#missy symbols

[itgirlmaddie]

símbolos ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀fofos ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀da ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀maddie ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀siga ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀a ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ continha

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ para ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀mais ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀!

ᅟׅᅟ❀֢ᅟ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤㅤׅ ʾʿ ㅤׄㅤ 👼🏻 ㅤִ ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤᅟ⃘ᅟㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㆂ

᪈ ᪈ ࣪ 🥄 ׅ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𖹭ㅤ ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ︖﹖

#☆̫ᅟ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤׄㅤ ୃ ㅤִㅤ 🐩̫ㅤׄㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ˒ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ포포

͏͏ ͏ ͏ା ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ잣ㅤʿʾㅤ ⃞🥛ㅤִㅤㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ◌ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤㅤꉹㅤׅ

��֢ᅟ࣪ᅟ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤִㅤｮㅤׄ ㅤ🍽️̶ ㅤִㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ֢ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏사

[incorrectquotesconaisseur]

"Her Death Was Doubtful" - Ophelia's Missy's death

Ophelia, 1900, Friederich Theodor Heyser // Missy's death, Doctor Who season 10 "The Doctor Falls" // Ophelia, 1852, John Everett Millais

[maddymoreau]

My Thoughts on Poppy Playtime Chapter 3

Ollie is ADORABLE!!!! "No ouchies or lost body parts?" HE'S A BABY I NEED TO PROTECT!!!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!! (¬‿¬) I have ZERO evidence for this but my theory is he’s The Prototype.

I’m REALLY happy to see the phone Ollie calls the player on is identical to the one in Project: Playtime! It’s nice seeing stuff introduced in Project: Playtime finally appear in the main series.

( ⚆_⚆ ) ESPECIALLY DR. HARLEY SAWYER!!!! WOW THE TAPE FEATURING HIM TALKING TO THE PROTOTYPE WAS DARK!!!! I knew a man like Dr. Sawyer would be a sick and twisted individual since he created the Bigger Bodies Initiative.

Despite that I was NOT prepared to hear the joy in his voice to experiment on children. It was revolting.

This exchange:

Prototype: "You stick us. Beat us. Tear at flesh. Do you feel it?"

Dr. Sawyer: "There is a secret inside you, 1006. Valuable beyond all measure. I cut and prod and burn at it, and I get closer with each session . . . So speak, or don't. Fight, or give in. Regardless, I learn something new about you every day . . . (Laughs) It excites me!"

Prototype: "Thank you."

Dr. Sawyer: "You . . . thank me?"

Prototype: "Absolutely. I learn something new about you every day."

THAT FINAL LINE WHEN THE PROTOTYPE IS MIMICKING DR. SAWYER'S VOICE AHHHHHH!!!!

＿|￣|○ I WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO DR. SAWYER SO BADDDDD!!!!!! He wasn’t around for The Hour of Joy but I hope he suffered.

Leith Pierre: "Normally I'd have Dr. Sawyer do this but he's uhhh . . . out, let's say. So you got me until they find his replacement."

(o ´ _ ` )o The contrast between how Dr. Sawyer speaks to the experiments VS Leith Pierre the Head of Innovation at Playtime Co.

Both dehumanize the experiments in different ways.

Leith Pierre can’t even bother remembering Catnap's real name. He puts on this fake friendly facade. Referring to Catnap as his Pal and Buddy. It's so disingenuous.

Especially when he asks, "Heya Theo! How ya doin' bud?" Pierre could care less about how Catnap feels. It's only when Catnap responds, "The Prototype will save us." That gets Pierre to finally drops the corporate spiel. Admitting to what this place is. Catnap’s prison.

No wonder Catnap worshipped The Prototype after being save when this is what he’s told about his horrific situation.

Leith Pierre: "THIS is your life now. Get used to it."

I absolutely LOVED all the new features for the Grab Pack. The air jet looked SO FUN!!!! Watching people desperately shoot the flare gun against smiling critters in a cramped space WAS SO INTENSE!!! The smiling critter's small growls and whimpers made me sad.

(ʃƪ 〃’▽’〃)♡ The horror in this chapter was INCREDIBLE!!!! While I had fun playing Chapter 2 I remember feeling disappointed by the scares.

CHAPTER THREE HAD ME HORRIFIED!!!! EVERY JUMP SCARE HAD ME FLYING OUT MY CHAIR, THE ATMOSPHERE WAS AMAZING AND AHHHHH THE HOME ORPHANAGE SECTION!!!!!

It reminded me of PT ∑(; °_°) Especially with the radio informing us that in Elliot Ludwig's house it was discovered he HAD THE BODY OF A CHILD IN A DUFFLE BAG!!?!?!?!?!?!

ALSO THAT ONE RADIO'S REVERSE MESSAGE!!!

"8-8-1995 I find your presence intrusive. After all this time you return. You come in here and yet you kill and murder. You pilate and destroy. Your presence was demanded 10 years ago and yet you didn't show up . . . 8-8-1995 You were supposed to be here. Why weren't you here? You missed the event. You missed the meeting. You missed the party. You have no right to be here . . ."

AHHHHHH MOBGAMES KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING WITH THE LIGHTING IN THIS SCENE!!!!!

I thought I was going to see MY BOY 😭💔!!!!!!

Huggy Wuggy is completely fine.

Kissy Missy was so sad and adorable in this chapter. Seeing her stare at the picture and hug herself BROKE MY HEART ( o̴̶̷᷄ _ o̴̶̷̥᷅ )!!! She deserves the world.

Catnap acting like a child and avoiding school 😭💔

Miss Delight was a minor spoiler I knew about since people used her face in their thumbnail. However I was NOT prepared for her to act like a Coil-Head!!!!

Theodore being described as antisocial and having a peculiar relationship with an imaginary friend _(:ì」∠)_.

That “imaginary” friend being The Prototype. Who guided Theodore to help them both escape. Only for Theodore to get electrocuted since he was just a child who didn't know how to safely use a Grabpack.

The Prototype throwing away their chance to escape to save Theodore by bringing him to the staff. Showing The Prototype does care in some way.

Only for Theodore to be later turned Catnap.

THEN the player electrocutes Catnap the SAME way Theodore originally received his injuries. The Prototype comes to “save” Theodore once again but this time by making Catnap a part of him AND CATNAP ACCEPTS SO WILLINGLY (˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ )!!!!

It felt like I was watching a religious experience.

I love Poppy Playtime but I do think they show too much in their trailers. Dog day is a great example but even then his scene was *chef kiss*

All the smiling critters crawling inside Dogday as he desperately screamed in agony and for us to run away left me speechless.

I liked the detail of Dogday calling us angel. I'm excited to see all the AUs people create where we save him.

ALSO THE HOUR OF JOY WAS A BLAST TO WATCH!!!!!

I know Poppy is right that it was just senseless slaughter. How all that death didn't fix or help anyone. Especially when it didn't matter if those killed were innocent or not.

However imagining these characters being painfully experimented on and stripped of their autonomy. Going though years of hell and finally reaching their breaking point. It's hard to not feel good for them getting to release that anger. Even if I know it's wrong.

ALSO I GOT TO SEE MY SECOND FAVORITE CHARACTER BOXY BOO YAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!

THERE WAS SOOOOO MUCH HUGGY WUGGY IMAGERY IN THIS CHAPTER AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I'M GOING TO OVER THINK IT!!!!!! I HAVE NO THEORIES I’M JUST POINTING DETAILS OUT!!!!!!

When hallucinating Huggy Wuggy's face is on the employee training video:

“Join the Innovationists, where the bounds of science are continuously pushed. Or join the Counselors of Playcare, whose diligence and care for our children will help shape a brighter future, just you see.”

