#so now meteorite is going to be three chapters

[ramblebramblefun]

Bakugou Katsuki lived his life by a scorched earth policy. He left all his bridges burning behind him on his way to the top, and now that he’s there, he’s eyeing a long, long fall.

Because the thing about being at the top is that there is nowhere to go but down.

Down, down, down, like the rest of his graduating class. Within the span of five years, death, forced retirement and what had to be a fucking manufactured scandal have all but eradicated the heroes that Ground Zero graduated with.

The reporters keep asking him to make a fucking comment but Ground Zero never lets them finish the question.

Time goes on.

The top ten empties, refills. Rearranges itself and plays the system. Fucks around and finds out.

Katsuki still doesn't watch the news, but he takes to searching up the names of his old classmates to see what's become of them.

There's fewer and fewer names to check on, and if it were any other class an investigation would be opened into the attrition rate but fuck 3-A, right?

It’s got to be a fucking conspiracy.

It's just him and Freezerburn left soon, the latter still sitting pretty at number five and like hell is anybody that consistent.

Being number one is easy. You just have to be better than the next guy.

Being number five exactly for multiple years running, on the other hand, is some kind of bullshit. Like hell is Todoroki consistently both outperforming whoever’s number six and underperforming number four. The extras in those positions are always changing, you’d need some kind of spreadsheet keeping track of everyone’s strengths and weaknesses in order to calculate their-

Not that Katsuki fucking cares about Todoroki’s theoretical statistical analyses of his opponents. Or the stuck-up bastard himself. Todoroki can go to hell.

He used to want to be number one, too. Didn’t matter if it was just to prove a point to his old man, he used to have ambition.

Frezzerburn’s refusal to advance beyond fifth place had certainly seemed to drive the man that was Endeavour mad. That was a kind of winning, Katsuki had supposed. Problem is, Todoroki kept that shit up even after his old man kicked the bucket and he didn't need to be mediocre any more.

Katsuki had been hoping for a real rival, once Endeavour was in the ground. Drove him mad when he didn't get it. PR team reamed him out for that one, but fucking-

They don’t get it. No one fucking gets it.

Bakugou Katsuki keeps watch at the top of his fortress year on year, but not one hero comes to challenge him. He watches them all squabble at the base for the number two spot instead, talking shit like second place means a goddamned thing.

Fuckers. At least Endeavour fucking tried.

Freezerburn, son of the man who never gave up, does not. Try, that is. The fucking bastard.

Doesn't even put up a fight now that Katsuki’s out of the running.

Because Katsuki’s out of the running. He’s not a fucking hero anymore. He’s out. He’s done. Not by fucking choice, but them’s the fucking breaks when you blow the fucking whistle.

Turns out there really was a conspiracy against class 3-A.

[annlyticalarchive]

CHAPTER TWO: Normal Routine For a Normal Night For a Normal Person

”You will be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone”

Mark Grayson X Kryptonian/Clark Kent! Reader

Prologue | Chapter One| Chapter Two (Here) | Chapter Three

w/c: 2.1k

c/w: None

a/n: thinking of cross posting this onto ao3. Maybe where tumblr will have shorter but more frequent updates and ao3 I’ll combine multiple tumblr chapters into one bigger but slower ao3 updates

“I—uhm, I’m—I’m sorry, but I think you have the… the wrong person,” you stammer, giving the man the most polite, nervous smile you can muster as you jab your finger against the apartment buzzer.

Nothing.

No buzz. No ring.

You press it again. Then again. And again.

Still nothing.

Just silence.

A heavy silence that feels like it’s folding in on itself.

Then he says your name.

Your full name.

“Grew up in Smallville, Kansas,” he continues, voice maddeningly casual. “Played on your little league teams. Quiet life. Pretty impressive GPA, too. Unfortunately, that’s about all we could find. Seems the people out there don’t talk as much as you'd expect.”

You don’t say anything.

He doesn’t need you to.

“But that doesn’t hide the atmospheric rupture our satellites picked up seventeen years ago. Complete with a unique bio-signature. Doesn’t hide the so-called ‘meteorite’ crash landing in Kansas that same night.”

Your breath catches for a second but you don’t let it show.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” you say, sharper this time. Firmer than you meant. The words snap out too fast, too defensive.

His smile doesn’t change. But his eyes change. No more forced casualness, just cold and calculated.

“You're not the first person to try hiding in plain sight,” he says, like he’s reassuring you. Like this is normal. “The problem is, plain sight only works until you let our cameras and scanners pick you up while your saving civilians from a collapsing building during a high-profile prison break.”

Your stomach turns cold.

He saw you. Or someone did. And he’s here now.

“I don’t know what you think you saw—”

“Don’t insult either of us,” he cuts in flatly. “You’re faster than nearly anyone we’ve ever recorded. Stronger too. We also have evidence of enhanced senses. You’re not just some garden variety enhanced human.”

He takes a slow step closer, hands still in his pockets but that doesn’t help you feel at ease. If anything it makes you feel more uneasy.

“We know you're not from here.”

You flinch, barely, but enough.

“So, I’ll ask one more time,” he says, almost gently. “What. Are. You?”

“If you already know so much about me,” you say, frowning as your fingers tighten around the door handle, “then I’m sure you can figure it out yourself.”

You push. Not hard, just enough for the lock mechanism to crunch and give way beneath your hand like damp cardboard.

