#now we have sage who has human appearance but she too works because she's not Human

[antirepurp]

I hope the knuckles show isn’t needed homework… and the human situation is the same for me /: I dislike in general when humans have too much of a presence(?) is my non-human series.

yeah like i don't mind movie spin-offs they can be fun but i prefer them as isolated character exploration experiences or just entirely isolated things for fun right, and im worried that since apparently at least someone working on the movies wants them to be the next marvel or some shit (idk i read a headline about it and heard it mentioned once or twice don't quote me on this at all) things will end up as this huge messy "cinematic universe" where nothing can or is allowed to exist in isolation, everything is canon and ties into each other, and if you want to understand anything you have to start from the beginning and Consume(TM). what if there will come a time when your knowledge of the games simply isn't enough to catch you up to speed anymore? the thought sickens me

and yeah humans. i understand they gotta have some because it's live-action and im not opposed to live-action by any means, and that the setting and sonic's backstory and all require more human presence, it's just that. you're making movies about furry games. the more humans there are the more they take away space from the furries i want to look at and see explored in greater detail. humans in the games are typically NPCs or antagonists with just a handful of exceptions and i'd prefer if things were kept that way. the found family thing is cute sure but it forces more and more humans to the foreground which is not really the point in sonic imo

i went off there a bit oops akdjhaasd but yeah i obviously agree

[nixielinghui]

Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human? Pointless, really.

Is that NIXIE LINGHUI? A SOPHOMORE originally from FUNAFUTI, TUVALU, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ENVIRONMENTAL ENGINEERING on a FINANCIAL SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE OPHELIA on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

Do the stars gaze back? Now that's a question.

STATISTICS;

BASIC INFORMATION;

full name: nixie linghui. nickname(s): nix. age: twenty-one. date of birth: september 30th, 2001. zodiac: libra. hometown: funafuti, tuvalu. current location: ogden, new hampshire. ethnicity: caucasian & chinese. nationality: polynesian. gender: demigirl. pronouns: she/they. orientation: panromantic & pansexual. religion: wicca. occupation: student & employee at c.ling. language(s) spoken: english, chinese, hawaiian, māori, tuvaluan, semi-fluent vietnamese.

FAMILY;

father: david linghui. marine engineer. born january 18th, 1965. mother: carley linghui. marine biologist. born november 21st, 1968. sibling(s): n/a. children: n/a. pet(s): n/a.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE;

face claim: havana rose liu. hair color: honey brown.  eye color: grey to green. height: 5'2''. weight: 110 lbs. tattoos: n/a. piercings: lobes on either side (multiple).

PERSONALITY;

character trope: the ophelia. additional tropes: the aquaphile, the barefoot loon, the barefoot sage, the beach bum, the dreamer, the effervescent, the halcyon, the manic pixie dream girl, the malingerer, the mysterious waif, the paracosmist, the peach, the traveler. character inspirations: argyle (stranger things), bea (mayday), delirium of the endless (the sandman), dolores madrigal (encanto), lottie matthews (yellowjackets), luna lovegood (harry potter), molly gunn (uptown girls), mr. magorium (mr. magorium's wonder emporium), sarah sanderson (hocus pocus), thomas jerome newton (the man who fell to earth), valerie (valerie and her week of wonders). positive traits: affectionate, extroverted, understanding. negative traits: carefree, indecisive, codependent. skills: forging relationships, mediation, amateur tea sommelier. smokes: no. drinks: yes. drugs: yes, natural substances only.

SCHOOLING;

attending; ogden college. major: enviormental engineering. minor: marine biology. sports: swimming & diving. extracurriculars: renewable energy and sustainability society, rock climbing team.

BACKGROUND;

TW: n/a. ● Nixie's parents met unexpectedly on a ship that her mother was traveling on and her father was working on. It was love at first sight and within four months they were married and Nixie's birth followed an additional seven months later. ● Due to her parents work, they never truly had a set home. Instead, she spent her childhood traveling on ships or boats and visiting exotic and beautiful locations, staying in everything from hostels to hotels and rented out rooms. ● Their education came mostly in the form of homeschooling and lessons taught both by their mother and the various women who helped raise and shape them throughout their childhood, most of their knowledge (and the things that piqued their interest) not coming from the things found in a textbook or classroom. ● It was throughout their travels that they became increasingly aware of the impact of global warming, particularly on the places that they loved to much, and in hopes to make a more impactful change going forward, they enrolled in Ogden. ● They definitely do care about their education and being able to help, but being as wild as they are, Nixie struggles with actually attending classes and staying on top of their assignments, something she too often has to be reminded about.

BIOGRAPHY;

TW: n/a. It had to have been fate that allowed their paths to cross, no coincidence that the ship she wasn’t have meant to have been on broke down while in his zone, that she’d wandered out of her room and into directly into him. It was love at first sight, two people destined for each other, a romance that others might try to simplify but the Linghui’s refuse to view it so plainly. It took a mere four months before they were tying the knot, a wedding some called shotgun soon after the fact, but the child growing inside of Carley was unbeknownst to them at the time, a welcome surprise when that beautiful baby arrived seven months later. To say that Nixie's upbringing was unorthodox would still be managing to down play it. She may have been born in Funafuti but it was never home, pulled to the seas before she was even a year old. In fact, home wasn't a word that they identified in the traditional sense — home was people, it was a feeling, no set place that ever been able to hold them. Nixie spent their time drifting; beaches and islands, boats and ships, oceans and villages that so few people got to experience. There was a plethora of time spent under the watchful eye of local women, incredible elders from varying backgrounds who’d lived and seen so much more than her, who shared their wisdom and stories and helped shape her. Of course, home schooling was mandatory, even with no singular home it was important she learn — and although they passed, it was no easy task, mind drifting and focus elsewhere, always feeling they could experience and learn more from the world around them than any book. While the past two decades have allowed them to experience beautiful and exotic places, they've also forced them to be witness to the suffering of the world — particularly of small islands, populations that have lived there for centuries and are often putting the least strain on the environment, remaining most affected by it. It’s why she’s journeyed to Ogden, the stillest she’s ever been and for the longest extent of time, leaving her skin itching for change. Nixie wants to learn and help the places and people that have come to be so important to her, but don’t be surprised if you find her arriving to class late or not at all, wandering the hiking trails while the skies are dark or laying on the water for so long people begin to worry she’s merely a body.

EXPAND ON HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR SKELETON TROPE;

For perhaps anyone who's appreciated an iteration of Hamlet, the visual is clear — long, disheveled hair and bare feet, clad in a dress and often pictured amidst flowers and water. It's not just the visual of her that takes people's mind to that place, however. They display the same childlike naivety, as if entirely unaware of the harsh realities of the word, a mind that it seems has taken a step away from the real world while at the same instant, holds gently onto secrets that no one else may ever may be privy to the knowledge of. At times it's unclear if Nixie is plagued by an invisible illness or merely not of this world, questions that her unwillingness to answer acts to make her all the more bewitching.

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER;

Their first encounter was unexpected and the ones that followed were even more so. Nixie was an almost impossible person to pin down, floating around with her parents like a piece of drift wood lost to the sea. It was thanks to the beautiful locations that their work took them that she was privy to many experiences most her age were not so lucky to enjoy. The couple may not have been able to afford the luxury of the vacation homes and resorts that the Morrison family could, but the ocean and it's mainland were things trickier to lay claim upon. The same beach at the same time, together and yet somehow worlds apart — though to an outside eye, it seemed the pair were either unaware or unaffected by that reality.

LINKS;

AESTHETIC | FASHION | INTERACTIONS | MUSINGS | PINTEREST | VISUALS

[r0botarmsapts]

Title: Fresh Starts and Unsettled Hearts. Characters: Raine Sage & Genis Sage Words: 1,000+ Disclaimer: I own this fanfiction but not the characters or game they’re from. Notes: This is an overdue SS for @theguineapig3​ Some tags: pre-game, angst with a happy ending, sage siblings Summary:

“This is where the last teacher we had lived,” the Mayor informed the pair of siblings, a long look on his face, mind on wondering if the young woman before him would truly work out. “It has been sometime since this village has had an educator for the kids, the house is in need of some work, but livable.” Back when it was shown love and care, the home had been one of the prettier ones in Iselia; since its abandonment, the empty house had fallen into disrepair. The Mayor saw no need to spend limited village funds on upkeep for an empty home, leaving that to whoever would try taking up the position of educating the village children and teenagers. Even now, after Raine had been bold to speak to him directly inquiring about the badly needed position, he could only hope he did not agree too hastily, though she had had the paperwork needed and proved herself to be far above average intelligence- enough to where he wondered why she would stop in their little village of all places where only down a little farther in the port city, he had no doubts she would have found a better paying job at their famous college. “That should be all for today. If you need someone else to do repairs on this place, I suggest Dirk, a Dwarven man that lives with his son just outside the village. The boy I warned you about. Lloyd means well, but can be a handful and difficult to teach.”

Raine clutched the small key in her hands far tighter than needed and she knew it after the Mayor handed it to her before their coming to the empty home. Even running logic, the weight of the key holding great importance for her and Genis and a chance at some security. The weight was assurance that today was real and Raine had not dreamt it. The weight being a reminder in her hands that they had a chance here. A chance for somewhere stable, to not worry over a place to hide away during the cold nights, figuring out where their next meal would be, if any for the day. The teaching job was hers, having no competition for the position, that taking away concern. Iselia was a small village, hardly a place scholars were looking to flock to and fight over. Iselia was in need of a teacher and Raine was in need of somewhere permanent to continue raising Genis. Iselia’s Mayor mentioning Dirk being a Dwarf did not sit well with the young woman, having a feeling she knew why, knew all too well. “I’ll keep that in mind. As for Lloyd, I haven’t had a student I couldn’t teach.” She replied assured and firm in her words. Her only true student so far had been Genis, making it a technical truth.

Genis, who had become wary and distrustful of many because their treatment during their forced travels. It was too hard for her to give him real hope, having been treated cruelly at such a young age, learning a lot of humans simply hated and looked down upon them because of their being half-elves. The siblings impressive magic and intellect hardly mattering at all. Only their appearance, their blood and what it meant did.

‘How long will we be able to stay here?’ Raine wondered, keeping her expression neutral; a bittersweet afternoon as earlier she had to tell her baby brother for their own safety and to have this place to live, he would have to lie a lot longer. Lie about what he was to survive again.

His blue eyes full of understanding in the worst way while replying with a simple “I know.”

That look on his face burned into her mind and she would do whatever was possible to ensure it never happened again.

Genis was seven.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to get unpacked. The children will be ready for you Monday morning." The Mayor gave a nod after speaking, having additional work to do now that Raine was there.

Once the man was gone and Genis was certain out of earshot, he said, “Man, I didn’t think he’d ever stop talking.” The boy frowned, still staying close to his sisters side. “I don’t think he believes you can do it.” The biting words were met with a hand on his head, which caused him to look up at her.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Okay,” his reply was a simple grumble of a doubting child, not ready to believe they had a real place to call their own yet- not when his entire life was traveling, make-shift camps, caverns, anywhere they could call shelter before moving onward.

Raine’s nose crinkled at the strength of the musty smell in the home, quick to open the windows and assess the work needed.

“Bleh, it stinks in here.”

“That’s to be expected. The Mayor did say it had been sitting for quite sometime.”

“Someone could have opened the windows or something.”

“I suspect they would have forgotten and then we would not have this home now.”

‘But for how long this time?’ Genis wanted to say, mouth set in a tight line, holding his tongue for the now. Raine was always working hard to make sure he had what he could, giving up meals to make sure he ate when their food was scarce. Genis knew more than he let on there with his older sister. It ate at him in painful ways that always hurt. The most he could provide on their travels was an ability to make a small fire- in a twist Raine had the healing magic, and Genis was showing signs to specialize in black magic. Genis would make fires for them when it was cold, and times they camped for the night.

And the times Raine tried to cook...

Tried.

Raine studied complicated things he did not yet understand during the times they had access to books. During those times, she could forget to eat, being so engrossed in her reading. At those times, Genis found out he could cook better than her. Starting with simple sandwiches, it was quickly discovered food Genis made was edible without worry of needing Raine’s healing magic.

Grimacing at the memory of her cooking, the young boy darted over to check out the kitchen area- opening bottom cabinets, checking the condition of the stove, and finding some pots and pans stored there. They needed some cleaning, not in the greatest condition, but with the few things there already, it would allow Genis to work on more complex dishes.