“Now every one of you has your part in that future, so should you come back tomorrow feeling unhappy for where you are, or what you’ve done . . . worry not, for your supervisor is here and happy to listen! And . . . should you come back . . . years later . . . your conscience finally getting the better of you. May you descend into the dark and the dust, finding all that awaits you are incomprehensible horrors . . . each hungry for your return, each eager that they might find you. Perhaps they’d smile at you from a shadow, their smiling mouths full of teeth and meat and plastic, watching and waiting patiently for their turn at a warm welcome. Or perhaps they won’t allow you such a time to figure your place in the world you’d left. A world that’s theirs now. Welcome home.”

The video transforms into a manifestation of the player's guilt. Not only for their involvement for whatever they did while working at Playtime Co. but for being gone and returning after ten years.

This is also paired with the player's possible guilt for killing Huggy Wuggy and their fear of him.

The hallucination version being a more exaggerated version of the Chapter 1 Huggy Wuggy vent chase.

When Catnap causes the player to later hallucinate:

Poppy: “Do you even know what’s real?”

Poppy: “No you don’t.”

THEN AT THE END OF THE HALLUCINATION IT SHOWS US THE DAY OF JOY!!!! Which is very odd when you consider two things. We've been told multiple times we weren’t there and during this scene we didn't know what the Hour of Joy was.

So the player hallucinating being in front of Huggy Wuggy’s podium during The Hour of Joy with a large Prototype hand reaching for us IS ODD!!!

ALSO THE TAPE IT SHOWS THAT’S WHERE HUGGY WUGGY WAS DURING THE HOUR OF JOY!!!!!!!

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!?!?!?!

This is just speculation but perhaps the player's memories aren't as trustworthy as we think. After all we still aren't even sure who even sent us the letter or tape in Chapter 1.

"EVERYONE THINKS THE STAFF DISSAPEARED 10 YEARS AGO WE'RE STILL HERE FIND THE FLOWER"

It’s important to point out the characters from Chapter 2 made ZERO appearance during these hallucinations. Mommy Long Legs, PJ Pug-a-Pillar, Bunzo Bunny and the Wack-a-Wuggy.

Is the Huggy Wuggy imagery used because he’s who we encounter at the start of the game?

OR SOMETHING MORE AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

[noamuth]

Kinda surprised that Dal doesn't like, wear or have some sort of Symbol of Lolth on him, to be honest. Like, Her symbol. He's probably wishing he had one right now though hkljsfdg

missed opportunity on my part

[adonis-koo]

Sorry, I had to reread Chapter 17 and let it marinate.

SO WAIT WHEN MC BIT DI JIN AND TASTED HIM AND WENT FERAL DID THAT ACTIVATE HER DRYAD ROOTS????? LIKE, HER BLOODLINE REMEMBERED WHAT THEY USED TO DO BEFORE????? IN THE AGE OF CELESTIA????? BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, THEY USED TO DEVOUR PEOPLE AND SHIT?????

Hahaha I figured as much, that was a LOT for anyone to digest 🤣🤣

While I don’t think it was an actual physical activation of something, I do think it was something innate that happened, being put into a prone position and literally fighting to survive, especially with Di Jin’s rapey comment?? When he bent down it was more this innate instinct (which hey! this can def be interpreted as her dryad blood) that kicked in, and then once she realized this man is literally choking on his blood?

She kinda used him as a way to release a life times worth of anger, hence the ‘it wasn’t enough’ and even after stabbing him, ‘it still wasn’t enough’ and despite it getting bloodier and messier and he’s already dead, she just kept going.

The whole moment though was intentionally symbolic to Eunoia’s past though! Everything from ripping open his neck, to working up a frenzy and almost decapitating him after his death, it’s a very grotesque and raw moment, in a way it’s like history repeating itself.

[dragonbleps]

So my brother got me a sketchbook for last Christmas, and I just recently filled my last one.

Now I'm debating what should be the first drawing for this sketchbook.....

[frosteee-variation]

are there any details in the drafty shipshape fic u wrote that we missed 👁

(this is the fic being referenced!!)

OKAY ACTUALLY I GOT REALLY EXCITED WHEN I SAW YOU ASKED THIS AND I LOOKED AND I CAN’T RECALL??

I DON’T THINK SO????

arguably you could say the lil tidbit at the start is like. the. the part like

This was not their ship.

The deck rocked beneath their boots at a pace they were all-too-familiar with, the planks creaking with the same give that they knew they always had, the waves hitting the hull in arcs that they practically knew by heart; but this was not their ship.

^^^^^ this one

is because they’ve witnessed the same type of scene so many times and also because of the curse thing they quite literally know exactly what will happen every time but I feel that one’s more upfront about it???

I typically do it for longer ones dhfbfbg,,

but!!! if I add any in any others I will definitely probably talk about them!!

like I know in the Knight/Abacus thing I’m writing there’s a brief mention by The Knight of how the halls feel “empty” and how a sort of “hollow feeling” sort of follows them everywhere they go

and I 100% intended for that to be a minor implication that a) the hall of champions is a literal part of them in a weird sort of god/domain way and b) they are a Trojan Horse so that emptiness is very literal in that case

[dontbelasagne]

desperately need to do a presentation on why the Twelfth Doctors journey perfectly represents the transfem experience

their previous eleventh incarnation being suave and hypersexual (i know moffat is mostly to blame but!) is reminiscent of attempts to fit into heteronormative ideals of masculinity. whilst it is not completely insincere, there are obvious signs this does not fit you as a person, it is acted out of desperate need to being seen. as Vastra put it, eleven wore that face, and subsequently that form of masculinity, to be accepted. on becoming twelve, realising even an "idealised" masculinity does not inherently serve them, they retreated into themselves as a person for self-reflection and trying to understand why they feel so detached from who they are.

the "am i a good man" arc mirrors being closeted and having to present as something not inherently tied to your sense of self, but still wanting to be the best of your perceived gender as any failure could leave you spiralling into self-doubt about simply being like any other "man". you ignore your gender dysphoria/questioning by trying to claim a moralistic view of gendered expression. made even more clear by Twelve rejecting Clara's heroic view of them, establishing that even though they have made efforts to be a "good man", that is just a placeholder for their loss of identity.

Missy appearing as she does, who as a character serves as a parallel to The Doctor on what they could become, and her eventual arc in trying to become good is symbolic of the fear around transition regret that internalised transphobia can create when you are closeted. Missy never gives importance to their fem existence other than nonchalant jokes, rather showing a more free and expressive personality devoid of any frustration. this immediately dismisses the transphobic assumption that trans people are only focused on their gender. also, Missy representing trans femininity is inherently tied to chaos and upsetting the status quo, she is the embodiment of what society considers accepting your womanhood as someone previously labelled masculine. what many others, and The Doctor themselves, saw as a need for attention and senseless disruption is Missy not needing to serve a false version of who they are, that they can now focus on becoming whoever they want to be now without losing energy to performing a gender that society has imposed on you. Missy could never have made the decision to stand with The Doctor if she had not given importance to her own queerness.

it wasn't coincidence with meeting Bill, she was the perfect foil for The Doctor to finally let go of their anxious attachment to masculinity. i would even argue for the majority of s10, The Doctor is largely ambiguous in their gender identity and does not fit into any construction of masculinity or femininity. whilst they still present as something socially labelled as masculine, they do not internalise that gender expression. they are uncaring about and not needing the validity that comes with heteronormativity, and thus is free to finally accept the decision they have to make. as Bill says, it is so hard to let go of The Doctor, and that rings true for twelve themselves. but they begin to realise The Doctor can be anyone. yes, they are tired, it would be so easy to simply rest and not give value to who you can become. but choosing to let go of everything you once were to survive is better than oblivion. it is better to let go, to choose another lifetime where the only person that dies is your falsity, to finally get it right and choose kindness. for yourself and for those who you love. they regenerate, not just into another person, but into someone who (if only tv scripts...) can now move forward.

