.

Feeling the need to yell about it, she turned around only to find Kili was gone. In place of the throwing knives was a drawstring pouch.

(Y/N) rubbed at her nose, hands on her hips in defiance. But curiosity fueled her more than anger, making her pick up the leather pouch and pull it open. Within were more gold coins than she could earn in months of work.

Kili tried his best to stay away after that. They were both too stubborn for their own good. Though it was never (Y/N) looking for Kili.

It was always Kili looking for (Y/N), and he couldn’t stay away for long. Fili kept catching him daydreaming and sulking.

This time he was led on a major chase throughout the kingdom. She was no where to be seen in the blacksmith mines, supposedly because she was on her way to deliver a sword.

He traveled floor after floor, until he came across the entrance of the throne room. He had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing right.

It looked like (Y/N)… but it didn’t look like (Y/N).

She was out of her leather apron and gloves, adorning a dwarven dress and corset. Her hair was silken and freshly woven in a few braids. Trinkets and gold bands were clasped in her hair and ears.

There wasn’t a speck of coal or a spot of grease on her. It was almost strange to see her so clean.

“(Y/N)?”

She was carrying a sword and sheath in her hands, almost dropping it when he startled her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughed, jogging over to her, “Since when do you leave the blacksmith?”

“Since my boss asks me to deliver all of his creations for him.” She rolled her eyes. He smiled. “I just stand there while they talk about how great he is.”

Kili couldn’t stop his grinning, “You look amazing.”

Her eyes got very wide, “Are you making fun of me?”

He immediately started panicking, “No! No, it’s just… you look… different.”

She gave him an almost pitying look. “Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?”

Kili scratched at the back of his head, “Not until four.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

He kicked his boot into the ground, “Well, first I was going to find you.”

“Already did that, congratulations.”

“Then I was going to make sure you weren’t so mad at me that you’d never speak to me again.”

(Y/N) turned her face to him to see his eyes wide and innocent. It took her by surprise, so much so that her voice came out in a whisper, “I’m always mad at you.”

The brown of his eyes was shining.

“But never mad enough to never talk to you again.”

Kili cracked a relieved smile, “Thank Mahal.”

She gripped the sword sheath tighter. “Now that you’ve done that. What were you going to do next?”

“I… I was going to do something about this.” He pointed his finger between the two of them.

“Something about the two of us?” she laughed.

“Something about the fact that I can’t stand being more than a day away from you. That I’ve run out of excuses to come see you. That I can’t stop thinking about you night and day. And wondering if I’m insane to think you could ever feel the same way about me.”

He found that he had gotten incredibly close to her now. He could see the anxiety rising in her.

She was still whispering when she replied, “What are you going to do about it?”

Kili tilted his head to the side, trailing his eyes all over her face. “Have dinner with me.”

“What?” she was breathless.

“Have dinner with me.” His lips quirked in a smirk, but there was very real fear in his eyes.

She had to look away before that gaze scorched her. She contemplated for a few moments. Perhaps too long because Kili felt the need to ramble on.

“We could also just go back to how things were before. You go back to being a blacksmith and I’ll just go back to being lovesick and shutting up about it before…”

“Kili – I would love to have dinner.”

He bit his tongue. “You would?”

“Tonight? How long is your four o’ clock stupid appointment?”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling, “I could make dinner on time.” He bit at the inside of his cheek, “You really do look fantastic.”

“I’ll keep the dress for tonight,” she laughed.

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua  @ocean-calls-me

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[brick-a-doodle-do]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! ITS HALLOWEEN! THAT MEANS ITS TIME FOR A HAUNTED AU BECAUSE WHY NOT? :D I've been working on this for literal MONTHS because procrastination and writers block is a biiitch

The Act of Making Noise (i)

Words: 2427

TW: Swearing, Slight panic

—–—–—

“Techno, why are they so tall?” Tommy asked, leaning against the wall beside the hole the two of them used as a doorway. Near him, still inside the tunnels they’d made, was his brother, grunting and mumbling things  to himself as he pushed a glass bottle through the last little bit of the corridor. 

Techno huffed, in amusement. “They’re humans, Tommy. They’re tall. What did you expect?”

Tommy shrugged. While he’d never encountered a human nearing anywhere his size, he still had enough experience with them to understand that, typically, they were much shorter than the two that chatted incoherently in the living quarters the home had to offer. The blond folded his arms. 

“Of course they’re humans, I’m not fucking stupid. They’re taller than they should be.” Tommy pondered on what to say for just a moment, eyes scanning all over the home for a useful comparison. “You see that window?” He pointed to it, despite knowing full-well that his brother’s attention was on everything but him. “Well, usually, they don’t go very far above that little…bar in the middle of it. They’re nearly to the top of the window, though. Something is wrong with them.”

Techno let out a sharp exhale as he let go of the breath he’d held while pushing the glass onto the counter. The pinket looked at him, a faux look of interest all over his face. “You.. you found an alien, Tommy.” 