“I go about my day. I help people. I stay out of people’s way,” you continue, stepping inside the building. “And no offense, sir, but maybe you should do the same. It’s common courtesy to stay in your own business, isn’t it? Good night.”

You don’t wait for a response, walking and shutting the door on the man before another retort could be made.

The door creaks open, and you have to push it all the way closed behind you with a quiet grunt. You’ll leave a voicemail for the building manager later about the lock. Maybe you’ll just offer to help fix it like usual. It wouldn’t be the first time you broke a door, although most times were accidents.

You head upstairs.

“Hey, Pa!” you call out as you unlock and step into the small apartment you share with your dad.

From the kitchen, you hear rustling, then see him knelt near the oven window, hands on his knees, eyes laser-focused on dinner like it might sneak out if he looks away.“In here, kiddo!” he shouts without turning around. “Casserole tonight, your ma’s recipe!”

You grin, dropping your bag by the door. Just hearing that is enough to make your stomach rumble. That casserole could fix almost anything. It could probably solve world peace if given the chance. Bad days, broken hearts, near-existential dread, nothing that’s happened to you wasn’t made better by your Ma’s recipes. So, you start setting out plates while the kitchen fills with the comforting scent of melted cheese, seasoning, and the warmth that emanates from the kitchen.

Pa’s crouched by the oven, peeking in with the intensity of a scientist monitoring a critical experiment. Your Ma cooked by feel and instinct, but your Pa? He follows her recipe like gospel. Timer set to the second. Ingredients measured with surgical precision.

The rhythm of home kicks in, quiet and familiar like a well-worn record. The old kind that crackle with warmth.

You and Pa eat together at the small kitchen table with mismatched chairs, the same ones he’s had since before you were born. Ma insisted you take some furniture from home to the city. Said it’d help it feel more like a home and not a show room. She was right like always.

The casserole’s was warm and fresh, filling your stomach with that unmistakably delicious blend of cheese, herbs, and pure comfort. He serves you a second helping without asking, and you take it without protest. It tastes like memory.

Conversation flows in the way it always does. Easy and a little scattered. You both recount your days, interrupting each other here and there. He tells you about the grumpy neighbor who still can’t work the elevator key, and you tell him about Lois nearly getting into a shouting match with a security guard outside a courthouse.

You remind him of his appointments for tomorrow, his physical therapy and that follow-up with Dr. Kim. He waves it off like he always does, but thanks you anyway. Then he asks if Jimmy finally remembered to charge his camera battery before a shoot.

You grin, already laughing. “He says he did. But he also said that last time.” Pa chuckles, the sound deep and warm, and for a few minutes, it’s easy to pretend nothing in the world is complicated. “He’s a fantastic photographer though. He might forget to charge it, but they’re always masterpieces.”

After dinner, the two of you take your time cleaning up. Pa washes, you dry, and everything finds its way back into place. There’s a quiet pride in the routine, something grounding in the repetition. It’s not exciting. But it’s home. Or as home it can be without Ma with you two.

When the last dish is put away and the kitchen is once again spotless, you part ways.

Pa heads to the living room to call Ma. You could hear his voice drifting from the anywhere in the apartment, soft and low, always starting with “Hey, sweetheart,” just like he did when she lived here with you. He still uses the landline, holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek while he talks about the day as if she were just down the road and not a few states away. You hear the low murmur of his voice as you pass by. Sometimes it feels like he talks longer when he knows you’re listening. Cause you could hear Ma’s soft voice crackle through the phone’s speaker.

After the call, he sinks into his recliner with a soft grunt and turns on his favorite black-and-white crime dramas. The kind with grainy film, dramatic narration, and stiff dialogue that he insists has more heart than anything on TV today.

Sometimes you join him, curling up on the couch with a blanket, quietly watching as detectives in fedoras chase shadows through foggy alleys. You’ve seen most of the episodes by now, not because you love them, but because he does. Every so often, he’ll glance over and explain a plot twist before it happens like he could make the twist more surprising if he told you each and every detail it contained.

However, you just usually go around, tidying up the living room, folding the laundry you left out, putting away the mail he keeps forgetting to open.

But more often than you join Pa watching his shows for a little while, then you slip away into your room.

There, you read.

Not just for pleasure, but for quiet. For peace. Your shelves are cluttered with paperbacks, science fiction, history, mysteries, even a few battered fantasy books with cracked spines. You alternate between them and the stack of news briefs you collect during the week. Digital clippings from online publications. Sometimes actual video interviews Lois sends your way with subject lines like “Thought you’d like this” or “Look at this sentence structure. Perfection.”

Sometimes it’s articles on journalism. Sometimes it’s old unsolved mysteries that the two of you would theorize about. Sometimes it’s just good writing.

Whatever the reason, you read it all. Cause Lois sent it to you.

You’d text Jimmy as he’d send you previews of the photos he’d taken throughout the day. Text and call Mark, most of which recently go unanswered, but you leave a voicemail to try to plan a hangout anyway.

It’s your way of listening to the world without having to be in it.

And as the hours slip by, the quiet of the apartment becomes a cocoon. One that wraps around you, keeping the chaos of the day, and that man’s voice, at bay, at least for a little while.

Eventually, the apartment settles.

And sleeps.

And dreams.

But tonight, sleep brings you no peace. Only what you can barely call a dream.

A nightmare.

A memory.

A series of them, stitched together by fear.