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟪: 𝖬𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖴𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖮𝗎𝗍

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5 || chap. 6 || chap. 7 || chap. 8 || chap. 9

‼️  DISCLAIMERS FOR THIS CHAPTER  ‼️ 

#MakeUpAndMakeOut, #MuscularGirlsCanGetIt, #MyAgendaIsAllAboutGirlsSpeficallyClarisse, #KissingGirlsMakesAllMyProblemsDisappear

Protective!Reader, Reassuring!Sympathetic!Reader x Flustered!Clarisse, Flirty!Reader x Flirty!Clarisse,

Some Cursing, Reader HATES her deadbeat father!!, Reader is a Poseidon HATER 💯, Reader and Percy being Chaotic Siblings Goals, Typical Daily Foreshadowing, Smart!Reader having the best intuition, Mentions of Having Short Term Memory, Reader & Clarisse make up, Undertones of Love Langauges; Physical Touch & Acts of Services, Our Fav Couple Bonding, Detailed Making Out Scene

Italics Alone are Reader’s Thoughts

Bold Italics are Other Various Character’s POV

word count: 6.4k+

tag list: @starless-nightz @starvviss @cherishmiya @random-girls-loves @coolgirl458 @kjisbae17 @s0r0ws @a-fucking-sappho @lvc-lv @watchesstuff @marve1stranger @theogirlovermattheogirl

author’s note: anyways, i hope you liked this chapter! please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter. sorry, but i couldn’t leave reader and clarisse mad at each other for too long….so i decided to drag it out until chapter 10 😊! isn’t that so fun, to prolong the lesbian angst even further?!

🌊 🐚 ✘ 🔥🗡️

CHAPTER 8, EPISODE 2

✧.* ࿐ CHAPTER 8 MIXTAPE ! ꩜ ·˚ ༘₊· ✿ ೀ ➳

001,  NOT MY PROBLEM . . . laila  (remix)

002, DRIVE BY . . . eric bellinger

003,  ADORN YOU . . . miguel

004, LOYALTY . . . kendrick lamar & rihanna

005, KISS ME MORE . . . doja cat & sza

006,  COMPANY . . . justin bieber

Upon discovering that you were forbidden children, you packed up out of the Hermes cabin and headed over to Poseidon’s cabin. His cabin was a far distance from the other cabins, rather out of importance or avoidance.

You opened the door, leading the inside of the cabin, noticing how dirty and abandoned the cabin looked, and frowned in disgust.

Great, not only are you and Percy totally alone in this cabin, but now you also have to clean it. Yay, you hate this cabin and that deadbeat asshole of a father already! At least, no one will accidentally step on you while you sleep, that’s an upgrade here!

Once again, you and Percy met up with Chiron and Dionysus in the front office.

“As forbidden children of the Sea God, you are singular amongst demigods, and your father’s only hope to prevent the outbreak of war.” Chiron explained, “For months now, Zeus and Poseidon have been locked in a dispute over the master bolt. The symbol of Zeus’s authority, and it has been stolen.”

“Okay, and…?! What the fuck that gotta do with us?”

Get straight to the point!

“Who stole it?” Your brother blinked, baffled by this new information.

“You did.” Dionysus answered.

“What?” Confused as always, Percy stated.

“What, no he didn’t!” You exclaimed, defending your brother.

“Well, missy, probably you stole it then,”

“Real classic with the blame game, Mr. D,” You scoffed, crossing your arms, “How can either of us steal something we didn’t even know existed until now? Hmm…make it make sense.”

“Zeus is looking for a thief, and sees two forbidden children claimed by his jealous brother…it doesn’t look good for you, kiddos.”

“…I…we didn’t do anything,”

“Of course, you didn’t, but your father needs your help.”

“Fuck my father, okay, he finally shows up out of what 16 whole years, and suddenly we’re supposed to do everything to get his attention?”

“Ms. Matthews,” Chiron exhaled, “I know you’re angry with your father but please let me finish.”

“My bad, Chiron, you can continue,”

“Real classic with the blame game, Mr. D,” You scoffed, crossing your arms, “How can either of us steal something we didn’t even know existed until now? Hmm…make it make sense.”

“Zeus is looking for a thief, and sees two forbidden children claimed by his jealous brother…it doesn’t look good for you, kiddos.”

“…I…we didn’t do anything,”

“Of course, you didn’t, but your father needs your help.”

“Fuck my father, okay, he finally shows up out of what 16 whole years, and suddenly we’re supposed to do everything to get his attention?”

“Ms. Matthews,” Chiron exhaled, “I know you’re angry with your father but please let me finish.”

“My bad, Chiron, you can continue,”

“Thank you, Y/N, and as I was saying, An ultimatum has been given to him by Zeus that if he doesn’t return the bolt by the summer solstice in one week….” He finished with a neutral face, “There will be war, that is your quest.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes widened.

“There will be war, Y/N.” Percy restates, leaning forward, tugging slightly on his ear, “Listen, that’s what your ears are created to do.”

“Thanks so much for the brief health science topic,” You gritted at your younger brother.

“Anytime, big sis,” He smiles widely.

The siblings turned back to Chiron, waiting for his next announcement.

“You two must leave immediately.” Chiron commanded.

Percy questioned, “Leave? Leave for where?”

“But we just got here!” You complained.

“I know that.”

“Why are you kicking us out then?”

“I’m not kicking you two out, you just have to fulfill your quest,”

“A quest, like…a real-life quest.” You skeptically inquired, sending them a dumbfounded look.

“Yes, a real-life quest,” Dionysus mocked you. “It can’t get any more simpler than that.”

“Didn’t know that I required a fucking echo, Mr. D.”

“Well with your big mouth, it is necessary,” Dionysus jabbed back.

You nodded, impressed by his final jab, allowing your little loss at that while Dionysus huffed his chest in boastfulness and smiled to himself.

“Zeus is king on Olympus and Poseidon has always resented it, but there is a third brother who has always deeply resented them both,”

“It’s Hades,” Percy confirmed.

“Yes,”

“Hold up,” You interrupted, “There’s more? How big is this goddamn family?”

“Bigger than you can imagine, missy,” Dionysus nods.

“The bolt is with Hades, in the underworld,”

“I know it sounds daunting.”

“Sounds daunting?! With all due respect Chiron it is daunting, probably even terrifying,” You frantically replied, “Hades might kill us when we reach his domain, did that thought ever cross your mind?”

“But…there is a silver lining in this gray mysterious cloud, Y/N,”

“And what’s that, Chiron?! The odds are looking so great right now!”

“You two won’t be alone, a quest is always undertaken by three, or in this case, six. Y/N chooses two people and Percy chooses two people as well,”

“Great. Good luck finding those guys, ‘cause it ain’t gonna be me, or my sister,” Percy shaked his head.

“Poseidon has claimed you two. This is his will.”

“Sounds like Poseidon has some personal issues with his brother that he needs to fix himself, which are none of my business nor my concern.” You quipped.

“Exactly!” The blonde boy agreed with your statement, “Poseidon has ignored us our entire life.”

“You are his children, his beloved son, and his fearless daughter.” Dionysus makes this clear.

“We are Sally Jackson’s and Jessica Matthew’s children.”

“Who is Sally and Jessica?”