Genis was then quick to realize he would need a stool to stand on while using these things.

Being short sucked...

“Genis, come here and help with the beds!” Raine called, her back turned to him, fussing over the bedding, already starting stripping one to get it ready to be cleaned up. Once he stopped responding, she had saw him get lost in his own world for a moment, exploring and checking out the kitchen. It brought a smile to her seeing him appear so invested in it. This part of their lives was going to be a difficult new start, but at least the people of the isolated countryside, with its population of humans not being able to tell full and half elves apart, was the best chance they had in a long while.

The next day Raine made sure Genis had a stool for the kitchen.

[ear-worthy]

Seraphina Speaks Podcast: For Children Who Think...And Adults Who Should

There is a man I met in Illinois who records and distributes a podcast for the residents of his assisted living home. He is 91 years old and discusses life from the perspective of people in their 80s and 90s. The podcast is amateurish, beset by sound quality issues, and utterly charming.

This podcast exemplifies the innate beauty of podcasting as a media format because it can be tailored for any audience, no matter how old, or how young

Two weeks after that visit, I received a message from a Seraphina Malina-Derben complimenting my work. I found her message refreshing for two reasons. First, I receive many more "you are horrible" type of messages. Second, Seraphina is an 11-year-old student from Westminster, England in the United Kingdom. 

After checking her profile, I discovered that 11-year-old Seraphina is a podcaster and has a podcast -- Seraphina Speaks:For Children Who Think -- that she's been recording since she was seven years old. Her first episode was released in April 2020.

After recovering from the pleasant shock of such precociousness, I set about listening to 15 episodes of Seraphina Speaks. They're short, running from five to 15 minutes.

Here's their well-written promotional message:

"This award-winning family-friendly show inspires tweens and early teens to examine social norms and ordinary, everyday things. Everything from happiness, being a tween, chores, school, Race, toys, & more."

"Your host Seraphina Malina-Derben (currently 11 years old) started the show aged seven, as a small girl with big questions. Now older, she continues to query life’s basic situations. She brings thoughtful and fun conversation and is joined by her trusty triplet brothers plus different correspondents each episode. In 15-20 minute episodes, she reviews other family focused podcasts, with frequent guest appearances from hosts of these shows. Seraphina Speaks is listened to globally across schools, by children, and within families as conversation starters."

Some of my favorite Seraphina episodes include:

June 21, 2020 -- Seraphina starts by telling us her favorite cakes -- chocolate filling with chocolate chips inside and Victorian sponge cake. Then she discusses the wisdom of the familiar maxim, "You can't have your cake and eat it, too." Her seven-year-old sage advice on eating cake so it doesn't go to waste is spectacularly logical and childlike in its inherent wisdom.

October 10, 2020 -- Seraphina discusses farts and goes beyond the prototypical schoolboy fascination with passing gas. Seraphina gets down to business and explains what we should know about farts. She tells her listeners that the average human farts 14 times a day (Has she met my Uncle Dave?), the word "farts" comes from an Old English word, which means to break wind, and holding in farts can cause bloating. Also, her mother doesn't like the word "fart" and prefers the euphemism "wiffie." I prefer "puffy" as a more descriptive word. 

November 14, 2020 -- On this episode, Seraphina discusses racism and does it with more acumen and sensitivity than most U.S. Republican elected officials. She interviews George Floyd's uncle, Selwyn Jones, and I defy you not to hold in a tear.

In that episode, Seraphina asked, "How do we get rid of racism?" Then, she articulates a sensible solution that has evaded many adults. Her answer? "By talking about racism, of course," she insists.

The U.S. is going into an election this November with two over-the-hill men running. That's nuts. How about if we voted for an 11-year-old like Seraphina? I think she'd do a better job than Sleepy Joe and Dumb Donald.

We asked Seraphina how she got into podcasting? 

Seraphina answered: "Mama is a long-time podcaster, and I used to sit in on her interviews. I thought why can't I do that as it sounds like fun. All the tech kit was already available, so that helped. I was six at the time and started podcasting at seven." Seraphina continued: ""Mama is producer of Seraphina Speaks. We talk about content, scripting, etc. Marie is our editor and has worked on podcasts with Mama since 2018. She does sound. We've been careful to not go too much on Instagram, as I didn't want to do that. So Substack is where I feel comfortable, although I'm younger than the age that writers are supposed to be. Mama and I do the Substack."

Seraphina's recent episodes on body odor (odour, as the English spell it) pass the smell test for intelligent and sensitive ways to handle people with body odor. As Seraphina explains, tweens and teens have bodies that are changing radically, and those changes can precipitate alterations in body odor. Ever been around middle school boys? 

Her advice on telling someone they smell is: "Be gentle but don't mince your words. Be kind, be truthful, and make sure they know you care about them."

How is it possible that an 11-year-old girl from England offers better advice on life skills than many adults?  After listening to those episodes, if Seraphina is indicative of the generation that will one day rule the world, I feel comforted that she is only one of many who are socially aware, embrace diversity and inclusion, empathize with those who are disadvantaged, and determined to make the world a better place for all.

To me, Seraphina is another Greta Thunberg, the Swedish activist.

Asked about her future, Seraphina says: "I want to make a difference. I'm testing the water about how I will do that. It will involve my voice and has to be something I enjoy. That means something in the media that challenges the way the world is.  I may have to take a break to take exams when I'm older, but at the moment I don't have plans to stop. I'm a podcaster who loves podcasting."

Seraphina was named a young social impact hero for this thought leadership podcast.

Finally, read just two of the reviews listeners posted about Seraphina's podcast. I think they're priceless."I’m 11, and I’m using my mother’s account. I like how you explain things so that even if I knew nothing about the topic, I would still understand what you’re saying. I really enjoy when you say something is hard to pronounce. It makes me smile and you feel relatable!"

"We could listen to this podcast just to hear Seraphina talk—her voice is soothing and melodic. But more than the tone of her voice, Seraphina shares such interesting information on a variety of topics. Highly recommend!"

Check out Seraphina Speaks:For Children Who Think. What you may find is that children in this generation are smarter than we think, and have a more balanced, reasonable, and solutions-oriented view of the world than the adults that currently run it.

If I had a crystal ball, I'd predict that in the future, Seraphina will be either the most popular podcaster in the world, a future Prime Minister, or an influential social activist.

[zorkaya-moved]

"and you're not interested in being a sage, because...?" the side of his head resting against closed fist, book resting in the hand upon his leg, al-haitham looks up from the current object of his study to redirect it at his temporary research partner. even a deaf man wouldn't miss naphis' complaints. not that the scribe disapproves of her decision (quite frankly, he could not care less who becomes and sage and who doesn't, as long as he can continue his work as he intends to). call it professional curiosity. "i know lord kusanali has not offered any position to anyone yet, but that doesn't stop some of our other colleagues from campaigning. not your thing?"

@apocryphis

Because where I am right now, it'd be too easy.

Naturally, those words aren't voiced out loud as Al-Haitham's words interrupt her writing down the last report. Toxicology remains an essential part of her tasks while she is in Sumeru, ensuring that these reports will be received by the Matra in case of an emergency. New poisons appear on the black market and they are being used in different types of crimes, they must be prepared for any and all possibilities. Then again, having her request for research approved will take a couple of weeks, knowing how the current administration is faring. Her return post-downfall of the previous Sages has made her the center figure in certain discussions, including the next Sage candidate.

It's strange for Al-Haitham to start a conversation, but it seems her refusal to accept a role got even him to ask about it. Naphis must've been even more vocal since her return. As eyes of ichor find the Scribe's, her lips curl upwards into a small yet confident smile. Not the first one to ask, not the last. She's already been preparing to leave Sumeru, finding it to be rather disappointing with Azar's last plan. He failed her expectations and, perhaps, he should be punished for that.

"The position of a Sage restricts more than frees in my eyes," she begins, deciding it'd be a nice discussion to have in-between their silent diligent work. Their research requires patience and time, which they have an abundance of when there is no small talk in-between them. "Consider this to be pettiness of mine, but I already proved to everyone who doubted me that I deserve the respect I have now."

It's not a secret that being both a woman and a Snezhnayan put her in a complicated position. When you are born in a certain region with a controversial or negative reputation, arriving at a place so different would lead to a variety of negative reactions. Doubt. Suspicion. Hatred. Everything from condescending looks to questions why her region acts the way it does as if she has any say in the operations of Harbingers and the Tsaritsa. Not everyone was like that, but enough to make waves and create loud sounds. Even today, there are those who doubt her continuously to be the secret agent of Fatui. It's not the first time, it won't be the last. She doesn't even want to speak about being a woman in a traditional establishment led by men, in majority of situations. All Sages were men, all high-ranking professionals were men. Women didn't push that far, but she did. Out of pettiness, out of determination, out of challenge. Out of sheer desire to know how many would fall under her.

"If we are going by the popularity vote and achievements, I would - without a doubt - be a wonderful Sage," she returns her gaze to her reports, continuing to write it after giving a small nonchalant shrug over her confident stance. Her popularity in Sumeru is above and beyond, from researchers to small business to wealthy families.

Dunyarzad herself speaks highly of Dr. Sokolova, recalling the patient care and continuous attempts to make her feel better. There would be the Zubayr Theater who'll always speak brightly about Zarina's wish to offer finances and support them when times were tough because art was the best way to touch a human's soul. There will be forest rangers who would praise her skills in helping them patch wounds and ensure that there will be no casualties in any incidents. There are researchers who will stand behind her, owing their careers to her and telling how she taught them to look at the world differently, see it in a bigger picture. And there are merchants who cannot thank her for providing them with business, connecting them to the correct customers. Even Dori herself will speak in high praises about Sokolova who's been a wonderful customer where it mattered.

More than ten years of building a reputation of someone who is loved and appreciated, respected and adored. Why need the title of a Sage that will only chain her to one region and not allow her to move forward in directions where she wants to go? Especially when it would become boring. The moment she steps that high, her enthusiasm and her interest would dwindle, turning into frosted silhouettes and shattering, leaving her hollow and empty.

"However, I want to travel, I want to expand my horizons. By becoming a Sage, I will be unable to leave the Akademiya as much as I'd want to or take part in research I want to," she explains, well-rehearsed in her opinions and her answers. It's been explained to Naphis quite often, but there are underlining additional reasons that hide the serpent's venom. There will be no excitement, there will be no one to control who is seemingly above her, there will be no ability to do what she wants. "Also, there are many people who are still against me, Al-Haitham. It'd be a pain to have assassins sent after to me because I stepped on someone's heels by becoming a Sage."

It happened. Not once, but she doesn't need to say that because her words indicate it happened by themselves. He can come up with a number for himself. The Scribe is a smart man, especially being the star of Haravatat. Surely, he will understand what she means by that last sentence.

"I possess everything that a Sage should, it'd make me a perfect candidate. No one will refuse me, but..." Zarina sighs, placing her pen down, taking off the fake glasses and setting them to the side. She leans back against the chair, pushing it back to balance on the two back wooden legs while looking up at the ceiling. "I really don't want to sacrifice my future by tying myself to this profession. Becoming a Sage is a decades long commitment. Maybe with Lesser Lord Kusanali it will change, but the previous examples of Sages didn't give me a positive view on this position."

All of them were pathetic, in the end. Azar underestimated her and served as someone who could never speak against her but she never took anything material from him that would put her into a dangerous position. He never spoke about how he failed to take her for his plan and she simply took all of his information: the creation of a fake god, the work with Fatui. And he didn't even know she's been drugging him and other two sages for years, altering their personality bit by bit to the point now they were simply who they were. It's been stopped four years ago, but the effect was already done. There won't be another power high like that if she becomes a Sage.

Maybe it's time to start packing?

"You probably can't wait to leave the position of the Acting Grand Sage. Must be tough. Don't envy you."

[wanderer-moonchild]

As usual, when endgame lore drops, Kaeya’s stans go crazy with their theories bc our boy’s lore is pretty complicated and could fill an entire book. So, here’s my very long essay on it.

As much as Pierro’s design has similarities to Kaeya’s, I don’t think he is his father. At least, not with the amount of information we have about them.

According to the pale flame artifact, he was a sage who failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler and, somehow, he and Tsaritsa connected. “Then I shall become instead a fool, a Fatuus, and devote myself to Her Majesty, who understands my pain...”