You’re little. Seven? Maybe six. The memory doesn’t care and you couldn’t find it in you to truly care either.

You’re standing in the middle of your family's barn, clutching a rusted pitchfork that snapped in half just from your grip. Your hands are shaking. Your mother’s voice is calling your name, soft and sweet, but laced with something that makes your chest ache, caution.

You remember crying. Begging her not to be scared.

She said she wasn’t. But she was, at least a little. You could always tell.

You remember the feeling, even though you were only probably eight. That first terrifying moment you jumped from the tire swing and didn’t fall.

You floated.

Just hung there. Legs dangling. Hair in your face. Time stopped.

You remember calling for your parents, crying when they came running. You didn’t mean to do it. You didn’t want to be different. You just were.

Now you’re older. Nine. Sitting in your room simply glaring at the math homework that had been seemingly taunting you, that’s when it happened. The smell of burnt books and scorched wood still stings your nose even in the dream. You screamed back then, not because of the fire, but because you didn’t even understand what you did.

Your dad burst in and stomped out the flames, his work gloves barely enough to keep from burning his hands.

You’d looked up at him and whispered, “I didn’t mean to.”

Because you hadn’t. You were just angry. You hadn’t even touched it, you just looked at it! But it happened anyway.

He smiled anyway. Hugged you tight.

But you saw it. You always saw it.

Fear. Just a flicker of it. But it was there.

Another time. You’re older now, maybe ten. You could hear the neighbor’s dog barking. There’s a storm outside, and something scares you—a sudden crack of thunder.

Your breath leaves your lungs with a gasp, cold and sharp. Frost spreads across the windowpane in front of you. Not fog. Ice. The glass crackles under it.

Your Ma gasps. Your Pa takes a cautious step forward. “It’s okay, honey,” he says, grabbing you by the shoulders as he pulls you deeper in the home. But his grip was too tight to be considered relaxed.

You’re in the barn. Twelve years old now.

It’s dark, except for the lantern light.

Your parents stand beside something large, half-covered by tarp and hay. Your Ma doesn’t say anything. Your Pa just sighs and pulls the tarp back.

The thing under it hums.

Metal. Organic in an odd, horrifying way. Something in between. A pod. A ship. But wrong, somehow. Bigger than what your parents’ remembered.

Like it grew with you.

You step closer. And it shifts. Not mechanically, but alive. Like it’s waking up.

You stumble back, heart pounding as it glowed. You want to scream, but nothing comes out.

Your mother kneels, cupping your face with her hands. Her voice soft and warm.

“This is how you came to us, sweetheart. We don’t know why, or how. But it doesn’t matter. You’re ours.”

Your Pa nods. “We love you, no matter what.”

But your gaze is locked on the pod.

And it’s still glowing.

You wake up gasping.

Sweat clings to your skin. Your blanket's twisted, half on the floor.

Your hands are shaking.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, what year it is, who you are.

The pod isn’t here. Your parents aren’t afraid of you anymore.

You’re not a kid.

But that feeling? That sharp, hollow fear that you don’t belong, that you never did?

Yeah. That stuck with you.

Just like that man’s words.

"What are you?"

Cause how could you answer a question that you didn’t even know the answer yourself?

[demigod-shenanigans]

The choiceless hope in grief (chapter three)

They waited until nighttime to hold the funeral, both because Jason had liked looking at the stars and because that posed less opportunity for the neighbors to wonder why the strange family that had just moved here was burning tie-dye bedsheets in the yard in the middle of the day. Tristan didn’t ask exactly what it was they were doing. After a few weeks with them, he was probably used to their antics. It was a nice night—not too warm, but also not super cold. The sky was clear and beautiful. Leo’s heart was too heavy to enjoy any of it. With a gulp, he walked up to the unlit campfire, spreading the bedsheet across it with Piper. They had to keep it partially folded so it fit into their makeshift fire pit—the purpose of this wasn’t to accidentally burn down half of Tahlequah. Piper let go of the shroud and stepped back, nodding to him. Leo gulped. Right. He was supposed to light the shroud on fire.  If the deceased didn’t have a partner, it was camp tradition for their closest friend to do final honors. Despite all of Leo’s faults, that was him. Besides, he was the one with the fire powers. He was the obvious choice. This was supposed to be his job, and his burden.  He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Rating: Teen and Up

Chapter Word Count: 3.6k

CW: Themes of grief. (This is a funeral chapter, so, that should perhaps be obvious, lol) First | < Prev | Next >

———

Chapter 3: Festus torches a bedsheet

Leo and Piper picked out a simple white bedsheet to use for the shroud. It wasn’t fancy, but it was easily available and they made the most of it.

They tie-dyed it, both of them ending up with splotches of purple and orange all over their arms and clothes in the process.

Once the bedsheet was dry, they spent a whole afternoon stitching—and, quite frankly, doing a terrible job. They were both utter garbage at it. Hopefully, “it’s the thought that counts” still applied with dead best friends.

There was something kind of comforting about just sitting with Piper, working in silence on different ends of the same piece of fabric. In knowing that, if nothing else, Leo could at least do this for her.

“Jason would have loved this,” Piper sniffled when they inspected the final product.

“You think so?” Leo asked, building up to an entirely misplaced joke so he didn’t split open right there. “Personally, I’m not sure. He was such a stickler for rules, he might be offended that his shroud doesn’t meet demigod funeral regulations.”