You stared at him, clearing your throat, focusing on your upcoming words, “They’re the ones who cared enough to call herself our moms. They’re the ones who got themselves killed so that me and Percy could be safe here.”

“The fate of the world hangs in the balance!” Dionysus was getting impatient and louder.

“Why is the world’s fate left up to children, then? Shouldn’t the adults handle that?”

“You two will accept this quest!” He yells, his anger getting the best of him.

“No, we won’t!” Percy shouts back at the man.

“Last time I checked, these are grown men, millions of years old, and they’re squabbling over a bolt like two spoiled annoying kids. It’s time they act their age, it’s getting too ridiculous now. So if it means me going on this quest I’d be beyond happy to put them in their places.” You cleared your throat, “So forgive me and my brother if we don’t wanna go on this suicide mission, considering we’re still coping with our own grief.”

“Hey everybody,” A familiar voice chirps up, interrupting the impending screaming match.

It was Grover, awkwardly walking closer, diffusing the heated conversation with a crooked smile.

“Grover now is not the time,” Chiron chastised lightly, looking at the satyr.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have news.”

“Grover…” Chiron trailed off, disapproval laced in his tone.

“Sally Jackson is alive.” He claims, determined and filled with hope.

“What?”

Oh, this is great! If your mother, Sally is alive then that must mean your mom, Jessica is alive too. You should ask Grover just to be sure and don’t get your hopes up for nothing.

“It looked like she died, but it only looked that way.”

“Grover…” This time, Dionysus is steady with a warning tone.

“Your mother was stolen by Hades, which means she’s with him now, in the underworld. That’s where they want you to go too, isn’t it?”

You and Percy drifted your attention back to the two adults, who looked annoyed at Grover’s sudden assumption. Regardless of that, they knew it was the truth, and withholding that vital information wasn’t a good idea on their behalf.

“Do you know if my mom’s alive too, Grover?” You beamingly asked, clasping your hands together in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m having a strong feeling she’s not.”

“Oh…” You looked dejected, feeling your heart clenching in sadness once again, “Well…okay.”

You really hoped she was still alive. At least, one of your moms is still alive, right, that’s something to be grateful for.

“If you can find her there…I think you two can bring her back.”

That statement slowly dawned on the two siblings as you pondered on a final decision. It was certainly a no-brainer that you’d do anything to save your mother, Sally from the clutches of Hades’ and his underworld, almost risking your lives too.

You breathed out, determination now replacing your anguish as you looked at the two adults, “When do we leave?”

After that dreadful conversation, Chiron allowed you and Percy to leave, giving you time to process the entire situation. Later that same day, it was evening and dinner was soon approaching.

Sticking to the same routine, you and Adrianna had joined Percy, Chris, and Luke at a table, all of you eating in contentment.

For some odd reason, you couldn’t direct your eyes away from the Ares table, noticing the absence of a person.

“Hey, where’s Clarisse?” You asked Adrianna, eyes trained at the empty seat where the curly-haired girl supposedly sits.

Your best friend shrugged her shoulders, not having a care in the world as she continued to feast on her dinner.

“Don’t know and don’t care,” She groans, munching on her food, “I’m not La Rue’s keeper, her pesky siblings already do that. Besides why do you care, did you forget she completely humiliated you yesterday?”

“Nobody’s seen her since Capture The Flag,” Chris informed you.

“Best not to bother her, especially after the argument,” Luke advised.

“Yeah, an argument which Clarisse initiated! I was defending myself and Percy whereas she brought up my dead parents!”

“Well, you disrespected her dad,” Adrianna recalls.

“Who’s a god, who’s immortal…” You narrowed your eyes, “She also made it seem like my moms being human was the main cause of their demise. Who fucking does that?”

“Despite all of that, you two were both in the wrong. Although I hate to admit it, Clarisse looked really hurt during the argument, probably because you were demolishing her reputation and her so-called feelings.” Your blonde best friend states.

“Does that make me a bad person?” You covered your face with your hands, groaning as Adrianna patted your back.

Percy looked at you. “No, you can try to apologize. That’s always better than nothing!”

“Wow, you’re rational, for the first time in your life.”

“Haha! You’re hilarious!” Percy sends you a half-lipped smile, “This coming from the same girl who gave away her first kiss for a game distraction,”

“Doesn’t matter anyway, we still won!”

“No thanks to you,”

“Or you!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes, I do!”

“Calm down, you guys.”

“I’m calm!”

“Never been more calmer,”

“Moving on…” Luke trails off, staring at you, “So what are you gonna do about the whole Clarisse fiasco?”

“You can shove this whole pie in her face.” Percy’s smile widened, handing you an entire plate of pumpkin pie.

“That’s just a waste of good pie,” Chris comments.

“No thanks, but save me a piece,”

“Yeah, if you’re lucky,” He murmurs, resting the pie on the table down in front of him.

“I wonder if she’s eaten yet,” You murmured to yourself.

“You’re worrying about her even though she disrespected your moms’ deaths just like that?!” She scoffed, gulping down some of her drink, “Could not be me,”

“Whatever, Adri, it’s not like I forgive her already.”

“Good, make her beg for it,” She listed off, “Make her chase you around for a bit. By the time you actually forgive her, she’ll be absolutely desperate for you and you’d be unbothered.”

“That was my intention all along,” You grinned at her as she nodded at your statement, continuing her dinner. “Wait, do just wanna see Clarisse at her lowest?”

“This is why we’re best friends.” She smirks, drinking some of her juice.

“You know me so well,”

“Evil masterminds, the both of you,” Percy chuckled.

“What do you think of the plan, little dude? Too extreme for our dear Clarisse?”

“No, no, in fact, I think you should amplify it, like 10x times more,”

“You two are bad influences,”

“Doesn’t matter anyways, you’re still gonna do it regardless,”

“That I am,”

Very quickly, you consumed the rest of your food, discarding the dirty dishes on the rack, and bidding your friends goodnight.

Without any explanation, you stood up from the table, venturing towards the loud boastful Ares table. You recognized the familiar blonde buff girl, who helped terrorize your brother earlier today and considered she might be of help. Tapping on the girl’s shoulder’s lightly, you smiled as she turned around to face you.

“What do you want?!” She scowled at you.

“What’s Clarisse’s favorite dinner dish?” You blankly asked with a neutral face.

“Excuse me?!”

“I don’t like repeating myself,” You scoffed, “You will tell me what’s her favorite dinner dish and you’ll do so with either a goddamn smile or a frown, I don’t fucking care! I’m not leaving this table until I get it, I’m known to be very persuasive,”

Long story short, you managed to get the information you needed from Clarisse’s sister and prepared a plate for her.

Deciding to bring dessert as well, you skipped off to your regular table, grabbing the pumpkin pie off the table.

“Hey, I was eating that!” Your brother incredulously yelled, holding his plastic fork in midair.

“Not anymore you’re not!” You kissed his forehead, “Thanks for the desert,”

“Sleep with one eye open tonight,” He warned, handing you two clean packaged forks.

“Sure, I’ll try,” You rolled your eyes, appreciating his consideration for giving you two forks, and began to skip off in the direction of the cabins.

Soon enough, you headed off to the Ares cabin, humming along to a random melody with your hands full.

That was easy! If only people were so cooperative then there would be world peace. Oh well, one problem at a time!

Standing right outside of the Ares cabin, you gulped down your anxiety and knocked on the door a few times. When there was silence on return, you rolled your eyes at that.

Hesitantly, you turned the doorknob slowly and stepped inside, cautious of your surroundings as the loud creaking of the door exposed you.

“Room service,” You awkwardly knocked on the side of the door, slightly startling the La Rue girl out of her silent trance.