Pierro’s main goal seems to be to challenge the divine principles in order to create a new world order. “Let us don our masks in mockery of the world as we go forth and rewrite the rules of destiny.”

He also wants to cleanse the abyss, where the cursed Khaenri’ahns live, and the Abyss Order carry their own plans. As we know so far, they are: create a mechanical god to match the god’s powers, revive the homeland and break Celestia’s curse. "Let the darkness of corruption, the pain of the world, and the humans, beasts, and the sin they carry all be purified by silent ice."

In the Wise Doctor's Pinion from the Pale Flame set, which has to do with Dottore and Pierro's relationship, it says that Pierro asked Dottore to create "improved humans" (experiments with god residue  as we’ve seen in the webtoon) and he even alluded to the possibility of creating a god-like being.

Fundamentally, the goals of the Fatui and the Abyss Order are the same and will have a similar outcome. Whoever succeeds in destroying the gods will create a completely different world. Perhaps these events will be similar to the Archon War.

The abyss sibling has emotional ties to Khaenri’ah and not only wants to overthrow the gods, but also to bring back their homeland so they can live a dignified life again.

Pierro, on the other hand, has apparently cut ties with his people who “ushered in a tide of wrath, destruction and foolishness” and devoted himself to Tsaritsa because she understood his pain. The fact that Pierro quickly turned to serve another royal leads me to believe that he fits the role of an advisor rather than a ruler.

What about Kaeya, then?

He was placed in Mondstadt as an agent of Khaenri’ah – not of the Abyss Order, not of the fatui. Plus, his lore seems to have more to do with the abyss than with the fatui:

The dwarf Alberich, which is Kaeya’s surname, is known as the ‘ruler of supernatural beings’. He appears in several epic German tales and, in the 'Der Ring des Nibelungen', he steals gold from the Rhine maidens to forge a ring that grants him this power. You know, Rhinedottir, Albedo’s creator who also goes by Gold???

Kaeya’s second constellation ‘Never-Ending Performance’ has the same name as Childe’s boss battle theme (chaeya confirmed).

Kaeya’s attacks are similar to those of Abyss Mages and Abyss Lectors.

Kaeya was the first person to tell the traveler about the Abyss Order’s leader, which I think is VERY SUS. The traveler and the anemo archon went off to deal with the Stormterror, leaving Kaeya to deal with a supposed attack by the Abyss Order that no one but him witnessed?? Even Amber was like “Kaeya is lazy and left me and the Knights alone to defend Mondstadt >:(“. The way Kaeya talks about this it’s also incredibly sus. He says he is blessed with “linguistic powers”, and later we learn that he can speak hilichurlian????

 ALSO, why would he tell the traveler, someone he barely knows, this important information? Sure, the traveler helped them and is the honorary knight, but… I don’t know, Kaeya certainly didn’t entirely trust them as we saw in his story quest, so that seems a little too convenient to me. Maybe he met the abyss sibling and was instructed to tell the traveler about it?

And that’s all I can think of right now.

I don’t think Kaeya works for the Abyss Order, though. It could be that there’s a 3rd group of Khaenri’ahns hanging around somewhere and they have closer ties to the abyss than to the surface, but they aren’t part of the Abyss Order.

A)

Dainsleif is one of the reasons I think that. He was the captain of the royal knights, and, in the chasm quest, he says that he went back to the castle after telling the knights to protect the people of Khaenri’ah. 

However, Dainsleif seems to not be aware of Kaeya’s existence and, somehow, he became closer to the abyss sibling rather than to the royal family, who he was supposed to serve.

Perhaps the royal family had already fled when he arrived at the castle, so he doesn’t know anything about their whereabouts? Perhaps that was the time when he and the abyssal sibling became closer? IDK, something must've happened in that short period of time.

B)

The other reason is the Abyss Corridor in the Spiral Abyss, which is known to connect worlds and was built by an ancient civilization long gone. What if the royal family fled to the Abyss Corridor when the gods attacked Khaenri’ah? Or they moved to the Abyss Corridor after Khaenri’ah fell into the abyss bc living there became impossible?

In his story, it says: “Kaeya's father squeezed his son's lean shoulders as he spoke, seemingly looking right through Kaeya to some place far beyond. On the other side of the horizon sat their distant homeland of Khaenri'ah.”

Hoyoverse could’ve said ‘ruins of Khaenri’ah’, or even mention something about Khaenri’ah being underground, but they didn’t. So, Khaenri’ah is still definitely a place somewhere and people who've received a curse similar to Kaeya probably live there.

SO…

In short, the characters from Khaenri'ah are all connected and have similar goals, but we lack information about how they relate to each other. Personally, I don't think Pierro and Kaeya are directly related because much of Kaeya's lore points to the abyss (not necessarily the Abyss Order) instead of the fatui, but perhaps Hoyoverse has an interesting way to connect them.

[chaos-has-theories]

(tags on my post about the Hanseatic league, by @smoresbythefyresyde and @voyage-of-the-basset)

That's two... and I meant to see if at least a third one would come in, but fuck it, I want to talk about the aye-aye.

This is an aye-aye. (A baby, to be exact; her name is Melisandre.)

If you just said "what the fuck is this", congratulations, you have contributed to one of the theories as to what its name means. (Apparently it's either a cry of astonishment; or "I don't know", or "we do not speak of this") If you want a name that's more informative, it's also called "long-fingered lemur".

And yes, it's a real animal, as i discovered to my shock while reading a book by Eva Ibbotson a few years after reading Physik. It's essentially a small primate that looks like a rodent and works like a woodpecker. (Though, please keep in mind, I am not well-versed in biology, and mostly got this off Wikipedia.)

Most of the pictures I could find of them look like when you suddenly turn the lights on on someone who was trying to sneak to the refridgerator in the middle of the night; probably because that's exactly what's happening here - they're nocturnal. They're also endangered and live exclusively in Madagascar, which means -

yeah. You probably have seen an aye-aye before.

Anyway, as you might see, they do not actually have a needle-like tooth, with which they spread a Sicknesse that can only be cured by the ancient art of Alchemie,

but they do have. Fingers.

Like, fascinatingly freaky fingers.

First of all, they technically have six of them, having developed a "pseudothumb" (and being the first primate discovered to have one!) Then there's the third finger, which is super thin: It's used to knock on wood to find hollow spots, which the aye-aye then chews open to fish out grubs using the fourth, long finger. In fact, those fingers are so specialized for "percussive foraging" that they're not even particularly good for moving about anymore - accordning to this article it looks "like a strange lemur walking on spiders". Which, wow.

I can't tell you why Angie Sage decided to add an endangered madagascar lemur into her story about future (?) fantasy England, nor why she added a tooth when it already has perfectly fascinating appendages... which is not to mention the fact that she continuously describes its tail as "snakelike" or "ratlike", when really it looks more like that of a squirrel.

But if you want to know why she used it for a narrative that hits a little too close to home during Covid, I direct you to the "folk belief" section:

The aye-aye is often viewed as a harbinger of evil and death and killed on sight. Others believe, if one points its narrowest finger at someone, they are marked for death. Some say that the appearance of an aye-aye in a village predicts the death of a villager, and the only way to prevent this is to kill it. The Sakalava people go so far as to claim aye-ayes sneak into houses through the thatched roofs and murder the sleeping occupants by using their middle fingers to puncture their victims' aorta.

On a slightly more positive (?) note, the German page states that "the aye-aye will make a pillow of grass for every human who sleeps in the forest", which is a good thing when found under your head and a bad thing when found beneath your feet; and that you actually shouldn't kill an aye-aye, lest you die within the year.

Either way an absolute creature which I might adore now; but possibly not one you want to come across in the middle of the night.

[gear-project]

How do Jack O and happy chaos' halos work? like are they solid or smtg? Can they be removed at will?

Jack O sometimes uses her halo as a hula hoop and uses it to attack, so that got me curious.

And then Happy Chaos' halo clips through the walls, but i assume that one's just 3d model bugs

I was just talking to @mr--link about this topic not too long ago.

Just what ARE Valentines… or are they related to Angelic beings? (Is what he asked me…)

To answer that question… well, it's not a complete answer, because Ishiwatari was hiding a few facts from us (and still is according to a recent interview).

If the Backyard is a Domain that governs the laws of the world (or rather the universe, like HEAVEN), does that mean Valentines who were born from the domain of the Backyard are Angels?

The Valentines were built using Justice as a Template… the Ultimate GEAR… they even used Aria as a template for being created.

Even I-No herself was technically a "template" for Happy Chaos Valentine (no relation to the "former" Original Sage).

BUT IN GENERAL, that only means they were "based" on Gears and Humans… not necessarily BASED on something like an Angel.

But here's the problem: Ishiwatari stated that the Halos DO have a connection between Happy Chaos and Jack-O' specifically…however he DID NOT tell us what that significance was!

In other words… during the Interview he was trying to keep a secret!

A Major Plot point that has yet to be revealed?

Originally, the reason that Jack-O' had a Halo in the first place was because she technically "wasn't born yet"… and the reason why Happy Chaos has a Halo still hasn't been explained, much less fully understood… ESPECIALLY SINCE HE HIMSELF IS TECHNICALLY NOT A VALENTINE.

The actual "backstory" of Angels is that they were meant to serve as Servants of God… servants of a Higher Being.

In fact, we still do NOT know WHY the Backyard exists… only that it DOES.

If Angels did exist (for example, the reason Dizzy looks the way she does…) it would suggest that there is a being out there that CREATED the Backyard and used Angels to make it (or expand it, or whatever tasks Angels were originally given).

Or, at the very least, Angels might have been used as a basis for all life as we currently know it.

Most of that is… you guessed it… SPECULATION.

Though, if there is a being that comes close to a an "Angel" by definition… it would be Justice.

Justice had a great amount of power, even an attack called "Michael Sword"… after Michael the Archangel.

So based on that supposition (via Justice), you could argue that Valentines are "descendants" of Angels… even if there's no immediate proof of such.

There is, however… one more clue to this puzzle: Heaven's Edge… the so-called Tomb of Possibility, the beach of Infinity…

If Jack-O' was born from the Backyard, she probably isn't the only being born from that place.

The Tomb of Possibility (Heaven's Edge) looks very much like the Red Ocean that appears when Sol fought the first Valentine as well (during GG2 Overture's events). One ocean linked to another ocean… you might say.

There's also another place that matches the same description as Heaven's Edge… but it's found in a completely DIFFERENT UNIVERSE…

The Gate of the Azure… in the world of BlazBlue.

The "Azure" itself embodies the concept of "Possibility"… so what could a Tomb of Possibility have to do with the POWER of Possibility itself?

Unlike BlazBlue… Guilty Gear "asserts reality" through Causality and Assertion, not leaving Possibility to chance.

The only person who might have a strong connection to other worlds besides that of Guilty Gear is Happy Chaos himself… most likely.

But only because he was tampering with something beyond his ken and power.

Anyway… the best answer right now is "maybe" there is a connection… we'll have to wait and find out what the full meaning behind that connection is.

An Angel's Halo is usually a symbol of "glory" or esteem, meaning the Angel is honored and respected and considered "holy" (set apart from common beings).

A broken or darkened halo would suggest a "fall from grace", or simply the idea that one has become "more human" or perhaps "less human"... depending on how you look at it.

If there are Angels… only Ishiwatari knows about this version of "Heaven".

[owl-with-a-pen]

brainy or nia try on karas glasses one day and kara realizes that they were brenda/brandon?

- Oh my god, yes! Thank you for the prompt. x

“No, no,” Alex said decisively. “It’s been years and I still don’t get it. How the hell do glasses make it impossible for people to recognise you? I’d know you from anywhere.”

Nia grinned from across the table, lifting her drink to her lips as Alex pinched Kara’s cheek, only to be batted away by her little sister a second later.

“Okay,” Kara said with a snort. “Your next round is gonna be water shots.” She turned her head from the table, making a show of searching the bar. “Where’s Al?”

“Oh, you know he heads out back the second this party rolls in,” Kelly said with an impish smile, raising her own glass. She took Alex’s hand before she could pester Kara any further, winding their fingers firmly together. “Although, I have to agree with the water.”

“Hydration would appear useful at this stage,” Brainy added with a sage nod. “She may also benefit from lining her stomach with something a little more substantial.”

Nia grinned, leaning back against Brainy’s chest. “Is that your not-so-subtle hint that you want more onion rings?”