“Shut up. You know he would have loved this,” Piper repeated, voice quavering terribly as they folded the shroud into a more compact form so they’d be able to carry it outside with ease later.

They couldn’t do a full funeral pyre—Piper’s backyard didn’t have the space, and they didn’t have the materials—but they’d built a campfire, and that would have to be enough.

Jason had already gotten a proper hero’s funeral. This wouldn’t be that. It wasn’t supposed to be.

“Pretty sure I poked myself with my needle and bled on the bedsheet at one point. If we end up summoning Jason and/or a random demon by accident, that’s totally my bad,” Leo warned, because he absolutely couldn’t be serious right now. He couldn’t. He’d shatter if he tried.

It wasn’t closure, but Leo still felt a bittersweet satisfaction when he looked at the finished product.

It was tradition to represent the godly parent with the shroud. They’d decided to say fuck that. 

Jason’s shroud was a mess of orange and purple dye. It had symbols stitched all over it, but none for anyone’s godly parent.

It had Piper’s dagger and a small flame for Leo so the three of them could be together one last time. 

The rest was just memories. A mess of stitches that was only recognizable as a bird’s eye view of the Grand Canyon if you had a particularly vivid imagination. A cartoonish taco and marshmallows and twin video game controllers. The Superman logo. A meteorite among a sky full of stars.

And, Leo’s final contribution: a terrible likeness of a ridiculous wolf plushie from the time they’d dragged Jason out of camp to go to a fair after he’d mentioned he’d never been. Despite the fact that it was his first time, Jason had somehow been the only one of them who’d actually managed to get a prize out of one of the terribly rigged claw machines. He hadn’t even cheated! There was truly no justice in the universe.

If Leo closed his eyes, he could still hear the way Jason had laughed that afternoon, his eyes sparkling and his usually neat hair a disheveled mess from all the rides Leo and Piper had made him try. They hadn’t let him live the wolf plushie down their whole ride back—they’d jokingly dubbed it his son and repeatedly asked him to name it. Jason had rolled his eyes at them and then promptly given the plushie up for adoption to one of the younger campers when they’d gotten back to camp, despite their horrified protests about how he couldn’t do that to his child.

Leo wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry when he remembered it now.

Above all, this shroud was a tribute to Jason. Not to the version of him that most people had known, either. It wasn’t a tribute to Jason, the hero of Olympus, or Jason, the son of Jupiter and champion of Juno. 

Because sure, Jason may have been all of those things, too, but most of all, he’d been their friend. The guy who’d stayed awake with Leo in the sewer and tried to cheer him up. The guy who’d spent all night on the roof of his cabin with Piper, recreating a memory Hera had made up and making it theirs. Who was kind and just the right amount of goofy and had learned to loosen up and laugh at their antics. Who believed in the people he loved even more fiercely than he believed in the deities he’d been raised to worship.