“Not in the mood for conversation, Matthews,” She snarls, avoiding eye contact with you.

You stumbled further inside of the cabin, closing the door, and spotting Clarisse on her bed with her back turned to you.

“Really?? We’re on a first-name basis after you stuck your tongue down my throat?”

“…I was strategizing a game plan, sorry if you actually felt something.”

Wow, okay, yikes. She didn’t have use to use that harsh tone with you.

“And look at which team won now,” You snarked back, still feeling a little hostile to your prior argument.

“Shut up,” She seethes, clenching the top half of the spear in her hand.

Releasing a tired sigh, knowing your judgment got ahold of your speech. You just wanted to talk to her without any complications. “Look I didn’t come here to argue with you,”

“So why are you here then?” She retorted with a demanding tone that held some annoyance to it, “Come to gloat even further in my face about your team winning Capture the Flag,”

“No, I came to apologize for my behavior earlier,”

“Bullshit,”

“If I was actually bullshitting you, it’ll be painfully clear.” You mentioned, nervously biting down on your lower lip, “I’m trying to be the bigger person here, but you’re not making it very easy.”

Clarisse was quiet, allowing her thoughts to run freely, keeping her outburst of emotions at bay. She thought to herself of your consideration of your genuine words.

You felt sympathetic towards her, willing to apologize for your wrongdoings and even prepared her favorite dinner dish. Not many people would do that for her, nor would she accept it without any hesitation either. Yet, your presence made her hesitate, considering if she was losing her aggressive nature.

She faced you, “Do you always bite your lip?” She pointed out, glancing at your chapped lips.

To be honest, that question caught you off guard, hoping you'd receive a reply from your earlier statement. For some reason, she seemed to be dodging that particular statement, but whatever got her talking to you again was fine.

“Habit of mines,”

“Oh, okay…You should buy a chapstick then,” She nodded, trying to change the conversation once the awkwardness settled in the atmosphere. Her eyes landed on the plate in your hand, “Why’d you bring that plate of dinner?”

“Your siblings demand that I bring it to you,” You handed her the plate, ignoring the awkward exchange. “Besides I also got dessert, hope you like pumpkin pie,” You showed her the pie plate.

“Yeah right,” She snorts with an eye roll, clearly unconvinced, glancing at the dessert plate before resuming her attention on her broken spear, “Because if my siblings did that, you could have refused and carried on with your business. You don’t give a shit about me,”

“But I didn’t, and technically it was more like me demanding they tell me what was your favorite food.” You huffed, irritated that she didn’t accept the plate, “And no, it’s kinda sad that you think that I don’t give a shit about you when I do. Believe it or not, I do care about your well-being, risse,”

“Oh, really…” Clarisse’s amusement is soon replaced with a hushed whisper, keeping her eyes focused on the plate, “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Eat it while it’s still hot,” You suggested, smiling and beckoning her towards the prepared plate.

Going off your kind instructions, Clarisse gently discarded her broken spear on her bedside table. She settled herself beside you, sitting on the floor and the mattress was her back support. Grabbing the plate out of your hand, place it on her lap, and unwrap her utensils. After she uncovered her food wrap that was carefully wrapped, she remembered your presence looming over her.

Pausing her movements entirely, she slowly turned to look at you.

“Why are you still standing?”

“Because I want you to eat.”

“Thanks, captain obvious, but at least sit on the bed,” She negotiated with a soft smile, patting a space on her bed.

“No thanks, I’m gonna leave. Do you want half of this pie?”

“What? Why? You don’t have to.” Clarisse protested, an instant frown tugging at her lips, “Please, stay, I want to talk things out.”

“Nah, that’s too easy,”

“What’s too easy?”

“You should put more effort into wanting me to stay,”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?”

“Now that you mention it, yes I do,”

“Sorry, pretty girl, I’m not doing that,”

“Worth a shot,”

“But, please stay, I genuinely want to discuss with you properly,”

Eventually, you gave into her begging, loving how hopeless she sounded, sitting down beside her. Waiting for her to eat but she doesn’t, instead, she rests her dinner plate on her bedside table and continues to hover over her broken spear.

“Clarisse…” Worry overtook your features at her reluctance to consume her food.

Was she not hungry? Perhaps, she doesn’t like eating in front of other people. Okay, that’s bullshit, you’ve seen her eat in public multiple times, so that wasn’t the issue. Did she want you to leave? There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but was afraid of being rejected.

She hummed in response, mindlessly acknowledging your presence.

Oh fuck it, you only live once and you’d rather live your life not controlled by fear.

“Are you not hungry right now?” You frowned, placing a hand on the upper arm, unintentionally pressing against her muscles. Fighting back the wicked smirk that tugged at your lips, you let your hand linger there for a while, “I brought this to you because it’s not good to skip out on meals.”

At first, Clarisse kept quiet, accepting your touch as you tried to comfort her.

Growing impatient and worried by her lack of speech, you gently gripped her upper arm, tugging her in your direction. Yet, the La Rue girl resisted your actions against you, wanting to remain unseen.

Clarisse kept her head turned the other way, her voice suddenly sounding hoarse and tired…like she’d been crying. Ever since you walked into the cabin, Clarisse forcefully withheld her tears, not wanting to be deemed weak. That was why she kept her back facing you, to conceal her upcoming tears and saddened state. “Oh, hey, what did you say?”

Did she not hear what you said earlier? Was she zoning out and purposefully ignoring you? Although you couldn’t blame her, you talked horribly about her father, one who she so righteously claimed was there for her.

You decided to play along, “Nothing much,” You noticed her quiet sniffles and tense shoulders as she kept her back turned to you. Curiosity got a hold of you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you finally spun her around to look at you, realizing she was wiping away tears.

Maybe, urging a desperate Clarisse at the moment wasn’t a good idea. Forget about the personal vendetta right now, it seems as if Clarisse needs comfort and you were giving it to her.

“Hey, are you okay- are you crying?” You shuffled closer to her, “Who made you cry? Just say their name and it’ll be dealt with, all I need is the name,” Your hands softly made their way onto her face, turning her head to look at you. You smiled at her recognition, caressing her face slightly, adoring how she fawns from the simple touch.

No wonder why you had her so whipped! She’s in pure fascination by just your touch alone.

“I’m fine, and I wasn’t crying.” She defended herself, chuckling at your protective nature.

It was sweet to see you care for her.

“Oh really, then, why are tears all over your face? Your eyes are puffy and red, and your cheeks are soaked with tears,”

“Must be the room dust or my eyes are easily irritated,” She sniffled, slightly shuddering when your fingers brushed away the tears, “Anyways, this doesn’t matter, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s fine to admit that you were crying, Clarisse, I’m not going to hold it against you. No matter what you think of me, I’m not the type of girl to expose your business,”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,”

“That’s okay, it’s your feelings, it’s none of my business.” You reassured, tucking a stray curly hair behind her ear.

Although, you really wanted it to be. No, stop acting too fast Y/N! Don’t forget what she said to you.

“But that’s the problem,” She complained.

You frowned at her complaint. “What?”

Is she serious, like at all right now?

You were offering consolation while respecting her boundaries and still, she managed to find a problem.

Never have you been so utterly confused by just one person as much as Clarisse did to you. What does it take to get through this girl?

“Your energy; I want to talk to you. You’re an easily approachable person and I hate that…”

“Oh, well.” You rolled your eyes, dropping your hands and onto your lap, “I apologize for being such an easy approachable girl,”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, Matthews,” she exhales, closing her eyes and momentarily missing your soft touch which still lingered on her cheeks. The Ares girl stammered on her upcoming words, silently cursing in her head for being too straightforward. “You make it so, so fucking hard for me to think properly.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, catching you off guard as a devious smile appeared.