She’d perched herself on the edge of Brainy’s stool some time into the evening; her smile widened when she felt his hands link around her front in response. “Sometimes, multiple issues can call for a single solution,” Brainy pointed out, tucking his face into her hair. “What is the saying? Two birds, one stone?” Nia's face warmed when Brainy’s lips traced idly along the side of her jaw.

Kara grinned. “Well, hey, I’m not gonna say no to more onion rings.”

It was fair to say that they’d all had a few drinks between them by now, although Kelly and Alex were strictly drinking from the human menu. Things always got a little whacky with alien grade alcohol, and despite her half-Naltorian genetics, Nia had barely been able to stomach a single sip of Brainy’s drink of choice. It suited his tolerance level far better, and made for a slower automatic response for his body to factor out the alcohol and sober him up. If his sudden confidence with intimacy in a public environment was anything to go by, Nia figured it was definitely working.

Nia knew Kara was drinking something similar to Brainy, although her Kryptonian biology made her far more resilient against its contents. She wasn’t even slurring.

Meanwhile, Nia was feeling all kinds of warm inside. Although, Brainy’s hold on her was probably a major factor in that.

It had felt like forever since they’d last gone out like this, and from the recent stress they’d all been under, it wasn’t exactly surprising that they’d found their way to Al’s bar. Plus, after the number of times they’d saved this place from one catastrophe or another, they got some incredibly generous discounts even on some of the rarer beverages. It was just unfortunate that Alex’s human tolerance really wasn’t matching up. And, considering Kelly was still on her first drink, she was currently the only person everyone was sorely worried about getting home safely that night.

With that in mind, Nia was just about to suggest heading up to the bar to go order, when Alex made her move, whipping her hand out quick enough to snatch Kara’s glasses straight from her face, balancing them across her nose.

She turned to Kelly immediately, staring at her levelly. “Well?” she asked expectantly. "How do I look?”

“It’s like looking at a total stranger,” Kelly deadpanned. She smirked, leaning in closer. “Although, they do make you kinda mysterious.”

Alex’s smile broadened. “Oh really?”

“My turn!” Nia chirped, plucking the glasses from Alex’s face. She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin up with her hands the moment she had the glasses on. She narrowed her eyes, testing out her new perspective. As anticlimactic as it was, nothing really changed. It was just like staring through two pieces of clear glass. Nia pouted. She supposed it wasn't unexpected - that was exactly what she was doing, after all.

“It’s weird being able to see clearly while wearing someone’s else’s glasses,” Nia mused, playing around with the glasses’ temples, wiggling them up and down in front of her face. “Has anyone who didn’t know your secret ever done this before?” She jerked her head up, snapping her fingers. “Ooh, I know, I bet you just tell them you both need the same prescriptions. Am I right, or am I right?”

Kara didn’t answer.

“...Kara?”

When Nia turned, she realised that Kara was staring directly at her, a half-stunned daze in her eyes.

“What, did the alcohol finally kick in?” Nia prodded good-naturedly, only for Kara to reach out suddenly, taking the glasses away from her. “Hey! I was using those!”

Kara remained silent. Instead, with unnerving intensity, she came forward, slipping the glasses onto Brainy’s face. Brainy jerked from the unexpected contact, lifting them away from his nose as though they'd burned. He blinked quickly in affront, eyeing Kara suspiciously. “What was that for?” he asked.

“It was you two,” Kara said mildly; her voice sounded far too calm for comfort, like she was on the verge of a full-blown freak out. “All those years ago, in Midvale. It was you.”

Nia spluttered at the exact same moment as Brainy. She snapped her head towards him desperately. “What?” she asked, registering the panic in Brainy’s eyes that she knew was reflected identically in her own. “No—what—no?” She dug her hand into her boyfriend’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“I have no idea what you are- what she’s talking about-” Brainy snorted defensively. “Do-do you?”

Nia nudged him nervously, eyes wide. “I just said I didn’t, genius.”

“...Right,” Brainy said quickly, clearing his throat. He raised his voice, turning back to Kara. “Two admissions though! Thus further proving that we have no idea what you are talking—”

But, Kara was still staring, a cold glare of certainty in her eyes. “I’d know that scrambling for an excuse anywhere,” she said, taking Brainy’s hands and guiding the glasses back into place over the bridge of his nose. She met no resistance this time, Brainy was far too busy gaping at her. “Brendan.” She turned to Nia accusingly. “Brenda.” Her lips split into a pained smile. “Rao- I thought you two were hiding something, but I was willing to accept it, because... I thought you were lost.”

“In our defence, we sorta were,” Nia admitted sheepishly. “The crash wasn’t part of the plan.”

It was Brainy’s turn to nudge her. “Nia.”

“Give it up, Brainy.” Nia cringed. “We’re caught.”

Kara ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in bewilderment. “What were you guys even doing there? When did this even happen for you?”

“When you were in the Phantom Zone,” Nia said slowly, ducking her head.

“We needed your DNA,” Alex said softly. It sounded as though the recent commotion had done a good job at sobering her up. “To track you down.”

“It was thanks to these two that we were able to save you at all,” Kelly added.

Something crossed Kara’s expression then, but it was so quick that Nia barely caught it. All she knew was that in that moment, Kara looked entirely vulnerable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked weakly.

Brainy swallowed hastily. “Had you known our true identities in 2009, it would have caused ramifications in the timeline that could have irrevocably changed the future.”

“I don’t mean then,” Kara said sharply, attention snapping to Brainy. Her expression fell. “Why not when I came back?”

“It didn’t seem… necessary,” Brainy said uncomfortably. Nia felt his grip tighten back around her and ran her hand across his arm, squeezing gently.

Kara scoffed, folding her arms. “Not necessary? You guys were in my past—you saved my life, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“So much happened,” Nia said carefully. “Kara, we didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already had been.”

“Come here,” Kara said suddenly.

Nia blinked her surprise, catching Brainy’s eyes quickly for confirmation. Hesitantly, Brainy nodded, unlocking his arms from around Nia’s waist. Nia slipped from the stool, stepping towards her alongside Brainy.

They stared at her unsurely for all of two seconds before Kara came forward, swooping them both into the most intense super hug Nia thought either of them had ever experienced.

Nia gasped for breath, wrapping her free arm automatically around Kara’s back. The brush of Brainy’s fingers confirmed to her that he had done just the same.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to say this,” Kara murmured into the space between them. “But, thank you. Both of you, for everything that you did.”

“For... saving your life?” Brainy asked, voice muffled with confusion. “You’re... very welcome?”

Kara laughed, pressing her face into his hair. “Not that. Okay, well, of course that. But,” She sighed, drawing away again, her hands still locked tightly against each of their arms, “you both came to me at a time where I was questioning so much. My future, my identity, my place on Earth. I was hurting, in more ways I ever let on. And without you two—I don’t know what I might have done differently.”

Nia smirked. “Wait…” She turned her head towards Brainy. “Does that mean we were always meant to travel back to 2009?”

“Pre-destined time travel.” Brainy pondered on that thought for a long moment, his lips twitching into a smile of his own. He shrugged. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“You did crash, though,” Alex pointed out from across the table.

Brainy shot her a glare.

“Destiny,” Kelly cut in, sighing dreamily. “I like that, though.”

Nia knocked Brainy’s arm playfully. “Just like how you coming to this time gave you the chance to live freely. With us.” Nia squeezed her boyfriend's hand secretively before she turned back to Kara, smile softening. “Maybe we gave that same chance to you, too.”

“Thank you,” Kara said again. She blinked, wiping quickly at her face where tears were near approaching. “I- I don’t even think just saying that cuts it.”

Nia's smile widened mischievously. “Hey, does that mean the next round isn’t on us?”

Brainy raised a finger in consideration. “I believe tap water is on the house, anyway.”

“Hey, no water,” Alex shot back. “And you guys are not getting out of shots that easily.”

They all laughed at that. And, just like that, Nia felt as though an invisible tension that had been tethering them together had finally loosened.

She smiled as she re-joined her family back at the table, hand-in-hand with Brainy.

For the first time in a long time, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants to Know Part Four (Lena Luthor x Reader)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Summary: Why can’t you learn to control your emotions?

Words: 1576

Warnings: Language, angst, talks of violence.

Taglist:  @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami​ @aznblossom​

A/N: So I did a thing. And here we are.

-X-

Planning a demise wasn't terribly time consuming when someone like Lockwood was helping. Dastardly and vile, his ideas were straight to the point as you discussed your options. While you couldn't outright end the human's life with your own hands, he was quick to point out the most effective options that even a great angel like Lena couldn't stop. Cars were too uncertain and, while the elevator had been a good touch, something like that was too preventable.

"You need quick. Abrupt. No possible room for survival," Ben advised, sunglasses obscuring his face despite having no need for them as he eyed the blonde strolling briskly past you, none the wiser of your existences.

"True, but we have to be smart," you added, glancing around in search of Lena's tell: her "heavenly" glimmer.

"Yes, yes, I know. Your little angel is cunning but I think you give her too much credit," Ben replied, his eyes undoubtedly rolling as he sneered at the humans walking along.

Snorting, you jabbed your dagger into his side, ignoring his hiss of pain or the way he swatted at your hand. "No, I'm just not arrogant enough to underestimate her."

Your eyes strayed back to Kara as she slipped back into her office building and then - only then - did you seem the shine of the angel that often haunted your thoughts. The cretins of the earth couldn't see her but you could, her dark locks fluttering in the wind as she gazed back at you pleadingly.

Pieces of you hated her. Truly. Deeply. You would bear marks for the rest of eternity because of her.

But in the same token, you couldn't deny that your memories with her often left your stomach twisted in knots as you reminisced over the smile that made your heart ache. It hurt, remembering how things had once been. Before you were forced to fight with her; fight for your life.

You could see Lena's expression shift the moment it dawned on her who was standing beside you. The way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, defiantly glaring at the smug demon beside you.

"Uh oh. I think your little angel recognizes me," Ben cackled, fingers curled into a taunting wave.

Snarling your lip, you growled, "She's not my angel, you ass. Now shut up before I cut your fucking tongue out."

Ben clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Testy, testy, (Y/N). Such a killjoy."

Cutting your eyes at him, your grip tightened on your dagger. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

You glanced back over to the building, but Lena was nowhere to be seen.

-X-

Querl studied his ward curiously, occasionally reading whatever Nia was writing though his stare always returned to the woman he was sent to protect. She was so entrancing and for once in his existence, Querl wished to be human again. If only for a day.

So enthralled by Nia, he didn't notice Lena's presence until her voice startled him off the desk he'd been perched on.

"Gods, Lena, you scared me!" he yelped, clutching his chest as he stared at the openly bothered woman.

"Maybe if you had been paying attention to your surroundings and not gawking, you would've noticed me," Lena scolded, though her words held no real bite to them.

"You seem troubled." Querl's brows furrowed together worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Shaking her head, Lena snagged her bottom lip between her teeth before sighing. "No. Complications have arisen and I'm unsure of what's going to happen."

"What complications?"

Peering over at Kara's messy desk, her nostrils flared slightly. "It appears (Y/N) has been given a helper. Lockwood."

Inhaling sharply, Querl's eyes flitted between Nia and Kara. "What should we do?"

"Be watchful. And careful. (Y/N) might have once been a friend but with Lockwood here, we must be vigilant or they'll both be dead before we can stop it."

It was difficult, accepting your new role in her life. Mortal enemies instead of teasing rivals you'd once been. Friends no longer, especially if you were willing to work with him.

A monster in every sense of the word.

"If she's working with him, you need to be careful. This seems way more personal than just an assignment," Querl advised sagely. "I want to believe it isn't but I can't imagine Ben will let this finish without trying to end you. Or having her try to kill you, to prove herself."

Your punishment had been no secret, most of the guardians far too aware of what your friendship with Lena had left you with, the bad blood thick and the scars deep.

"(Y/N) wouldn't..."

"Maybe the old (Y/N) wouldn't but now? Everything is different, Lena. You must accept that. Putting too much faith in her could cost us everything."

Swallowing dryly, the angel nodded. He was right...

She just wished he wasn't.

-X-

"We could always send a helicopter crashing into the building," Ben mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If that didn't kill the human, surely the building collapsing would."

"That would kill too many others," you argued, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. "We're supposed to be discreet. Dropping a building on a bunch of them definitely wouldn't be discreet."