This version of Jason had never been for the gods. This version of Jason was just for them.

~~~~

They waited until nighttime to hold the funeral, both because Jason had liked looking at the stars and because that posed less opportunity for the neighbors to wonder why the strange family that had just moved here was burning tie-dye bedsheets in the yard in the middle of the day.

Tristan didn’t ask exactly what it was they were doing. After a few weeks with them, he was probably used to their antics.

It was a nice night—not too warm, but also not super cold. The sky was clear and beautiful. Leo’s heart was too heavy to enjoy any of it.

With a gulp, he walked up to the unlit campfire, spreading the bedsheet across it with Piper. They had to keep it partially folded so it fit into their makeshift fire pit—the purpose of this wasn’t to accidentally burn down half of Tahlequah.

Piper let go of the shroud and stepped back, nodding to him.

Leo gulped. Right. He was supposed to light the shroud on fire. 

If the deceased didn’t have a partner, it was camp tradition for their closest friend to do final honors. Despite all of Leo’s faults, that was him. 

Besides, he was the one with the fire powers. He was the obvious choice.

This was supposed to be his job, and his burden. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He held the fabric in his hands, all those memories of everything Jason had been, and he couldn’t do it. The lump in his throat felt bowling-ball sized, and he could hardly see what he was doing through the veil of tears that just wouldn’t stop.

Even after everything he’d told himself and promised Piper, he just couldn’t bring himself to close the lid on Jason’s figurative coffin. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.

Leo didn't have to light the shroud on fire.

They’d let Festus come out of suitcase form for the evening, because it was only right that he also got to attend the funeral, weird looks from neighbors at the tiny plane flying back and forth above the house be damned. When Leo stood frozen in place with his hand on the shroud and couldn’t bring himself to light it, Festus creaked in sympathy, giving him another moment before promptly torching both Leo and the shroud. 

Leo didn’t have much capacity for focusing right now, so his clothes got a little singed, but he didn’t care. The fire felt familiar and weirdly soothing against his skin.

Festus creaked sadly, and Leo wiped at his own eyes with burning fingers, which was without danger for him but would have caused most other people to go blind in an instant.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said weakly, genuinely grateful for the warmth even though the night wasn’t super cold and he was technically dressed for the weather. He knew this was Festus being affectionate with him. It was Festus being affectionate with Jason, too. In a way, Leo was glad all three of them had gotten to be a part of this.

He kept his other hand on the burning sheet for another moment, afraid letting go would mean losing Jason all over again. It was a stupid thought. Jason wasn’t even actually here.

Finally, he wrapped his arms around himself and stepped back, sobbing quietly.

He was supposed to say a few words. That was how most funerals went—not just Camp Half-Blood ones. He’d actually wanted to come up with something to say, but every time he’d tried to focus on it, the pain got too intense for him to handle.

“I can’t do this,” he said quietly, the flames draining out of his body from the sheer intensity of the cold, raw grief. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was apologizing to Piper for not being able to do any of the things he’d promised, or apologizing to Jason for disappearing and failing to cheat fate and getting him killed.

Whatever the case, he didn’t think he deserved either of their forgiveness.

Piper stepped forward and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Telling him it was okay, even when Leo knew it wasn’t. Even when it felt like he was failing both of them all over again.

“Jason, you were maybe the bravest, kindest person I knew,” she began, her voice quavering. Her hand shook in Leo’s—her whole body was trembling—but unlike Leo, she kept talking despite her tears. She’d always been stronger than him. “You did everything to protect the people you loved, up until the end. I wish you’d told me about the stupid prophecy sooner. I wish you didn’t always make yourself carry everything alone. I just- we both loved you a whole bunch, okay? I just need you to know that.”

“Why did you always have to play the fucking hero?” Leo cursed, squeezing Piper’s fingers a little too tightly. He could barely form the words. To no one’s surprise, the burning shroud didn’t answer. “This isn’t fair.”

“It never is,” Piper said in a quiet, broken voice. She pulled Leo to her chest. “We shouldn’t have to just accept this after everything we’ve been through. But as mad as it makes me, that’s all we can do.”

Something burned in Leo, then—a tiny, glimmering spark of grief and anger and despair, screaming that this couldn’t just be it. There had to be something they could do. He wouldn’t just accept this was how things had to be.

“I miss Jason. I just want him back,” he said, trying to pretend that was something that could happen, and not the same desperate wish of a crying eight year old that refused to be pulled away from his mother’s tombstone because she couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t be.

Half the reason he’d kept everyone at arm’s length for so long was he’d never wanted to feel loss like that again. But here he was—feeling just as small and helpless as he had back then.

“Yeah, I know.” Piper was still trembling against him. His shirt was wet with her tears. “Me too.”

Gods, Leo couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep talking about this. He couldn’t keep thinking about this. He couldn’t keep Jason’s stupid face out of his head for ten seconds and at this rate, he was sure he was going to lose it.

“I hate funerals,” Leo sobbed into Piper’s shoulder. “I’m just not a mourning person.”

It was a completely stupid thing to say. For some reason, it helped, though.

“Did you just make a pun?” Piper half-laughed, half-sobbed, looking at him in startled disbelief. “And it wasn’t even a very good pun. It’s literally the middle of the night.”

“Fuck off, I’m grieving. Actually funny Leo will be back in five to seven business days,” Leo said, clenching his trembling fingers into her shirt. “Besides, Jason liked my shitty puns.”

“Yeah, he did.” Piper sniffled. “Thank you for doing this with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t thank me. The last time I should have been there, I wasn’t.” Leo was trembling so hard that he genuinely thought he might have shaken himself to bits if she hadn’t been holding onto him. “Besides, I kind of failed massively at everything you asked me to do, so-”

“I don’t care,” Piper interrupted, hugging him so fiercely that it knocked the air right out of Leo’s lungs. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

For the longest time, they just stayed there, sitting in the grass, holding each other until the flames died and all that remained was the pitch-black night.  ~~~~

Leo spent half the night numbly staring up at the ceiling. He had been right. The funeral hadn’t helped him. All it had done was cause him to cry himself into a pounding headache. 

He’d done it for Piper’s sake—and looking at her sleeping face that was almost peaceful, he was glad he had—but unpacking all the emotions he’d tried so desperately to lock up had still left Leo feeling like shit.

He felt like someone had taken him apart and put him back together all wrong, conveniently forgetting to put some components back in at all. Every part of him that had belonged to Jason had been violently ripped out, and now Leo was left with a bunch of sparking cables.

None of this was right. Nothing would ever be right again. 

Jason was dead. He’d been larger than life, and now he was gone, just like that. Even after weeks of living with that reality, it still felt completely surreal. Time should have stood still. The whole world should have stopped spinning to mourn a loss like that. But it didn’t. The world just kept turning, completely unmoved by Leo’s grief. Life continued. And all that was left of Jason were memories, an empty dorm room and a single box of belongings that was collecting dust under Piper’s bed.

All Leo could do now was mourn the six months he’d lost, and every single memory they’d never get to make. 

Worse, maybe, was the fact that he had to mourn a future he’d started to take for granted—one where Jason was present for all of his birthdays, and his wedding, and the opening of the machine shop Leo had dreamed of since he was a kid. One where they were the kind of lame adults who had barbecue night once a week and spent a lot of time reminiscing about all the bizarre shit they’d gone through as teenagers. One where Leo got to corrupt a little blond kid into being his troublemaker accomplice, and a girl with dark curls sat on Jason’s shoulders, making a mess of his hair. One where they got to grow up and grow old alongside each other.

Leo had no idea how he was supposed to face a future without Jason. Every fiber of his being ached, but despite the pain, he wasn’t sure any of this would ever feel real.

Leo hadn’t imagined any sort of future for himself in a very long time. He’d spent years just trying to make it through the day. Anything beyond surviving had been a minor concern.

But then he’d met Jason and Piper, and he’d foolishly allowed himself to dream.

And now here he was, staring at the ceiling, mourning a world that would never exist.