Oh, you made it hard to think properly?! Now it was only suitable to flirt with her.

“That is really flattering, Clarisse,” You smirked. “So, I must be on your mind a lot these days,”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Matthews.” She grabbed an extra fork, dug into the pumpkin pie, and joined you.

“Your mind was in there, long before mine,” You countered, piecing away a mouthful of pie, “I should be telling you that.”

“Stop getting off track,”

“I’d rather be off track with you,” You leaned in closer.

“You’re such a damn flirt, Matthews,” she chuckles, ignoring the butterflies swarming around her stomach.

“And you love it,” You taunted, “Almost much as you love kissing me,”

“I never said that,”

“You didn’t need to,”

“Why not?”

“Because I can see it in your eyes, you know you wanna kiss me,”

Making immediate eye contact, she flushed under her piercing gaze and her smile never faltered. Smoothly you placed your finger underneath her chin, Clarisse swooning just by your simple touch as you lifted her face to meet your eyes.

“And what will you do if I want to kiss you?”

“Maybe I’ll accept it,” You teased, bringing her in closer to you.

“Don’t start something you know you can’t finish,” She mutters, eyes glancing at both your lips and eyes.

“Are you calling me a pussy, La Rue?” A teasing smirk forms on your face.

“No, I’m not, but to quote you ‘you are what you eat,’” She reaffirmed in a low tone.

“I adore hearing you quote me, makes me feel more superior,” You murmured, your lips hovering over hers, barely inches away from touching.

“But now you need to eat,” You spoke, pulling away from her as if nothing intensely happened just now.

“Eat?! You want me to eat when you were that close to me, I can’t possibly focus on anything else other than you.” She exclaimed, still processing your near kiss.

The idea of her eating food was long gone and what she truly wanted to eat wasn’t technically edible for her.

“Yet you’re the one telling me to get my mind out of the gutter,” You huffed out, snatching the pumpkin pie from her hand, “Hypocritical much,”

“Call me whatever you want, pretty girl, but I crave to taste your lips again,”

“Don’t you have a better reconciliation of today?”

“No, I don’t. In fact, I can’t remember anything from the past hours.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,”

“Oh, really, risse?”

“Yes, really, pretty girl,”

“What happened to your precious spear?”

“It broke,”

“Exactly, who broke it?”

She sharply answered, “Your menace of a brother,” She discovered you caught her in a lie, and sheepishly stared at you.

“Nice try, I never believed you from the start,”

You stared at the untouched plate of food, and anxiously scanned Clarisse’s face, trying to decipher any negative expression.

“You’re not gonna stop looking at me like that until I eat this pumpkin pie, do you?”

“Yep,”

She smiles, continuing to closed-mouth chew on the pumpkin pie, having already her dinner and now finishing off dessert.

“This feels weird to me.”

“What’s so weird?”

“I never used to care about any of the small things other people do for me. I don’t wanna sound like a sap, but it feels different with you, almost natural. I’m inclined to appreciate the acts of service you do for me, even if they’re as small as bringing me dinner. All my demigod life, I’ve been told by my father to only look out for myself and pay no mind to others. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I never really had anyone else to care for me, so thank you,”

“Well, now you do,”

“Tie up your hair so it won’t get in our pie,” You advise, holding her hair back, “Do you have a scrunchie?”

“Yeah, I do,” She gets up, walking over to her bedside drawer and rummages through it until she finds it.

She hands you the scrunchie, grabs her plate again, and continues to eat.

“Do you mind?” Although she still was considerate enough to ask, it was rather a declaration than a question.

“Of course not,” You grinned.

You put the black scrunchie around your wrist, pulling her hair back in a tight ponytail, switching it with the scrunchie, finalizing her ponytail.

Somehow, Clarisse was a fast eater and finished her food in a matter of seconds.

“Look…Clarisse,” You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact, “About what I said earlier today at Capture The Flag–“

“Forget about,” She interrupted, placing her hand on top of yours, “Seriously, I don’t give a fuck about our argument anymore.”

“You don’t?!” Puzzled as ever, you asked, needing to be certain.

“I don’t…after our argument, I calmed down and started to soak in your words….and I realized you were right…I seek too much validation from my father and I can’t fucking believe it took your brother breaking my precious spear to realize that.”

“Clarisse…I didn’t mean that, sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain and I know that’s no excuse but, I really am sorry for saying what I said. It was shitty for me to talk about your dad when I knew nothing about your relationship with him.”

“But you did,” She shakes her head, discarding the empty pie plate in a nearby mini trash can, “And surprisingly I’m okay with that…like ‘let’s get past this okay’ not ‘i’m gonna fight with you okay’,”

“You sure?” You squinted your eyes, tracing your fingers over her hand, “You’re not holding back on me or anything?”

“If I was, you would have known. I think you know me better than I know myself,”

“But we met less than a week ago,”

“Oh, I know, that’s the scary part,”

Clarisse looked down, fidgeting with her bracelet in her hand, contemplating how to proceed. Her final decision was quick as she nodded to herself, taking off the jewelry on her wrist.

“This is my mom’s bracelet, she gave it to me when I first arrived at this camp.”

You admired the bracelet as she dropped it in your hand. “It’s absolutely beautiful, Clarisse,”

“I know,”

“But why are you giving it to me?”

“I figure you needed it more than me,”

“How so?”

“Dumbass, look at the inside,” she instructed. As you did exactly what was expected, you brought the bracelet closer to your face and squinted your eyes to read the fine print.

“It says ‘never give up hope, even if things aren’t perfect’.” You recited, trying to understand the deeper meaning, “I appreciate the kind gift but how exactly is this…relating to me at all?”

“About having a chance to save your mother?”

“Oh…right, forgot about that,”

“Do you have short-term memory loss or something?”

“I think I just might,”

“Uhh, okay makes sense,”

“But, wait, how did you know about my mother, Sally?”

“You told me about her.” She stated.

“I did?”

“Not technically, but let’s ignore that. Point is, you have a possibility of rescuing your mother, and that’s awesome,”

“Sure, but how’d you know about my mother?”

“Don’t stress your pretty little head over the small things,” She let out a low whistle, shushing you, “What I said about your moms was totally uncalled for. Never should have disrespected their deaths, and used it against you in that way. Your moms dying as humans didn’t change the fact that you still horribly lost them.” She continued, clearing her throat, “No matter what I say, how many words I can describe to express what it felt for you in that moment, to witness and gain trauma alongside it. The bottom line is that I’m sorry for acting like an asshole and for my shitty words. None of my words were true, it can be stressful finding out so much devastating news in under short time and you’re managing pretty well, even more than most of these other campers. I’m just…really sorry.”

You plastered on a weak smile, “Out of sight, out of mind,”

“You don’t have to fake a smile,” She affirmed, “Not around me,”

“I’m not,”

“Yes you are; you’re doing it right now,”

“You’re getting quite observant today,”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better about it?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s getting pretty late and I’m tired. Just going to head to bed,”

“Wait,” She grabbed your wrist, stopping you from standing up.

“Can I walk with you? I’ll walk with you to your cabin so you don’t have to be alone,”

“Stop fucking with me, Clarisse,”

“Trust me, I’m not fucking with you,”

“Really? I thought Clarisse kept to herself, doesn’t bother herself with other people’s shit and feelings.” You rhetorically stated, “Who’s Clarisse and what have you done to her?”

“First of all, I’m still the same Clarisse, and there’s always room for improvement,”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I genuinely want to walk you to your cabin,”

“No ulterior motives; like sneak attack part 2 or any of the sort?”