Lockwood shrugged, completely unbothered by his suggestion. "The human must die. At least we'd know for sure she was dead. Plus Querl's little charge is up there. Two sad, pathetic birds. One mighty stone."

"Not a chance, Woody, pick a new idea."

Ben sneered. He hated that nickname and you knew it, only using it to get under his skin. "Fine."

Smirking at his obvious annoyance, you peered up at the sky absently, noting the darkening clouds. You couldn't remember life as a human (if you'd ever been one to begin with) but you almost wished you could if only to feel the rain on your skin. It seemed like such a peaceful experience, the water trickling over flesh, soaking into clothes instead of rolling off dark wings.

"I'm going to see if I can come up with a better plan," you jeered, heading for the building before he could reply.

Stretching your wings, you kicked off the ground and slowly maneuvered to the floor your mark resided on, eyeing the oblivious blonde through the window. You were well aware you'd be attracting unwanted attention but you couldn't stand being around Ben any longer. If you didn't get a few minutes of space, you were likely to ram your dagger into his throat and send him back to the underworld without his body.

The shift of the air was apparent and you smirked knowingly at Lena's reflection in the glass.

"Stop smirking at me," Lena demanded, arms crossed in frustration.

Snorting, you twisted to face her, brow arching in amusement. "Or what?"

"You're working with Lockwood now?" she questioned, ignoring the challenge hidden in your words. "You hate that spawn of Hell."

You shrugged nonchalantly, peering at the throngs of people below. "He's my ticket to survival."

"He's a slimy coward who wants you dead!"

"Clearly so do you!" you shouted, eyes narrowing into a venomous glare dripping with disdain. "At least he's trying to keep me alive a little longer."

"You're an idiot if you really believe that."

Rolling your eyes, you inched closer to the infuriated woman. "No, I was an idiot thinking you ever cared about me, Lena. At least Lockwood doesn't lie to my face and pretend to be my friend."

"I am your friend!" Lena screamed, the green of her irises dissolving as energy flowed through her. "I don't want you to die!"

As if sensing the tension, the sky went alight with lightning as rain began to flow, startling the humans and hurriedly soaking them to the bone. If only it could wash away the anguish and pain twisting your insides; silence the beasts banging around in your head.

"Bullshit! You pretend to be some pure, precious guardian but you're really just as manipulative and cruel as every other angel. You think that energy of yours makes you above everyone but you're no better than me! And I should've seen that instead of falling in love with some white-winged bitch!" You shoved her, hard, barely containing the want to strangle the guardian who'd ruined you.

Fury washed over you in waves, rendering you heedless of the unwitting admittance that had passed your parted lips, only the sounds of your enraged breathes ringing in your ears. A flurry of emotions crossed Lena's features but you didn't care, simply wanting to either bolt away from the angel or toss her into the sun.

Whichever was easier.

"Y-you're in love with me?" she whispered, the power draining away and leaving behind imploring emeralds that were glassy with something.

The blood drained from your face as you poured through your last words. You had never meant to say that. Because you weren't in love with her. Couldn't be. There was no love in your heart, especially for her.

"I..."

Lena's fingers twitched, the urge to reach out overwhelming as she silently begged you to stay. To help her understand.

"(Y/N)-"

Shaking your head violently, you jerked backward. "No! No, no, no. I don't - I can't - fuck!"

Red lips dipped open but you didn't stay long enough to hear what she had to stay.

Fire erupted...

And then you were gone.

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

HiJack AU - Rise of the Guardians Plotbunnies

(Context: Before Hiccup returns to HQ when the Guardian signal came up, he was spending time with Jack, as per usual. When the signal came up, he had to go. Jack looked disappointed, because Hiccup had just arrived a bare ten minutes ago. It was the quickest the Aide of Hope had to leave. Hiccup was in a rush to leave, since it was the first time in a long time that the urgent signal was put up to assemble all guardians at the same time, the last time was to report about what had happened to Kozmotis. In his rush, he wasn't thinking, and accidentally kissed Jack on the cheek in a parting kiss.

They were both shock.

Before Jack could collect himself to make a respond, Hiccup dashed off, all the while thinking "Shit shit shit shit shit what did I just DO?!)

More details added to the Answer (an ask from @hamish-fanfic-fangirl )already mentioned here

The Guardians love children, as they are the Guardians of Childhood. They can't, however, have children. With the exception of Kozmotis and Anastasia's relationship, as they were created together at the same time by Manny.

Manny formed Pitch to safeguard chaos energy that would strike fears in children and leave them traumatize, impeding a healthy and happy development of growing up. Anastasia was formed at the same time, because children, and to an extent people, need to live in a harmonize environment, right?

The Guardians do consider themselves, as what humans coined nowadays, as 'Found family.' Addition to that, they think if they could have kids, they would be like and be treated like their aides.

They joke about it sometimes; North fits the role of a dad, as leader of the Guardians, Thiana being like the mother, with Aster, Sandy, and Kozmotis like uncles. Sandy's the "cool" uncle with a lot of stories to tell (or show). Kozmotis is the "chill" uncle who leaves you be but offers sage wisdom whether or not you ask for them. Aster is the one who nags a lot, sometimes more than the parents but is exciting to spend time with because of all his cool tricks.

Jamie and Astrid found it awkward, but Thiana was being playful and pretending to be like a parent and giving Jamie 'the shovel talk', when Astrid and Jamie got together, as she heard a story told to her by North, from Jim.

She was sweet about it though, going on about how they should be caring of each other and how lovely it all was so Jim made a remark later that he didn't think the guardian of memories got the point of a 'Shovel talk'

Even to the aides that aren't their own, the Guardians do feel rather paternal/maternal towards them.

Dialogue

North: Sandy, thank you for coming.

Sandy descends from the plane and floats to the ground. He joins North, Bunny and Tooth as they walk through the Globe Room. Sand glyphs appear above Sandy's head communicating

Jamie: He says that he is busy and has a lot of work to do.

North: I understand, you work ‘round the clock, da, But I obviously wouldn't have called you all here unless it was serious.

North, Bunny, Tooth and Sandy reach the center of the room. Tooth does her best to shush her mini-fairies.

North: Kozmotis as the Boogeyman was here at the Pole. *points to the globe. The everyone turns to look.*

Astrid: *shocked* Sir Kozmotis? Here? After all this time...

Jamie: Jim, did you really see...

Jim: Well, I didn't but sir North had. I think, I... Wait. *frowning as he looked around in concern* Where's Dimitri?

Tooth: But... Pitch Black? Was it really him?

North: Yes! There was black sand covering the globe.

Aster: What, what...what do you mean black sand?

North: And then a shadow!                                                

Aster: Hold on, hold on, I thought you said you saw Pitch.

North: Well, ah, not exactly...

Aster: Not exactly? Can you believe this guy?

Bunny turns to Sandy, who shrugs while forming a Dreamsand question mark above his head....

Aster: Yeah, you said it, Sandy.

Bunny goes back to painting one of his Easter eggs.

North: Look, he is up to something very bad. *gropes his gut* I feel it, in my belly.

Aster: *eyes narrow* Hang on, hang on, you mean to say, you summoned me here THREE DAYS BEFORE EASTER - because of your? Mate, if I did this to you three days before Christmas-

Tooth (to her fairies): Argentina. Priority alert! A batch of bicuspids in Buenos Aires.  Weather advisory, Astrid?

Astrid: *Pauses* Fair, all of them. Snowstorm warning in Moscow.

Jamie: Maybe that's where Jack is now.

Jim: And maybe Hic too; would explain why he's running late... Now Dimitri...           

North grabs Bunny's painted egg, casually juggling it in his          hand as he walks off. Meanwhile Sandy, who is being served          eggnog by a yeti, suddenly notices something high above.         

North: Please. Bunny. Easter is not Christmas.

Aster: *sarcastic laugh* Here we go... North, I, I don't have time for           this. I've still got two million eggs to finish up.

The moon rises into view, high up in the ceiling; its rays of light begin to shine brightly through as they cascade down the walls of the globe room.

North: No matter how much you paint, is still egg!

Sandy points to the moon unsuccessfully to get the others' attention. Even Jamie is distracted with Jim and Astrid, talking about whether one of them (Jim) should go and get Dimitri. Their guardians are distracted and they didn't want to interrupt them...

Aster: Look, mate, I'm dealing with perishables. Right. You've got all year to prepare.                                                

Tooth (to her fairies): Pittsburg, boy eight, two molars. Saltwater taffy.

Sandy puts his fingers in his mouth to whistle, a silent musical note forming above his head.                                                

North (to Aster): Why are rabbits always so nervous.

Aster: And why are you always such a blowhard!                                  

Tooth (to her fairies): Ontario, sector nine: five canines, two molars, and fourteen incisors. Is that all in one house?

Sandy waves a sand flag above his head, pointing and jumping and down as the moonlight continues to fill the room.

North: Tooth! Can't you see we're trying to argue.

Tooth: *Good naturedly* Sorry, not all of us get to work one night a year. Am I right, Sandy?

Sandy tries to signal with a golden arrow, pointing toward the ceiling, but to no avail as the others continue their bickering. Sandy thinks Tooth has noticed for a split second, but then-    

Tooth (to her fairies): San Diego, sector two! Five incisors, a bicuspid and a really loose molar on stand-by.

North: I know it was him. We have serious situation!

Aster: Well, I've got a serious situation with some eggs.

Tooth: Hey, I hate to interrupt the, "We work so hard once a year club" but could we concentrate on the matter-

A silhouette comes out from a black spot of a shadow in the middle of the room, and Dimitri comes up and stumbles out from it. The aide of the former Guardian of Chaos seemed recovering from injuries. Even with his quick healing, it's taking some time...

Jim: Dimitri!

Jim rushes to help support him...

Tooth: Oh dear!

Astrid: Is he okay?

Dimitri: Sorry... The darkness is more restless than ever for some reasons. I had to defeat about a dozen minions before securing and leaving the base.

Jim: Wha- so if Pitch is really back, why hadn't he showed up here yet?

North: He did lad!

Jim: All due respect sir, you said it was a shadow.

North: Shadows are his thing!

Dimitri: I don't think that was Pitch yet, but a harbinger, maybe? If he had awoken, I think I would be the first to know.

Aster: Hah!

Sandy can't take it anymore, grabs an elf by his hat, and vigorously shakes it's bell. The other Guardians are finally silenced and all turn to look at Sandy, who points up, a sand crescent moon forming above his head. The dizzy elf staggers away. Finally the others turn to see the shaft of moonlight as it concentrates on the circle between them as Manny starts beaming down into the room...

North: Aah! Man in Moon! Sandy, why didn't you say something?

Sandy gives him a deadpan stare, Dream sand smoke shoots out his ears.                                                

North (to Man in Moon as he finally appears, with Anastasia by his side) : It's been a long time old friend! Madam Mother Nature *bows curtly*

Manny: Likewise.

Anastasia: A pleasure as always, North.

North: So... What is big news?

Manny: Before I get that, there is one thing I need to address first...

Everyone looks to the center of the room where Manny manipulates moonlight to shine down intensely, the light ebbs away, leaving a dark spot ---- which resolves into the shadowed silhouette of Pitch. The Guardians look on, stunned.                                                

Aster: It is Pitch.                                  

North pats his belly and gives Bunny a look...

North: Manny... what must we do?

Manny: The matter I mentioned needing to be addressed...

The shadow of Pitch disappears and the circle of moonlight intensifies and shrinks, concentrating further luminating an ornate symbol on the floor, at the center of their circle. The symbol rises out of the ground revealing a large gem at the head of a pillar.                                                

Tooth: Ah, guys, you know what this means?

The moons light suddenly refracts through the gem casting          light all over the chamber.                                                

North: He's choosing an aide for himself.

Aster: What?! You never needed one before, why now?

North: Must be big deal! Manny thinks we all need help!

Aster: We have our help. *Gestures to all aides present* Now if my own would show up too...                                               

Tooth: I wonder who it's gonna be?

Then a bright flash, a rush of wind- and a FIGURE resolves over the central pillar: slight, hooded, bearing a familiar  hooked staff.                                                

North:

North: Jack Frost.

The Mini-Teeth all sigh and swoon as the Guardians stand there, stunned.                                                

Jim: Well then, at least Hiccup's going to be happy

Astrid: *Shrugs, and idly shifts her axe from one hand to another* Well, as long as he does his part in caring for the children…

Tooth: And Hiccup’s going to be motivated more than ever now too.