~~~~

Leo dreamed of fire.

This in and of itself was not unusual. He was a demigod son of Hephaestus. Dreams of fire to him were about as shocking as Percy eating blue food or Annabeth designing a building that utterly defied the laws of physics. 

Leo’s first thought was that this was a call from his dad, who was sick of his moping and wanted to offer helpful, comforting insight like “this is why machines are superior to demigods. You can’t just rebuild demigods when they die.”

He wondered if there was a way to hang up on a godly parent. Man, he really needed to figure out how to cancel this crappy dream vision plan he’d been automatically opted into. That was what he got for never reading the demigod terms and conditions.

But it wasn’t his dad. He’d been in Hephaestus’ workshop often enough that he could recognize it on sight, and that wasn’t what this place was.

Leo looked around, confused. He was in what looked like a standard underground parking garage. 

Except, unlike what Leo assumed to be the norm for underground parking garages, this one was both completely empty and had a raging fire tornado in the middle of it. 

Despite the fact that Leo was standing decently far away, the air felt uncomfortably warm—and if he, who was usually completely unbothered by flames of any kind, could tell, that meant it had to be scorching hot.

It was the kind of heat he’d only felt twice in his life. Once when he’d blown himself and Gaia to bits, and once when he’d been eight years old.

Leo shivered. He could feel his whole body trembling, everything in him trying desperately not to remember.

“What the hell is this?” he yelled into the empty parking garage.

The parking garage didn’t have the decency to answer.

Except it suddenly wasn’t empty. 

There were figures crouching behind the columns. Most of them were blurry, more shapes than people Leo could recognize.

But one of them…

“Piper?” he asked breathlessly. She was right in his line of sight, halfway across the empty car park, pressed closely to one of the columns.

Piper didn’t look up. Her gaze was fixated on the swirling cone of fire. Flames rolled outwards from the storm’s center in waves. They collided with the columns, including the one Leo was standing behind. The column provided some protection from the fire, but didn’t help much with the heat. 

“Piper!” Leo repeated, louder this time. Panic gripped his heart. If he could tell it was hot, how painful did it have to be for her?

He had to get to her. He had to make sure she was okay.

It was a frustratingly slow process. Leo kept having to duck behind columns to dodge the fire. Usually, he wouldn’t have bothered, fire-resistant as he was, but this was the kind of heat even Leo wasn’t brave enough to mess with.

The final blast of fire before Leo got to her left Piper’s hair and one of her sleeves singed.

“Pipes?” he asked when he kneeled down beside her, his voice small. “Are you okay?”

She did look up, then, but she was looking past Leo like he was invisible.

He looked her over frantically. Her face was a mask of pain. Her arms… Leo gulped. Piper had been burnt, and badly. 

Leo couldn’t be burnt like that, but he knew it must’ve hurt like hell. He had no idea how Piper was even staying upright.

“Come on, we have to get you out of here,” he said, but it was hopeless. She didn’t seem to hear him.

More fire rolled past the column they were crouched behind and Piper winced at the heat, but she just stayed right there like she was pinned in place. She wasn’t running. Why the hell wasn’t she running?

Instead, she unslung something from her back—was that a blowpipe?—and aimed it right at the fire tornado.

“What, are you planning to knock the fire unconscious?” Leo asked, exasperated. Piper still didn’t seem to even notice he was there. She just poked her head out from the semi-safety of the column and took aim at the fiery cone, with no regards for how hurt she already was and how much worse it would get if whatever was controlling the fire got more pissed off. “We have to go!” 

Leo wasn’t thinking. He just knew instinctively that if he didn’t get her away from the firestorm, Piper wouldn’t make it.

He grabbed for her arm in blind desperation, pulling her back into cover.

Piper screamed in agony, dropping her weapon and clutching at the spot he’d touched. She curled into herself with a terrible whimper. 

Leo pulled away in horror. In his panic, he’d forgotten about the burns on her arms.

“I’m so sorry. I- I was just trying-” he said, his voice breaking. He’d gotten Jason killed, and now he’d hurt Piper. What kind of awful friend was he? “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Piper bit out, furious. It wasn’t her voice. There was something resentful and ancient about it. “Look at you. The little demigod who defeated Gaia. Do you truly believe you can save your friend? Whose flames do you think caused these burns?”

The scene shifted. Piper was running. The parking garage behind her had exploded into a wall of fire that was rapidly catching up to her—nipping at Piper’s heels, then enveloping her. She screamed as the flames swallowed her whole.

Leo was screaming too. He tried to reach out, to find her in the flames, but he couldn’t move. He could only watch as she disappeared in the wall of heat and smoke.

Suddenly, it was Leo at the center of the firestorm, flames pushing outwards from his supernova center.

He tried to rein his powers in, but they wouldn’t listen. The more he tried to control them, the more fiercely they pushed back, rolling outwards, swallowing everything in their path.

Leo was eight and the machine shop came down around him. He was sixteen and the sky was on fire. 

He was almost seventeen and everything he’d ever loved continued to be swallowed by the inferno of his dumpster fire life.“You are a child of flame,” the voice that wasn’t Piper’s taunted at the back of his head. “Anything you touch, you burn.”