“Purely genuine, I swear,”

“Okay, wash your hands and we can leave.”

“Yes ma’am,”

“Then, we’ll talk about how you broke our pinky promise.”

The two teenage girls left the Ares cabin and headed towards the Poseidon cabin, keeping each other company.

Finally, you two reached to the cabin’s porch and stood around there, not wanting your conversation to end so soon.

“Good night, Clarisse,”

“Good night, pretty girl,”

Taking in a short breath, you stepped forward to her, caressing her cheek, noticing her slight shudder at your soft touch. However, she leaned in, pressing her lips gently against yours, giving you a short chaste kiss.

Too stunned to react, you reciprocated the kiss as your eyes fluttered closed, melting into it. Eventually, the kiss became more ferocious as her hands moved downwards, pulling you by the waist closer.

Finding yourself melting over the passionate kiss, a small smile formed on Clarisse’s face, gaining the confidence to dominate the kiss. Just like that, her lips found yours and it was another competition between the two except it was more than friendly.

Pulling away from her lips, desperately needing a breather, but Clarisse refused that, briefly shaking her head. You felt Clarisse’s grip tightened, walking forward and pushing you by the hips until your back hit the doorframe, doing all that without breaking the kiss. She yearned for more, more of you, more of your lips, she just needed you with her right now at this moment, it was so obvious. Both of your lips were swollen but neither of you chose to acknowledge it, wanting more of the other in your presence.

With your lips moving one accord, your hands lost themselves in her hair, unloosing the scrunchie you tied up previously, and tugging your fingers across her curly hair.

Breaking away from the heated kiss, your breaths intermingled as you pressed your forehead together, staring at the other girl in contentment.

Guess that was one way to end the night off.

Your lips were swollen as you hazily stared at the Ares girl, your chest slowly heaving, attempting to ease your alternating heartbeat.

“I should really…go inside and get some sleep,”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,”

“Of course, it is,” You stammered out, playing with your braids. To save yourself from further embarrassment, you spin around, the seashell accessories in your braids clacking loudly. Facing your cabin door and quickly twisted the doorknob to enter as you heard a slight chuckle escape from Clarisse’s lips.

Normally, you would have recognized a new silver bracelet on your wrist right away so the dangling noise gave you away. It was only when the noise fully captivated you, looking down at your wrist to notice that Clarisse’s bracelet was still on.

Shit, you almost forgot! This was Clarisse’s bracelet, and you can’t believe she forgot to ask for it back.

Internally groaning as you tiredly faced Clarisse, your fingers lingering over the bracelet, ready to take it off.

“Clarisse, your mother’s bracelet, I completely forgot,”

She halted your movements, resting her hand on top of yours again for the second time today.

“No, you can keep it for now,”

“But I can’t, it’s sentimental to you,” The La Rue girl removed her hand from yours.

“And it’ll be even more sentimental to me if you’re wearing it,”

“Is the Clarisse La Rue getting sappy? That’s certainly a must-see!”

“Don’t push it,” She lightly warns.

“Only because you said so…at least for tonight.” You bargained with a small grin, analyzing her silver bracelet, “If we’re exchanging bracelets temporarily, then I want you to wear this,”

You took off your mother’s bracelet, putting the piece of jewelry around Clarisse’s right wrist. “Now we both have a reason to look for the other, and we’re wearing a sentimental value of each other.”

“I love it,” She admired the gold bracelet, “I must say gold isn’t my color, but I’ll manage,”

“No one likes a complainer,” You pouted, “Good night, risse, for real this time,”

“Good night, pretty girl,” She bid you goodbye, watching as you entered your cabin and closed the door behind you.

If only all of your nights needed a passionate makeout with Clarisse underneath the shining stars, you’d be the happiest forbidden demigod alive.

Shit, you completely forget you were supposed to have Clarisse at your mercy. This also doesn’t mean you forgive her just yet, she’d have a lot more apologies coming your way.

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© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[everyframeapainting1991]

In the iconic “Sunken Place” shot from Get Out, Jordan Peele visualizes Chris’s psychological entrapment with chilling simplicity. As Chris falls backward into a black void, the screen shrinks, showing Missy in the small, distant frame—symbolizing how Chris’s agency is slipping away. The endless darkness that surrounds him amplifies the feeling of helplessness, trapping Chris in isolation where he can see but never act, voiceless against his captor. The claustrophobic emptiness of the void reflects both the character’s personal guilt and the larger racial subtext of systemic oppression, making this shot a visual metaphor for being silenced and powerless in the face of exploitation.

[dandelionjack]

if i won’t have lost the special interest by the time i’m back at uni and i’d have seen most of classic by then i want to write an academic paper on gender in doctor who. because there is SO MUCH to say about it. thinking about missy’s lampshading of the companion-as-gender in world enough and time. companion is a de facto gender, right? and the doctor is a gender. thirteen is not more feminine than ten or eleven, in fact, she’s emotionally distant and harsh in highly masculine-coded ways and the doctor will always find themselves taking on the masculine role re: the narrative, no matter what gender the actor that’s playing them is. of course amy pond as the ur-example of the companion without agency, treated by the story as a vessel and an object to pass between husband and doctor. then there’s subversion (ace, bill) and deconstruction (clara). martha’s character being simplified in the public consciousness as ten’s tragic rebound, ignoring her doctorification arc. doctorification itself as a transition of sorts. time lords’ gender-fluidity contrasted with their culture’s rigid social norms. cybermen and daleks turning themselves genderless as a marker of dystopian uniformity. the role of river song. rose noble and her magical mystery metacrisis transgenderism. charley sneaking onto the R101 dressed as a boy. ace dressing gwendoline in a man’s costume in ghost light as a symbol of evolution

i swear it could go on forever . i bet when i’ve watched the rest of classic the list of examples would be twice as long, the earlier you look

[bossbabykinnie]

Guy who sees parallels when there are none voice: guys. im seeing parallels

I've always wondered why they chose to have Missy tell Spider about this myth specifically, especially since I feel like it doesn't mirror (?) or symbolize their relationship too well. They aren't exactly tragic, and I can't see either of them filling out the Eurydice/Orpheus role.

I thought, then, maybe Malakai and Amerie? But it still doesn't fit too well, imo. It's more like neither of them can move on, not just one of them. So I expanded my horizons beyond just the sexual/romantic relationships in the show, and. I need you guys to hear me out here:

This myth is interpreted in many ways, but I see a lot of posts discussing the themes of love, grief/loss, and inability to move on... I don't know. This was probably not intentional at all. But I thought it could be a nice little detail (:

[fatehbaz]

Coral today is an icon of environmental crisis, its disappearance from the world’s oceans an emblem for the richness of forms and habitats either lost to us or at risk. Yet, as Michelle Currie Navakas shows in [...] Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America, our accounts today of coral as beauty, loss, and precarious future depend on an inherited language from the nineteenth century. [...] Navakas traces how coral became the material with which writers, poets, and artists debated community, labor, and polity in the United States.

The coral reef produced a compelling teleological vision of the nation: just as the minute coral “insect,” working invisibly under the waves, built immense structures that accumulated through efforts of countless others, living and dead, so the nation’s developing form depended on the countless workers whose individuality was almost impossible to detect. This identification of coral with human communities, Navakas shows, was not only revisited but also revised and challenged throughout the century. Coral had a global biography, a history as currency and ornament that linked it to the violence of slavery. It was also already a talisman - readymade for a modern symbol [...]. Not least, for nineteenth-century readers in the United States, it was also an artifact of knowledge and discovery, with coral fans and branches brought back from the Pacific and Indian Oceans to sit in American parlors and museums. [...]