Aster: Jack Frost!? He doesn't care about children! All he does is freeze water pipes and mess with my egg hunts. Right? He's an irresponsible, selfish...                                                

Manny: Aide.                            

Aster: I can tell you that Jack Frost is a lot of things, but he's--

Hiccup finally flies in with Toothless

Hiccup: I'm sorry I'm late! *He jumps down from Toothless* Snow storm in Moscow delayed me... Er, among other things...

Everyone looks at him

North: Perfect timing Hiccup! We need you to find Jack and bring him here.

Hiccup, remembering his final moments with Jack before leaving, looked mortified...

Hiccup: Do you guys hate me or something?

[vortexbeyondthestars]

decided to post some of my ideas for a ninjago/atla au besties. tell me whatcha think

under read more cus its kinda long lmao

some background first…

here, the first spinjitzu master is smth that doesn’t actually exist in avatar bc i couldn’t for the life of me figure out what to make him so now he’s like… he’s basically the child of all the original benders: the badgermoles, the sky bison, the dragons, and the moon spirit combined. he was born of their powers, and he was the first avatar, kinda like this au’s version of raava i guess?? so this au’s version of vaatu is the overlord, and like in ninjago, they have this never-ending rivalry. and the overlord is an avatar, too, but more of a dark one. it only cares about corruption and evil.

the first bending master, as he’s called in this au, manages to banish the overlord into the spirit realm, but he knew that one day, it would return. so he creates a land called ninjago and fills it with people of all kinds, each corner of the world having one type of bending. he gave the humans bending, but only one type for each person.

he didn’t want a repeat of the overlord.

so then he has two sons: wu and garmadon. he hemmed and hawed over what elements to give to them, but eventually he chose. wu gets airbending, the element of life and serene and calm. garmadon gets firebending, rough and harsh and the element of destruction. his fire is violet and incredibly hot.

everything goes fine, and the first bending master manages to keep balance of the world as its avatar. except the overlord does indeed return.

garmadon gets corrupted by its spirit and is bitten by the great devourer. he becomes obsessed with power and wanted to be the avatar more than anything in life. he believes that his father was holding his powers back because he didn’t trust him. and he believes that his father was going to hand over his power to wu after he died. and he couldn’t have that.

wu notices his downward spiral and suggests that he take a trip to visit the mortals. maybe that would help him realize that there is reason for their father being the only avatar in the world.

so garmadon goes down into the mortal plane. and meets fire lord chen and his second in command clouse.

fire lord chen is quite interested in an old legend of what is called the serpentine: ancient tribes of snake people said to have been born from the hatred and despair of the overlord, led by the toughest and the greatest, the great devourer. chen wants to bring these serpentine back, and at first garmadon agrees to help him, if only to get revenge on his father.

but he snaps out of it, because he realizes that its the great devourer’s fault in the first place that he’s like this. he betrays chen and clouse and warns wu of their plan, but without telling him whose plan it is. together, the brothers manage to gather together an alliance of the greatest bending masters in the world. garmadon wants their father to help, but wu gives some unfortunate news.

the first bending master is near his deathbed. he is very, very ill, and he is thousands of years old at this point. he wants rest.

so, naturally, garmadon is conflicted about this. he’s ecstatic bc he thinks that he can gain the powers of the avatar once his father passes, but also he’s sad, because, well, thats still his dad after all.

but anyway, the bending alliance manages to defeat the serpentine and seal them away in the spirit realm, like the first bending master had done to the overlord. this… turns out to be a bad idea.

fire lord chen and clouse both manage to shift the blame away from them, and since garmy was the only one who knew they caused the plan, he lets it happen. because he still is a bit evil.

something happens that gives him hope, though: he meets misako, who might be the love of his life. (also in this au that weird love triangle shit don’t happen) they get married, and for a while, garmadon seems perfectly sane. but.

the first bending master dies.

lloyd is born almost right after.

no one makes the connection, though, thankfully, but it is enough for garmadon to lose whatever sanity he had left. he completely goes insane.

he races back to their family monastery believing that he can and will gain the powers of the avatar, somehow, but he doesn’t. and that is too much for him to take. all of this… all of this… waiting… for nothing?

garmadon stares at himself in the mirror. he looks down at his hand, at the bite mark blemishing his skin, and grabs a ceremonial knife. he laughs to himself and places his hand on the mirror, slowly raising his knife towards it… he thinks he can stop all this pain in one easy swoop.

garmadon, sneering at himself: maybe… maybe this will fix it… if i just cut off the damn thing…

first bending master, in the mirror: i would not recommend it, son.

garmadon, face falling: why are you here?

first bending master: i came to speak with you. and to try and help you.

garmadon, snarling: don’t pretend like you care about me! i know what you really think. you think i’m a monster.

first bending master: i think you’re conflicted. the part of you that wants to be the avatar so badly you are willing to kill for it… that part of you clashes with the real you. the one that wants everyone you care about to be safe. your brother, your friends, your wife… your son.

garmadon: *laughs and turns around* why should i care about them, father? they don’t care about me! not my brother, not my wife, not my so-called friends, and certainly not you! the only one who does care about me is my son, and thats only because he doesn’t know any better. he’ll leave one day too.

first bending master, solemnly: you are wrong. i do care about you. i always did. i love you, garmadon. i do.

garmadon shakes, his hand gripping the knife tighter. his mouths trembles, and eventually turns into a scowl. he whirls around to face the mirror and slams his knife into it, shattering it into pieces.

he gets worse from there on. he begins to attack people left and right, villages and cities, even going so far as to consider breaking the serpentine free. he doesn’t get that far, though, because his brother interrupts him.

wu is very concerned, bc, well, garmy was a bit weird but never straight up insane like he is now. so he heads over to his family’s old monastery. there, he finds garmadon, seething and stewing. garmadon doesn’t take his arrival well.

garmadon: ugh! for once, can’t you just leave me alone?!

wu: no, i cannot. this isn’t you, brother! you must snap out of it!

garmadon: this is me! this has been me for my entire life, wu! i can’t change it now, and i can’t even be the avatar. what’s the point?

wu: the point is that father trusted us to take care of ninjago once he passed on. we have a duty.

garmadon: father was a fool, and father was selfish! i am remaking the world in my own image, an image that won’t let anyone have the kind of power that he did, except for those who are worthy!

wu: that’s crazy! you can’t just pick and choose who gets to be the most powerful bender in the world!

garmadon: isn’t that what father did, though, when he died? who is the new avatar, wu?! tell me!!

wu: i don’t know. and neither will you, if you keep this up.

garmadon: *laughs* are you threatening me?

wu: i am.

garmadon: fine. you want to take control of ninjago over me? fine. fine. fine. i challenge you to an agni kai! the battle that was always meant to be.

wu: very well.

garmadon: for the record… i’m sorry it had to end this way, brother.

wu, sadly: no. you aren’t.

cue final agni kai type fight, light vs darkness. fire vs air. obviously, wu wins, and manages to chain garmadon up so he can’t attack anymore. garmadon then has a complete psychotic breakdown like azula, complete with the spitting fire and sobbing hysterically while wu watches sadly.

wu banishes garmadon to the spirit realm, because he doesn’t think there’s anything else he can do.

ninjago is saved.

or so he thinks.

see, chen and clouse are still around. as are the serpentine, biding their time in the spirit realm. they meet garmy and decide that they should work together. garmadon, so torn up by hatred and despair, agrees to help them, if he gets to destroy his brother.

meanwhile, everything is going good.

lloyd is the avatar, obviously, but he’s only like. thirteen when he finds out. he’s an airbender avatar and lived with koko (bc its my au and i get to pick the mom i use) in one of the air temples (idk which one tho). he’s raised believing that he’s just a random kid who happens to serve the avatar, kinda like kyoshi.

that avatar he believes he serves is none other than morro, the adopted son of airbender sage wu. morro is four years older than lloyd, and he was just revealed to be the airbending avatar. morro, of course, is thrilled. but he also gets an incredibly big ego over it, believing that he is better than other people bc he is the avatar. the reason he was thought to be the avatar was because he appeared to waterbend at one point, but it is later revealed to have been simple airbending that pushed the water.

but morro doesn’t realize or know this until its too late. and when he does… its a shitshow.

basically, lloyd and morro are sent to meet with fire lord chen and his daughter skylor, along with wu, koko, and some of the other air sages. skylor is a chi blocker, an incredibly talented one who has mastered all of the different bending fighting styles even tho she herself is a nonbender.

ok so clouse is obviously there. he recognizes lloyd via koko and is fucking pissed. he’s like my ex-boyfriend rival’s son is here?? what the hell?? so he keeps a close on eye on lloyd bc he doesn’t like him. morro, meanwhile, is treated like a king at the palace bc chen wants to get into the avatar’s good graces.

and uh. well, as it turns out, morro isn’t the avatar…

they’re attacked by the serpentine, bitter at the bending masters for having locked them underground. morro is excellent at fighting, but lloyd has more adrenaline.

and lloyd firebends.

cue shock and horror and anger from all sides.

wu is the most horrified of all. the son of his brother… the man he banished… is the avatar?

so yeah thats the background AT LEAST. i dont really know what happens after that but lloyd runs away or something. i will write more i promise!!!

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now. 

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really. 

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them. 

God damn she’s a fucking idiot. 

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous. 

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.” 

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne. 

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented. 

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air… 

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before. 

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern. 

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?” 

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake. 

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation. 

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects. 

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate. 

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.” 

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints. 

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father. 

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss. 

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter. 

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye. 

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces. 

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin. 

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day. 

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards. 

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.” 

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden. 

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls. 

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns. 

A huge mistake. 

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.” 

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.” 

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.” 

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son. 

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?” 

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says. 

“Zoe?” 

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod. 

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head. 

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself. 

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her. 

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying. 

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.” 

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy. 

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy. 

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.” 

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet. 

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more. 

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too. 

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always. 

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident. 

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something? 

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s. 

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.” 

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest. 

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.” 

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry. 

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked. 

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--” 

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face. 

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.” 

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly. 

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up. 

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.” 

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees. 

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still. 

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover. 

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying. 

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.” 

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath. 

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth. 

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?” 

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.” 

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”   

She spins on her heels, and walks away. 

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.” 

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go. 

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.   

Her stomach rolls again. 

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.” 

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much. 

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him. 

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on. 

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.” 

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.” 

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says. 

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable. 

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.” 

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.” 

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays. 

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help. 

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall. 

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting. 

Two voices she knows intimately. 

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock. 

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again. 

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.” 

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less. 

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside. 

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly. 

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it. 

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not. 

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier. 

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again. 

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf. 

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying. 

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain. 

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully. 

Good. He’s gone. 

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick. 

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out. 

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror. 

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

[thefairyletters]

Could you answer this question? I went through a bunch of Sakura fics, many recommended by yourself (many good ones, thanks for your excellent taste!) but I also explored on my own, which is how this question spurred. I was wondering why so many ppl want Sakura to have wood release? &, because it's been a while so my memory's foggy, wasnt wood release sort of a bloodline thing? They had to infuse Hashirama's cells w/ Yamato for him to use it. It seems a little...I guess radical to give it to her? I LOVE Sakura, which is exactly why it kind of throws me off. I think she's already strong as is, & I think being able to utilize genjutsu & slug sage mode are logical expansions of her abilities, so wood release seems very...Idk how to put it but it seems like erasing Sakura. I'm discovering that I truly really dont think I like BAMF Sakura fics a lot bc it just doesnt read AS Sakura. It's like the author's are ashamed of her. Also I dislike when they use Strong!Sakura as a tag on ao3 bc she IS strong that HASNT changed & there's a canonical version of BAMF!Sakura in everything before the Pein arc. Everything after the Pein arc turned the entire series in a bad fanfiction for everyone in itself.

Thank you, I'm happy to know you enjoyed my recs!

That's a good question.