Tommy folded his arms, “I'm just saying,”

His brother huffed again, turning his attention back to the bottle. “Are you helping me with this?” He motioned to the glass that easily tripled his size. Tommy stared it up and down, eyes flicking back-and-forth from the humans to the bottle.

 “Is that really a good idea?” Tommy questioned after a small moment. 

Techno’s face fell, eyes glaring into his own. He snickered, trying to stay quiet. To be fair, he still was on the fence about it. While it seemed like a good idea and was often their go-to in situations like this, there was something off about the humans. Not the height or their appearance, but something Tommy couldn’t quite place. They looked so calm in a place that humans typically found unsettling. Between the quiet, brief fits of laughter and the subtle smiles on their face, nothing there looked like it usually did. And he found that a bit discomforting, even if his brother doesn’t. 

He watched through the corner of his eye as Techno shrugged to himself and returned to the bottle, leaving Tommy’s unsaid response in the dust as he prepared to continue on the job independently. He shifted his weight to his feet and joined the pinket, allowing Techno to make room for him before he placed his hands on the glass and applied little pressure while the two of them took small steps forward. “Won’t they see this?” Tommy spoke up, quieter now. 

“Humans aren’t that observant.” 

“If I saw a glass bottle fucking wiggling around on the counter, I would notice it,” he tried to defend himself.

“Tommy, that's why you’re a borrower, not a human.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, once again fucking defeated. He murmured to himself, reassuring his pissed off mind that he was right and they’d be caught any minute. Don’t get him wrong, he did agree with Techno that humans were more than dumb when it came to using their senses, but again, that feeling in his chest told him that the humans the two of them are currently dealing with aren’t like the typical cocky teenagers they get. But, he knew there  wasn’t room for argument when it came to his brother, so he kept his mouth shut.

Eventually, after a few moments of nearly stumbling over his own feet, they reached the edge.

This was the hardest part. 

Not the final push, that was easy, but the run back to the walls. The bottle didn’t take a while to fall, if anything by the time they began to make their journey back to safety, the glass would’ve already shattered and caught the humans’ attention. Usually they were pretty good at hiding.  But those were the days where the trespassers were spread out around the house, and didn’t have the same relaxed bodies like the current ones did. He assumed it would be easy for Techno, seeing as he’s older than him and has much better stamina than him, but Tommy doesn’t know if he’ll make it without tripping. 

Soon, before Tommy could form a proper plan and discuss his worries with Techno, his hands were no longer touching the cold material. Tommy wasted no time in leaving. Panic flooded throughout him as he took the lead easily, focussing far too hard on keeping his footing steady as he ran along the old counter. He approached the hole in the wall too slowly for his liking, still only a little bit over half-way when the bottle shattered on the ground. Shit. He added another tone he didn’t know he had to his speed, and found himself nearly sliding into the hole. His feet slid on the dusty surface, but he still huffed in relief of now being hidden away in the shadows. He panted, now slowing his movements down while he stepped aside, away from the opening. He watched as Techno came in after him, however at a much more calm speed. “You’re faster than me, that’s an improvement.”

“You didn’t give me a fucking warning,” Tommy complained, now holding a hand to his chest as it heaved, harsh inhales and exhales traveling through his lungs.

“Are you still scared of humans, loser?”

“No,” Tommy scoffed.

Techno looked like he wanted to say something, but he shut up when he noticed the new arrival of the humans.

The tall duo still held that awful smile, just adding to his theory. Tommy watched the two of them crouch and go almost out of view. The only thing visible was the very top of their heads, where similarly-colored hair lay atop. He swallowed, attempting to try and listen in on the conversation. But, it was pretty damn hard to do that when his heart was pounding in his ears. 

Tommy frowned, standing. No use in watching them if he couldn’t hear them, it would just pile frustration onto him. So, he walked past Techno and set off down the dark tunnel only slightly luminated at the end, where their makeshift home was.

The place itself was much more modern and clean than the rest of the house, but it still was small. It was a given, since they decided to dedicate most of their storage to different types of empty bottles and other fragile objects. Tommy noticed as he entered the main body of their home that they were running low on their stock of said bottles. A few of them rested in the corner, but not enough to last for more than two parties, if that.

The blond huffed as he sat on his bed, the almost-stiff “mattress” under him failing to act like a real one, instead making the dramatic fall almost uncomfortable. He has to admit that, even if he enjoys the so-called “easy life of a borrower”, he still hates the fact that their living conditions are so shitty. It would be much easier to live a life they had now, but in a home occupied with a human. Then maybe his life wouldn’t be so miserable when he overthinks it. But, then again, if they lived with a human, then he wouldn’t be able to have that freedom the two of them crave. But, then again–

“They left,” Techno announced, somewhat of a smile on his face. Tommy returned the expression, though his was more genuine and far more visible. The blond shifted to the side so his brother could take a seat next to him.

“Are you sure? They didn’t look scared.”

“I watched them walk out the door. Unless they climb back in through the window upstairs, they’re gone, Tommy.”

“They were weird, Techno. I thought you were supposed to be ‘observant’ or some shit.” 

“Weird or not, they are gone.”