---

[W]ith material culture analysis, [...] [there are] three common early American coral artifacts, familiar objects that made coral as a substance much more familiar to the nineteenth century than today: red coral beads for jewelry, the coral teething toy, and the natural history specimen. This chapter [...] [brings] together a fascinating range of representations of coral in nineteenth-century painting and sculptures.

With the material presence of coral firmly in place, Navakas returns us to its place in texts as metaphor for labor, with close readings of poetry and ephemeral literature up to the Civil War era. [...] [Navakas] includes an intriguing examination of the posthumous reputation of the eighteenth-century French naturalist Jean-André Peyssonnel who first claimed that coral should be classed as an animal (or “insect”), not plant. Navakas then [...] considers white reformers [...] and Black authors and activists, including James McCune Smith and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, and a singular Black charitable association in Cleveland, Ohio, at the end of the century, called the Coral Builders’ Society. [...]

---

[H]er attention to layered knowledge allows her to examine the subversions of coral imagery that arose [...]. Obviously, the mid-nineteenth-century poems that lauded coral as a metaphor for laboring men who raised solid structures for a collective future also sought to naturalize a system that kept some kinds of labor and some kinds of people firmly pressed beneath the surface. Coral’s biography, she notes, was “inseparable from colonial violence at almost every turn” (p. 7). Yet coral was also part of the material history of the Black Atlantic [...].

Thus, a children’s Christmas story, “The Story of a Coral Bracelet” (1861), written by a West Indian writer, Sophy Moody, described the coral trade in the structure of a slave narrative. [...] In addition, coral’s protean shapes and ambiguity - rock, plant, or animal? - gave Americans a model for the difficulty of defining essential qualities from surface appearance, a message that troubled biological essentialists [...]. Navakas thus repeatedly brings into view the racialized and gendered meanings of coral [...].

---

Some readers from the blue humanities will want more attention, for example, to [...] different oceans [...]: Navakas’s gaze is clearly eastward to the Atlantic and Mediterranean and (to a degree) to the Caribbean [...], even though much of the natural historical explorations, not to mention the missionary interest in coral islands, turns decidedly to the Pacific. [...] First, under my hat as a historian of science, I note [...] [that] [q]uestions about the structure of coral islands among naturalists for the rest of the century pitted supporters of Darwinian evolutionary theory against his opponents [...]. These disputes surely sustained the liveliness of coral - its teleology and its ambiguities - in popular American literature. [...]

My second desire, from the standpoint of Victorian studies, is for a more specific account of religious traditions and coral. While Navakas identifies many writers of coral poetry and fables, both British and American, as “evangelical,” she avoids detailed analysis of the theological context that would be relevant, such as the millennial fascination with chaos and reconstruction and the intense Anglo-American missionary interest in the Pacific. [...] [However] reasons for this move are quickly apparent. First, her focus on coral as an icon that enabled explicit discussion of labor and community means that she takes the more familiar arguments connecting natural history and Christianity in this period as a given. [...] Coral, she argues, is most significant as an object of/in translation, mediating across the Black Atlantic and between many particular cultures. These critical strategies are easy to understand and accept, and yet the word - the script, in her terms - that I kept waiting for her to take up was “monuments”: a favorite nineteenth-century description of coral.

Navakas does often refer to the awareness of coral “temporalities” - how coral served as metaphor for the bridges between past, present, and future. Yet the way that a coral reef was understood as a literal graveyard, in an age that made death practices and new forms of cemeteries so vital a part of social and civic bonds, seems to deserve a place in this study. These are a greedy reader’s questions, wanting more. As Navakas notes [...], the method [...] is to understand our present circumstances as framed by legacies from the past, legacies that are never smooth but point us to friction and complexity.

---

All text above by: Katharine Anderson. "Review of Navakas, Michele Currie, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America." H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. December 2023. Published at: [networks.h-net.org/group/reviews/20017692/anderson-navakas-coral-lives-literature-labor-and-making-america] [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[ranticore]

happy anniversary STBH!! i bought both books while on a week break and read them both in two days voraciously despite my phone failing to decipher the epub files (squinting at a 200x zoomed pdf is a painful way to read but it was so worth it). i am periodically rotating the characters round my mind like the hypothetical apple number 1. Cain especially has been placed in my little mental cabinet of curiosity that i drop by during quiet hours to think about. love that man. number one cain fan. chewing him like an interesting stick. i love every other character as well though theyre all so fascinating and v human

anyway all this ramble to say i love your works and im patiently waiting for the moth release. ur prose is so lovely and i love love love the way you interpret folklore and mythology and your art

question for the stbh gang: what actually are their daemons? i know felix has estibarith the swan but im so curious as to the rest...

omg noo i'm so sorry the epub didn't work! i know you already suffered through it but for anyone else with this issue, i have a recommendation for google books app (if using android) but even if that doesn't work, you can always contact me and we can make something more readable (like a pdf with big font or something) that fits

i'm so happy that cain resonates with people, that old man is a favourite of mine even if i did forget to change his name from the original placeholder (whoops). he's a lil fucked up now but his story is far from over

as for tha daemons..

Islin: i narrowed it down to two potentials?? That i kind of bounce between. I tend to lean more towards a polled bull than anything else - a same-sex daemon which would be the only one in the cast i think, which i tried to parallel in pern story with him being the only one who doesn't match the canon rules for rider sexuality & dragon colour. but regardless the daemon is called Tarannach and the overall symbolism is a massive powerful dominant animal who is nonetheless "de-fanged" in some way (polled cattle naturally lack horns!) and appears more peaceful as a result. Tarannach is wilful and domineering, disagrees with Islin frequently (before Islin has his spine-growing moments), and unapologetically takes up space. would also be a massive inconvenience in day to day life but that's kind of the point. Before settling as a bull, Tarannach went through phases of wanting to be smaller and smaller.

Bowman has a dog daemon. It just has to be that way, there's no getting around it. I joked around that she would be a poodle but actually I would lean more towards a collie instead, a herding type. Something that looks rough and ready but is actually surprisingly high maintenance. Her name is Nell/Nellie. Her personality is irreverent, never takes anything seriously. She turns into a feral animal during the full moon.

We know Estibariz is a swan but some more about her - she wanted to be a lioness, something big and fierce, and Félix insisted that she would probably end up a serpent or a fox, something with connotations of being a sneaky liar, and he felt that when she did settle, it would be an externalisation of some inner ugliness he never wanted anyone else to see. when she did settle she enjoyed a big I Told You So. When he was taken by Puck and spat out again, she returned as a form-shifting daemon again, and had gained the ability to separate from him and travel long distances. She never shapeshifted willingly though. The first person to touch Estibariz aside from Félix was Bowman. The second person was Helena.

Clarion is the only one whose daemon was actually, for real, a horse. His name was Drey and he was a dapple grey draft breed.

Senca is obviously a witch so also had a daemon who could travel far from her. He was a bird, I thought maybe a nightjar or collared dove. Never got that far in the au so didn't pick a name. We'll just call him Namiliyath

Léa's was a thorny devil

Jean's is a ferret and her name is Missy. It looks like it could potentially be an ermine, a symbol of nobility, but no. It's a common hunting animal, white with black eyes.

Erica's is a magpie

Pascal does not have a daemon. There's something there that looks very swanlike, but it speaks with his voice. In a human au, it's a golden eagle.

I don't think I made anything for other characters, again I never got that far writing it

[noamuth]

Guess who got a cheap disposable calligraphy pen to possibly do journals in >:3c

Idk how well it'll work, considering it's more than double the size of the felt-tip i've been using. we'll see!

also my phone camera once again auto-sharpening makes everything look simultaneously dingy and crunchy

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.