This is what I think makes Sakura badass ➡ here

I love Sakura the way she is, as well. Her development, however, is lacking not in terms of her personality but her skillset. She has impressive chakra control, monstrous strength and is one of the two frontline medics and one of the best healers in the world. She has impressive feats under her belt as well, two of the most remarkable include her byakugo seal and her fight with Sasori alongside Chiyo. But it pales in comparison to her teammates, including Sai and Kakashi. I don't mind that too, because her journey is different than others, excluding Lee and possibly Tenten. She isn't seen much involved in fights, her attacks are repetitive in the show, she isn't bestowed many techniques under her belt and her best moments are in games and novels. It is not her character's fault but Kishimoto who just doesn't use her strength and intelligence which he (and other characters) have mentioned she has.

She is genjutsu type – but has she ever performed one, or even gotten out of one easily? Whats the use of such information if Kishimoto doesn't use it?

She has near perfect chakra control – she should be easily able to perform many techniques and practice different elements, especially water, but earth style and cloning is what we mostly ever see her use.

She has good foundation in Taijutsu – and that should increase her stamina and therefore her chakra coils, and that in turn will ensure she is able to use many techniques.

Her medical and research skills are only next to Tsunade – and we wish to see her revolutionize the medical field which she has but in Borutoverse. That is time skip. That doesn't really relive you much.

She has resistance to mind jutsus, thanks to her inner personality – and theoretically she should be able to even evade strong genjutsus like she did Ino's clan technique (something never been done before) but Kishimoto only used that incredible ability once. ONCE.

She has massive chakra storage and exceptional chakra control and sensitivity – she should be able to master Senjutsu, a field which is all about chakra. Anything that has to do with chakra control is Sakura's playground.

She is more or less an unofficial poison expert – but we didn't see her playing with poison expertly (a poison that even Suna's poison experts failed to break) after Gaara's retrieval arc.

She is the smart and responsible one of team 7 – but Kishi often makes her look both stupid and selfish. We don't see her use her intelligence much. I hate that more than her lacking in the expansion of the skills.

She trained under a political leader – that itself makes her and Shizune great administrators and governors. So, out of everyone, Sakura is the one of the best Hokage material. Hokage is said to be the strongest fighter of the village but that requirement failed us when Tsunade became the fifth Hokage.

She has yin seal – the strongest seals one can make, in their own body no less. It also shows her expert control of her chakra. She can summon one of the big 3 summons. Sealing is more or less code that requires high intelligence and great chakra control that can be fused into the ink. As far as I can tell, she is one of the best candidates to learn Fuinjutsu.

With all these possibilities of her growth – because it is not something we make up but something Kishi has implied she has but never explored – how can one not exploit it? It doesn't mean one doesn't love Sakura for who she is but that its because they love her that they want to give her what she has the right to. She doesn't have to be expert at something to be powerful, just her putting her skills to best use is admirable as it is. I love Sakura for who she is and who she could be.

Now, onto the question as to why people seem to favour giving Sakura wood release, this are the following reasons that I think could be it:

Does it have to be bloodline limit?

Kishimoto gave Hashirama a unique bloodline limit that apparently cannot be inherited by any other Senju. That defeats the purpose of bloodline limit. What makes Senju clan so different? Without Hashirama in the picture, you cannot distinctly identify a Senju clan member aside from their strong chakras. Tobirama is identified for his water techniques. Tsunade has perfect control of her chakra that allowed her to exhibit monstrous strength and incredible healing abilities. How come wood release is a bloodline limit but is not passed down the line?

It is complicated because Tsunade is also renowned for her perfect chakra control just like Hashirama. So, some stories make Sakura a secret Senju clan member because of her uncanny resemblance to Tsunade and Senju clan in general. Pink hair can be a diluted version of Red (Mito) and her chakra control originating directly from Hashirama's lineage.

I personally don't like this because I love Sakura being a civilian child.

It's not a bloodline limit:

So, assuming wood release is not a bloodlimit but a very hard technique requiring precise chakra control and mastery of dual elements Earth and Water, then it is possible for Sakura to practice same technique because of her prodigious chakra control. By that logic, we can also assume that Tenzo inherited Hashirama's unique chakra control to use wood release. Because Orochimaru could have used Tsunade's DNA too if it was only about clan blood. So that rules out bloodline limit.

I love the idea of Sakura practising wood release because it is possible for her to do so. So if an author gives Sakura wood release that she hones with practice and control (ref. fanfic: Labyrinthine) instead of having been gifted with it, I'm digging it.

Nature chooses the wood user:

Naruto universe has many references to spiritual entities such as gods/goddesses, reincarnation and celestial bodies. It is conceivable to make nature an ethereal entity that has its own will. Sakura looks like the embodiment of spring with her petal hair and green eyes, and Hashirama can be compared to wood with his warm personality and appearance, these attributes can make them look distinctly attractive to nature. No other characters remind me strongly of nature than these two so I suppose they can be uniquely selected to be blessed this ability. Tenzo's abilities is the result of human experiment by Orochimaru who always cheats on nature so he is an exception.

I only like this because I like the idea of Sakura being Nature's child.

Most stories that I love don't give her a special edge and only give her more techniques under her arsenal. It is very rarely that I love an OCC Sakura who has a bloodline, a clan or godlike abilities.

After Pein's arc, Naruto turned into a joke. Everyone in team 7 (barring Sakura, Sai and Yamato) and long list of antagonists seemed to get power ups left and right. Sakura got hers in the last moment as a last ditch effort to reunite team 7 as one, a moment that felt so hasty that I couldn't take the show seriously at all. I was so disappointed with the whole war arc. I cringe just thinking about it. I sometimes think if it would have been better for everyone to just die with happily ever after in their mind. That would be tragic but a fitting end because Madara became too OP and Kaguya ridiculously so.

The reason people add 'Strong', 'BAMF', 'Smart' prefixes before Sakura is the reason why people add extra qualities to Sakura's character. They are not satisfied with how Sakura handles herself in fights and many base her fights with the one she had with Sasori. After that, did you see her actively participating in any major fight, barring her attempts to make a score on sidelines? Usually, these fanfictions also justify why she is Tsunade 2.0, something the Naruto failed to show.

By the way, many stories have BAMF tag for Shikamaru, Naruto and Sasuke as well. Are they not already strong af? They don't use Strong tag for them though, and that's because their fighting prowess is already seen. Shikamaru is not much of a fighter as much as he is a strategist and a leader. He is a cool and sly character. Naruto and Sasuke have flashy moves with flashy names under their belt with absurd power levels that puts them in god tier. Sakura has none of that – no signature move that is uniquely her, no clan to back her, no move with a name (barring game moves) – and she is seen useless because she is a healer which is a non-offensive, background job even if it is the most crucial and taxing job. It's significance is even more reduced when people point out how her work is futile because they are again sent to the fight/missions once they are up to go. Most fans only care for visual aesthetics, regardless of how rare and in-demand medics are because of the lack of qualified people who can muster and use medical chakra properly.

Sakura is more than just a healer but in canon she is more or less reduced to that. To make things worse for her, both Ino and Hinata are also shown to have healing techniques. They both also have clan techniques (vastly unknown) with them which makes them appear more 'useful'. Sakura is literally in the shadow of her mentor and her friends.

In Boruto, she is said to be the most powerful Kunoichi of her generation and quite possibly the greatest medic in the world but in Shippuden it is severely undermined. This is also why Boruto fans love Sakura but a bunch of Shippuden fans don't.

I mostly don't judge BAMF/Strong Sakura fanfictions, but I mostly avoid Anbu Sakura fanfictions if I can because I personally don't belive Sakura to be an Anbu material.

.

I want to add more, but I think I got my point across. Thank you for reading this far. I hope I answered your question adequately.

[ellemany]

A Valorant dreamcast that nobody asked for Pt.4

... And the final part ;-; (Unless Riot make more agents and i feel the obligation of keep going with this :D )

Check out the other parts too! Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3

Remember, just because these are the last agents doesn’t mean i love them less  ♡ ´･ᴗ･ `♡

Yes, this is what makes me sleep at night

Killjoy

Our G-G-G-G-Genius!

Sorry i stop ;-;

I love Killjoy’s accent in both english and portuguese dubs, i really wanted to keep this some way in my dreamcast

But, again, i didn’t found any German Actress that i like for her ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So i just go with my heart again

Claudia Jesse

Yeah, Eloise Bridgerton. I hope Claudia can make a good German accent cause she can be insightful as Killjoy

And her with glasses is perfect. Seems a good excuse for casting her.

Breach

At this point, i’m like, who cares about nationality? I want a hot Breach!

Gwilym Pugh

Yeah, for this Breach, i’m off my feet  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Kay/O

The beginning of all my problems

Just like Cypher, i choose Kay/O actor based mostly in fanarts

There was an specific artist on tumblr that i loved the way that portraited humanized K, but i don’t remember who was ;-; if you are there, know that i love your art!

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II

I probably wouldn’t hate Kay/O so much if he has this smile :3

Omen

I want to hug Omen! He knits and is sad! Someone give a hug to him! Cypher, Sova, Viper, Sage, anyone! Please! ;-;

He has the same problem from Kay/O and Cypher

In the fanarts, he is mostly represented as a blue eyed and dark haired cute guy

Joshua Anthony Brand

Anyone who ever made a dreamcast know this face. Just like Thanos, this man is inevitable.

But i think this is so generic... (Says the person which her favorite agent is the main white boi)

I considered put Choi Si-won, Michael B. Jordan or Imran Abbas for being Omen. They all are hot good choices for me.

However, i was in dentist other day and there was What Happened To Monday in the TV. (Good movie for a lazy afternoon, btw) And Monday’s boyfriend appears on the screen and i say “Yes, with this abs, you will be my Omen”

Marwan Kenzari

He is in The Old Guard too. I think he would work well as Omen.

That’s all! :D

I’m Kidding! You will have to deal with me more!  ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ...

BONUS TIME!

Considering that my fiction movie just exist with the agents released till the day that i ended this dreamcast, i will add some new cast with the time. But, Riot is almost launching Deadeye in the game.

I HATE YOU I LOVE YOU I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU DON’T WANT TO BUT I CAN’T PUT NOBODY ELSE ABOVE YOU!

Yeah, that is basic my relation with this man. And i don’t even know him yet.

For now, he works like a special guest for me. A sassy bitch special guest.

Timothée Chalamet

Choose him cause he is half French? Yes. He can be a sassy bitch? More like a depressed one, but we can work with this.

Honestly, he is just here for my imaginary audience be like:

DEADEYE IS HERE!!

Btw, as we are talking about special guests and Leonardo Di Caprio, why not putting him too? As the employee of the month, Paul.

Good Job, Paul! :3

And our Paul would be all this time Leonardo Di Caprio. Idk, but seems fun to me!

Random Fun Fact: Daniel Craig is a Stormtrooper in Star Wars: The Force Awakens. He was working in a movie in a studio close from the Star Wars one and asked for appearing. In my head, the same happened here with Leo.

And, just for the meme, what if the Voice Lady be actually...

Cardi B

I will let you imagine the way that she would say “ACE” for you. I would pay for this

Okay, that’s the real end now!

Hope you enjoyed it!

Love!  (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

Bye Bye

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 1! Reader's job has no chill and Wanda means well (Tony does too), but, as we know, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Reader discovers the source of some peculiar things and can't help but be overcome with curiosity. F-bombs galore!

Fun fact: this story's main soundtrack is Claire de Lune, for some reason. Usually I can't stand classical music.

I didn't anticipate my first day at the bodega to be remarkful in any way but I was quickly proven wrong. My expectations were low: few customers, some of them flat-earthers of the garden variety, perhaps one or two of those 'witches' from social media blogging platforms and an overzealous Satanist or two, since I was pretty sure I saw an Ouija board and a silver pentagram hanging in Odette's office on the day of the interview.

Boy was I wrong.

We averaged a customer every fifteen minutes with each person requesting increasingly strange items: healing quartz and sage were on the closer end of normal; I felt like I had teleported to Hogwarts and was now attending Professor Snape's Advanced Potions class, having to race between the high shelves and memorize the exact location of each and every ingredient. In the end, I sacrificed a few dollars and bought one of the beautiful, leather-bound notebooks off Odette to write down the shelf and position number for the most commonly requested items and planned to begin memorizing them at home.

There's a little bit of Ravenclaw in all of us, I supposed. My curiosity only extended further: sometimes, a haggard looking person would come up and declare they had an appointment with Odette and was quickly whisked away by my boss to her office, coming out looking slightly less haggard in about half an hour or so.

I adapted to the routine fairly quickly, choosing to make my personal peace with the strange customers and Odette's mysterious meetings: after all, I got the job because I needed money - who was I to judge her for doing Tarot readings and spiritual séances for an extra dollar?