———

Notes:

I’ve always had several grievances with how Jason’s death was handled, and one of the main ones was the fact that his arc was about finding his place between two camps that he both felt like he belonged to, only to have his arc end with him dying and getting a Camp Jupiter Funeral with zero of his CHB friends (or his sister) present. Yeah, no. We are not doing that. We cannot have the point of Jason’s arc be “he is of both camps” only to reduce him back to just Roman in death and for half of his friends to not even be given proper space to mourn him. Let him be of both camps!! That was the entire point! Grrr.

Anyway, obviously Leo and Piper are the specific focus of this fic, but since they were also Jason’s strongest ties to CHB, it makes sense to have them do the honors.

There’s some personal bits in here, specifically Leo’s thoughts on a future he always just assumed Jason would be a part of. I had a loved one pass away a few months ago, and it’s really strange to come to terms with the realization of how much of the future you’d taken for granted. And suddenly all that’s left is this mental image of an empty chair that you always thought they’d fill.

My relationship with that person was completely different than Leo’s was with Jason, but that feeling remains vaguely the same.

On a (slightly less? Potentially more?) depressing note, the plot is starting to kick in a little bit there at the end! Not fast—partially because I wanted to avoid messing with the ending of ToA too much, meaning the majority of this fic takes place after Tower of Nero—but some stuff certainly is going on here ;)

I would loveee to hear if anyone has thoughts on that last bit. I considered giving some extra context since what that scene is won’t be equally obvious to all readers, but I decided I may actually just wait and see if someone in the comment section draws the right conclusion :)

Tag List: @poppitron360 @bookIshpolythist @lilyfrey @lady-silkwing @intenebrisobscurat @manygeese @ann-rex

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A tale of four robins

by Dino_Jaurus A meteorite crashes on earth on the outskirts of Gotham. The Justice League sends Batman a message to check it out. Bruce, who is pissed at his three eldest sons for a stunt they pulled earlier this week sends them to collect it for him. Upon arrival they notice that the rock is too big for them to carry so Dick sends a request for assistance. The three of them go to take a sample when suddenly the meteorite explodes in a bright white light. When the smoke clears the meteorite has disappeared and where Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin were standing are now 3 small children in odd costumes. Or Dick, Jason and Tim get de-aged to when they just became Robin and shenanigans happen Words: 304, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth, Batcow, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Justice League (DCU), Other Character Tags to Be Added Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Justice League & Batfam, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Time Travel, Alternate Universe, Robin!Dick, robin!jason, Robin!Tim, Robin!Damian, Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression/De-Aging, Batfamily Meets the Justice League (DCU), Sibling Bonding, Babysitting, Bruce Wayne Has Too Many Kids, many shenanigans, Dyslexic Author, Other Additional Tags to Be Added via https://ift.tt/Bpar7is

[satureja13]

New Year's Eve already!

Jack calls the others for dinner.

Saiwa: "I wonder if we can stay sit and eat again - like on Winterfest?" But the others all damped his excitement. They are sure that was a one-time winterfest wonder.

And just a few seconds later... Vlad: "Aargh! I really tried but I need to stand up!" Jack: "Gods - I feel it too! Try to resist - there must be a way! I'll make a quick search!"

But it was futile... Saiwa: "At least we tried. And four of us are still sitting at least. Let's eat." (Editor's Note: This is really beyond me. On Winterfest we even had deco, place mats and mugs on the table and they all ate while staying sit! I didn't even decorate the table this time. And why do the others sit and eat and Vlad and Jack got up?)

Then they gathered in front of the TV. Because no way they are going to watch a three hour movie while sitting -.- (And here they all stood up - except Vlad ... )

Like last year, they are watching the Bollywood Classic 'Happy New Year' together.

A few minutes to midnight, they turned off the lights and gathered for the fireworks. Jack: "Can I light the first one?" Saiwa: " 'Course you can. After the sparklers." Kiyoshi: "Are you sure it's save to light fireworks in the indoors?"

Little Goat: 'Get ready for the show!'

Malfoy took Kumo away from the others. He's not as adventurous as the Little Goats. Malfoy: 'You should be save here.' Kumo: 'Thanks, Mal.'

Jack: "See, it's perfectly save." Kiyoshi: "I don't know..."

Jeb: "How beautiful!"

Well, Kioyshi was right. As soon as they lit the fireworks, they started to burn...

Jack: "Oh come on!" (Ji Ho thinks Kiyoshi is so brave and cool ^^')

Jack: "It's New Year's Eve - the tradition demands we have to make noise to chase the evil spirits away!" Saiwa: "I have to agree with Jack. We need every good luck we can possibly get. Let's try the battery." Kiyoshi: "Guys..."

Nice try - now they're all burned...

Saiwa: "Ach, dammit! How are we supposed to find the tin can and the meteorites when we can't even have a proper firework?"

Skully had the idea of saving. He turned his record player on and played loudly the theme song from the movie they'd watched. Skully: "That should do!"

'Yoon toh seedhe bade. Kabhi chahe toh haathon se lete lakeerein chura O humko parwah nahi. Joh bhi kehta hai kehne de jag yeh bhala ya bura Jaisi bhi marzi ho hamari.Karte hai aisi hoshyari Par dil se yaar joh le pukaar toh jaan nisaar kar daale'

'Usually we're very simple But if we want we can steal the lines from one's palms We don't care what the world says about us, good or bad Whatever we desire we attain that by using our smartness But if someone calls from their heart then we'll sacrifice our life for them'

India Waale - Happy New Year OST

That was enough excitement for one day. The Boys decided to share their New Years hugs and kisses and then head to their quarters and take a shower...