—

Gone. They were everything but gone. The evening came and went, and by the time Techno was finally stirring with the sun, Tommy had already been awake for two hours to watch the humans. They arrived at an oddly early hour, with mounds of equipment that Tommy couldn’t name. Something was wrong, and he was right about that. And he thought Techno was supposed to be the more put-together and “smart” one. That’s total bullshit. 

Tommy hadn’t moved. He just sat in the shadows, right in front of the opening, studying every little thing the duo did. One thing that made Tommy disappointed and doubtful was the sheer amount of stuff they had. Under normal circumstances, humans usually only had a little backpack, if that – usually they had nothing.

But even after they’d discarded the overly-packed backpacks and multiple other things Tommy didn’t recognize, they still had equipment all over themselves. The one thing Tommy could recognize was a flashlight, something he’d seen the humans have more than once. And if he’s not mistaken, they’ve also set up many cameras around the home, which just added to the uncomfortably tight feeling in his chest. While he watches, he wonders what Techno would say. Tommy had been right this entire fucking time and Techno just had to be the “correct” one and not even stop to think for a second that sometimes Tommy can be exceptionally bright despite being the younger and the more unorganized one in their lonely duo. 

Small footsteps broke his train of thought and he looked up and to the side, where he could just barely make out the outline of Techno, who’s long hair was frizzled and made his appearance a small bit frightening. “They’re back, Tech,” Tommy said aloud, sounding a mix of unimpressed and cocky. 

“What?” Techno asked, his pace quickening as his brother rushed to the small opening in the wall. Tommy watched with a gentle smirk as Techno’s expression shifted into something of shock, where his eyes widened and his mouth went agape, like he was rethinking everything he’s ever said. 

“See, you should listen to me. And, and, they’ve got fucking cameras everywhere. Look at the bags by the window, Techno! I don’t think they’re leaving anytime soon,”

The man looked defeated. And, Tommy didn't expect him to do this, but he nodded. “..you’re right,” Techno admitted, and the blond scoffed. “Of course I’m right! I told you from the beginning that–”

“Now is not the time to argue about–”

The two of them paused when eyes landed right by them. Logically they were safe within the shadows but they still stumbled back behind the walls. “What the fuck, could they see us, Techno?” Tommy huffed, struggling to find his brother in the dark. “No,” Techno said, but he sounded unsure of himself, like he was just saying it to make himself feel better. 

Tommy tried to calm himself, knowing that even if the two humans had seen them, they wouldn't jump straight to the conclusion of a borrower, they’d start smaller. A mouse or a rat would be just as plausible. 

“Can we go?” Tommy asks. 

“I think we have to. To get a better plan.”

Tommy nodded and stood up, straining his eyes so he could make sure Techno did the same. They set off down the hall again. 

—

Actually visiting a house was fairly common, but returning a second time just a day after was a bit less frequent than they’d like to admit. Everything in a supposedly ‘haunted’ house intrigued both Wilbur and Ranboo, especially when they both agreed that something may be there, but their more advanced  equipment didn't typically make an appearance unless they were certain that something was there. And, after the events with the bottle, multiple apparitions appearing in photos they took around the house, and the uneasy feeling around the entire home that the two of them both noticed, was definitely enough to make them suspicious. Not completely convinced, not yet, but pretty damn close. 

“Here, set that there, and– yeah,” Wilbur instructed, watching as Ranboo set up one of the many cameras they had. The shorter of the two was working on a motion sensing device, one of two that they had. A lot of people they came across said that they might be a bit over-equipped, but seeing as this was just for fun, they had no problem with going all out. Besides, more is usually better. 

“Ranboo?” Wilbur asked as he leaned over to get a new device from his bag. He pulled out random shit he packed while looking for something easy to set up. “Yep?” 

“You know the bottle, from yesterday?” He pulled another camera out, however this one detected skeleton-like objects that stood in front of it. This was one that rarely displayed anything other than real humans, which was a little disappointing to them. But, then again, he couldn't really say that some of the other stuff they got didn't make up for a possibly-faulty piece of equipment. 

“I'd be concerned if I didn’t remember it. I mean, my memory is bad but not that bad. Why do you ask?”

Wilbur laughed, “I don’t know, I was just wondering if we could put something up there. Maybe another bottle, or a can, or something for this thing to move.”

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Ranboo’s head go in the direction of the kitchen, which was just across the house. Wilbur followed his gaze, staring at it. “It's worth a try, but do we have a bottle?”

Wilbur shrugged. Just as he did, movement from under him caught his attention. He looked down at the camera, hope sparking. “Ranboo, Ranboo, come here,” Wilbur gestured excitedly for his friend to join his side. He heard Ranboo set something down then shuffle his way. “What the hell? It works?”

On the screen, small green bars and white dots built up to create a perfect figure, however nothing was actually there. “I–I guess–” Wilbur exhaled, eyes wide and alert. There was a high grin on his face as he continued to study the unexistent figure. It moved just barely, the skeleton-like outline’s arm moved like it was waving. The duo were at a comical loss of words as they were both amazed and humored at the action.