The bodega's atmosphere did grow on me rather quickly, as I had thought it would. It was warm and homely even on the rainiest afternoons, there was an unlimited supply of herbal tea, free of charge, and I grew to appreciate it just like I learned to find the positives in my job at the café. That remained a constant, mildly interesting affair too - my regulars, especially the superheroes, had started coming in during the morning hours and we were able to resume our chit-chats without a hitch.

Wanda still fished for my most recent, memorable reading and Dr. Banner left his incomprehensible scribbles on every napkin within an arm's reach for me to return to him on his next visit. The fully grown man with multiple PhDs didn't fail to blush like a schoolgirl every single time it happened, causing Mr. Stark to double on his own salacious jokes, should the engineer have had come with. They often came together, blabbering things I couldn't even fathom understanding even with the help of Google.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Wanda sounded surprisingly chipper for it was freaking seven in the morning.

I blanched, banging my arm against the display door painfully with a softly muttered, "Fuck!".

The witch frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered, hoping my face wasn't portraying the mixture of confusion and fear that I felt. "Something weird happened at my other job yesterday, I'm still processing," I replied honestly, looking to the side.

In fairness, I didn't know what to think. The situation wasn't something that should have shocked me, with aliens and magic people an abundance in NYC, but seeing it with my own two eyes had been jarring.

A limping, paranoid young man had arrived for an appointment with Odette shortly before closing time; I had escorted him to her office without as much as a blink, only noticing he was dripping oddly colored blood when the door behind him had closed. I cleaned it up, dead set on confronting Odette about the obviously injured person - the blood, it was more of an attempt to clean it, since it merely stuck to the rag, refusing to wash off it with water or any of the organic cleaning solutions kept under the sink.

I had to leave the rag in a paper bag, acutely aware of the fact it could not have belonged to a normal person. My best guess was that a man was a mutant - NYC had plenty of them living behind a blue wall. Odette's office wasn't soundproof: I heard a pained yelp and then a vocalisation of relief as whatever was causing the man to bleed had been removed. In a few minutes while I was closing the cash register, he came out looking almost brand new - and as I paid him a more careful look, he was missing his scleras, leaving his eyes to look slightly terrifying.

And then he winked at me, a surprisingly human, boyish gesture - the smile that crawled up my face was purely automatic. I was sure it looked frozen. He disappeared without a word as Odette herself emerged from the backrooms, a tired sheen to her brow.

"Did you manage to clean up?" She asked, eyebrows raised at the lack of stains on the hardwood floors.

"It stuck to the rag," I replied, eyeing her warily. "The rag is in the unmarked bag next to the sink. I didn't know what else to do with it."

"Sometimes it does that," her sigh was very telling. This was to be expected to become a regular occurrence. She motioned for the notebook I got to keep track of everything in the store, rattling off a recipe for a cleaner and solvent combo, made purely from the items she had inside the store, giving me stern instructions to add the ingredients in the exact order I was told. I sighed but added the footnote. Odette was a far cry from the greasy git from Hogwarts so she deserved the benefit of the doubt at least.

I didn't dare to ask any more questions about the strange man; not that day, not after I had suprised Wanda with a quick recap of my story. It's not like I had anything against mutants - as long as they were peaceful and didn't harm humans with their abilities, I was content to co-habit, share my space and even be friends with them. A very nice old lady who came by three times a week had gills peeking out of the top of her turtleneck and she was just the most polite, sweetest thing.

Wanda's curiosity was understandable and not suspicious in any way: I was under the impression she was a mutant, too, along with her twin brother - so the feeling of dread that blossomed within me as soon as the two suited figures entered the small store I attributed to the larger size of the man and vulture eyes of the woman. They both appeared extremely out of place with their black two-pieces and badly hidden pistol holsters, topped off with badges I couldn't take a good look at without losing my customer service facade.

I decided to play it dumb, self-conscious of the thudding of my heart in my ribcage. My body screamed 'danger' at me. "Hello, how can I help you?"

The woman cast an observant look over me, my plain clothes, lingering on my star-patterned scarf and matching hair band. "Are you the owner of this store?"

"No," I frowned, not liking where this was going. "Do you have an appointment with Odette?"

"We'd like to see her," the man pointedly moved his arm, exposing the gun and the badge.

I dropped the nice act, staring him down in earnest. I never liked self-righteous, pushy government officials; even less so, when they didn't follow protocol and started the conversation with demands instead of proper introductions. As I shot a quick text to Odette, noting that there were 'strange people in uniform' looking for her, my suspicions were only confirmed when the woman looked around the store with eyes that knew what they were looking for. Those two definitely weren't cops or even feds, they were straight up shady.

Odette all but flew to the bodega, the imposing, suffocating aura I'd seen only once on full display. It was hard to breathe standing so close to her; with muted satisfaction, I noticed both agents squirm, their fingers twitching, as they took in shuddering inhales through their, undoubtedly, lying mouths.

The whole spectacle was over quickly. I had managed to serve and quickly usher out Ike, one of the Satanists (yes, we did, in fact, have a few of those as regulars) with his paper bag full of powdered goat horn and a fresh cat skull under his armpit before the curtains parted and the two agents left without saying a word. I thought their eyes looked - wrong, like glass marbles, dull, lifeless and unseeing.

Odette dismissed my worries with a frivolously waved hand: "They won't be bothering us anytime soon," closing the door to her office - it reeked of strong incense and horseradish, for some reason. Like she'd been making some hell salad in front of the two nosy officials.

I took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. The weirdness should've bothered me more, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to decide whether I wanted to know what that interaction was actually about or live in blissful ignorance, where my boss might be some sort of a mutant or an actual witch that helps other mutants.

The longer I thought about it, the louder anti-mutant propaganda articles screamed at me: children being killed or abandoned because one day, they woke up and could fly or move things with their mind; every potential situation could end up like Carrie or Brightburn - two movies so blatantly obvious in their point to instill fear against children that could grow to work alongside Earth's Mightiest Defenders.

Needless to say, my conscious calmed down pretty quickly. I had felt the hairs on my nape stand up as soon as the agents entered the room and in my experience, a reaction like that was never good. I had been taught to trust my gut.

Odette had cancelled her visits for the day, holing up in her office as the whole store rapidly filled up with the stench of horseradish, old blood and sage. The occasional noise came from the office, interrupted by mumbling, and I was quickly told to just turn up the old, vintage radio if it bothered me.

I was too busy taking in the contents of her office - the table that previously stood in the far end of it, stood in the middle, folded out into the shape of a circle. Something was drawn on it, something the color of dried blood, and there were light candles, white and blue, littered on almost every possible surface. The air was clouded with incense smoke, so thick, it made my eyes water.

Odette's grin was sardonic as she met my eyes, wide and shocked, that had previously landed on what looked like a pot- or a cauldron, emanating the strongest bitter stench that wafted even through the lead curtain of incense. No wonder the whole store reeked.

Before she gently shut the door in my face, I caught the centerfold of the whole show - an extremely large, tattered, leatherbound tome with yellowed pages and a heavy metal padlock laying next to it. Overcome by stupor, I didn't manage to make out the intricate silver letters on its cover.

Needless to say, walking home that day was an adventure. In part, I was cautious that the agents would find me, follow me home, interrogate me - I've never been arrested even by usual cops and it was unlikely that shady government agencies were delicate in their approach. A larger part of my brain was wondering about the implications of what I had seen, I'd nearly chewed off my fingernails remembering the vacant, lost face expressions on the agents' faces.

As soon as I got home, I set to do some serious googling. And find information, I did. Plethora of minor details - candle colors, herbs used, deeply individual incantations and mythical deities that chose to work with a particular witch. It was nothing short of a whole science; I'd go as far as to say it was a complete lifestyle. The use of magick bled into every aspect of daily life, from sleep to food to communication with others.

Part of me felt incredulity at the implication of sacrificing so much to get results that might be the opposite of the ones desired. A larger, braver part of me - the very same that used to push me to explore abandoned buildings with my friends and drink booze given by a stranger - admired the work and the dedication my boss and her kind put into their work.

Having received my first paycheck and successfully having made it through rent day without having to make excuses, my conscious allowed me to treat myself to a few items - I decided to give into my curiosity and placed an order for a few books on modern witchcraft, happily waiting for the package to arrive next afternoon. I went to sleep with my head full and a new world at my feet to explore.

The books were late - or more like, never showed. The refund couldn't come soon enough. My curiosity began to reach unbearable levels the longer I worked the front desk at Odette's. These days I didn't need much assistance anymore, ready to help any new or returning customer with the help of my notebook. Time after time, I noticed a certain working order, a pattern to things if you may - and was able to recommend a few things here and there. In short, I stepped over my initial apprehension and dove into the world of natural remedies and energetic manipulation headfirst.

It made all the sense that Odette would start to take absence from the bodega as my training progressed. On the days she had fewer or no appointments, she would don her favourite scarf and trot out the front door, large purse in tow, to run errands or restock on the rare, pricy items that couldn't get delivered directly to the shop. I'd grown accustomed to locking up on my own; the spare key to the entrance door was my pride and joy, the dull silver a warm comfort hanging on a chain around my neck. Its antique design made a fairly pretty necklace.

The customer coming to pick up a special order hardly disrupted my time. I had Janis Joplin blaring from the old radio, my skirt swayed to the rhythm of the song together with me. The elevated mood while working in the shop was something I appreciated fully - with a kind smile, I departed for the backrooms to search for the package with the customer's name, not finding it anywhere near the proper place. A call later, I was opening Odette's office and extracting the paper-wrapped shoebox from the fridge, passing it into the customer's arms with utmost care: 'FRAGILE. KEEP REFRIGERATED AT ALL TIMES.' read on it in Odette's sharp cursive.

The bell above the door rang as the woman departed but I was already inching behind the curtain, overcome by sudden inquisitiveness.

The book. It stood right in the middle of Odette's desk, shut, but missing its padlock, beckoning with the thick gothic letters spelling out 'PRACTICAL ALCHEMY'. I noticed it as soon as I stepped into the office, confused and puzzled by my own unbearable desire to approach it immediately. I knew something was amiss, yet, my legs had a mind of their own and my hands firmly placed themselves upon the heavy cover of the book, seemingly without the input from my brain.

"What the hell..." I muttered to myself, finding the books contents to be - for the lack of a better word - peculiar. "Protect a babe born on all Hallows Eve..." I numbly mouthed the first words that my eyes registered. The pages made a soft noise as my shaking fingers turned them, one after the other. "Bestow healing upon a barren womb... Punish a thief..." There were - spells, and potions, and so many plants I've never even heard about before.

The pages turned and handwritings changed - at the start, words were written out precisely, the cursive neat and sharp, obviously written by an ink pen. Some things were scribbles, pencil or charcoal, so barely intelligible I had to guess about a third of the words written. Towards the end of the book pages made with a typewriter appeared - blocky letters and numbers, language modern, ash and cigarette smell coming from the paper.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The longer my hands touched the pages, the stronger the tingling sensation became - I failed to notice it at first, attributing it to the exhilaration of finding something so strange yet so precious, but as I was finishing a page that contained a fairly short spell for protection of a witches' home, the discomfort of my palms rose into a mild stinging pain.

"Fuck," I yelped, casting a look at my fingers. They were hot, angry, as if I had briefly touched boiling oil - and the skin on my fingertips began to blister, little white pustules forming where I had gingerly held the pages of the book in place. "What the fuck?" Was my reasonable question to nobody in particular.

The books contents were, no doubt, interesting but I was more concerned with the state of my hands - had I ignored the pain for five more minutes, I might have had to go to the hospital to treat what was beginning to look like a second-degree burn. I slammed it shut none-too-gently, placing it exactly as I found it and winced when barely a second of touching it brought on more excruciating pain.

The healing peppermint oil salve I knew people bought for mild burns only soothed the initial sting, so I had to suffer until I clocked out, stopping by a drugstore on my way home to purchase some much-needed burn cream. And while it didn't make it worse, I knew that my next day at work was going to be Hell.

Most thankful, however, I was to my voice-to-text option on my cell. Not only it allowed me to communicate with my friends without hurting my abused skin even more, but it also dutifully saved the short, simple spell that was supposed to protect my house. There was no harm in trying it, I supposed, after seeing what I didn't doubt was the book's own protection wreak havoc on my snoopy little hands.

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