Jack: "Happy New Year, mate." Kiyoshi: "Tch."

Jack: "A New Year's kiss for your mate?" Kiyoshi: "Tch."

Jack: "Hey, just for good luck, hm?" Kiyoshi: "Tch." Sai and Jeb are already sharing the second kiss - just for good measure :3

Jack: "Hey, where are you going?"

Jack: "Oh..."

Little Goat: 'What a show!'

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter 'Goats in Space': starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Piglets in Space' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Two Moons Rising

Amidst the Pines, Beneath the Falls (7,051 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 6/25

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen

Dipper was the first to notice something was wrong. He’d been in the woods out behind the house, testing the zoom on a new camera lens and calibrating the focus from an elevated position on the hill. He’d been aiming at distant trees across the valley. It was only by chance that he’d glanced upwards.

The sky that afternoon was a deep, warm blue, with only a few wisps of clouds obscuring it. At first that’s what he thought he was looking at, a stray cloud beside the silvery moon. It wasn’t unusual to see the moon out during the early evening, when the sun dipped low beyond the mountains and shadows lengthened. To see two moons together was quite another matter.

Beside the moon was an identical copy, floating serenely next to its companion. It was impossible to tell which was the original. The two moons were in the same phase as one another, a not-quite full waxing gibbous.

Dipper had rushed back to the house to find Merrise in the garden with her neck craned up, squinting at the sky. She’d been playing her own version of catch with Daedalus - tossing scraps of firewood to the bird and watching them combust on contact - and was now trying to figure out what was wrong about the picture she was seeing. Pacifica came out to join them shortly after, having seen the same oddness out the kitchen window.

The three of them looked in unison at the astronomical anomaly, standing outside long enough to get chilly from an early spring breeze.

“Some kind of optical effect, got to be.” Pacifica was frowning in that particular way, like she was trying to express her displeasure so clearly that the universe would simply have to fold and go back to being understandable again. “A giant projector. Satellites in formation mimicking the moon. A mirage.”

“Who would want to do that?” Merrise rightfully asked. “You’re only supposed to have the one moon, right? You’ve told me that before.” Merrise squinted at the moons, attempting to work out which was the fake.

Dipper’s eyes flitted between the sky and his new Journal, number thirteen. “I’ve seen blue moons, blood moons, lunar eclipses. None of those create an effect like this. One thing’s for certain: The werewolf community is going to be in an uproar.” His wife and daughter groaned audibly, Dipper was pleased to note. “If something has copied the moon, physically I mean, then we might start to feel some gravitational effects.” He hopped on the spot and seemed disappointed when he came back down to Earth as normal. “If only we had some samples to test. I had a supply of moon rocks, but I used them all up hunting Pyrosaurs in college.”

“I remember,” Pacifica said, shivering. “Not easy to forget all the fire and venom. Never did shift the scorch marks from my car seats.”

“They had a connection to the lunar cycle, but this is bigger than any effect I’ve seen before.”

Scowling, Merrise said, “They kind of look like a pair of eyes. Beady eyes, watching us.”

Dipper frowned and stared intently at the twin moons. Already they were getting brighter as the evening wore on. “I’ve seen the moon turn into an eye before. This… feels different.” Merrise and Pacifica shared a look of incomprehension, but accepted Dipper’s solemn proclamation.

Silently they regarded the anomaly, unable to do much else in the face of such a large mystery. Each satellite’s history was evident from millions of miles away; countless craters telling of constant bombardment from meteorites. The moons both faded ever so slightly at the edges, the curvature just about perceivable. Pacifica started to find it almost giddying, watching the pitted surface hanging almost deliriously above. Her husband was used to staring at the night sky for work, but she didn’t often feel the scale of it all, dwarfing their little valley. It put things into perspective, their place in the cosmos. She didn’t like feeling so insignificant against all that empty space.

“Is it just me,” Merrise said after a while, “or do those moons look bigger than usual?”

Dipper got down on one knee to match her eye level. “Oh no, that’s not new. When the moon is lower in the sky it’s closer to landmarks on the ground. Comparatively the moon seems bigger than when it’s high in the sky away from any sense of scale. That actually is an illusion, it only seems bigger in your mind.” He tapped her on the forehead and she looked at the moons with a sense of renewed wonder.

Pacifica meanwhile was less fascinated, deciding to distract herself from how unsettled the moons made her. “I’m not seeing any talk online.” She had her phone out and was flicking through news websites, her fingernails clacking against the screen with each swipe. “No big news stories, nothing international either. Must be a local incident. Ergo, an illusion, like I said.”

“If it’s a local effect, then the cause must be local as well,” Dipper said with confidence. “I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle.” He leant on Pacifica’s shoulder and flashed her a toothy grin.

Indulging him, she tilted her head to one side and matched his gaze. “Oh yeah? So what’s your genius idea for solving this little riddle?”

“I-” His grin faltered as he searched for how to approach the problem. “I… will start gathering knowledge on possibly mythological causes.” A decent recovery.

“Ooh, how intriguing.” Pacifica played along with Dipper’s act, twirling a finger through his messy curls. “How are you gonna do that?”

Dipper touched his thumb to his wife’s chin and tilted it upwards to meet her eyes. “Our new archive of mystical resources, of course.”

“AKA, Mabel?”

“AKA, yes, smartass.” He blushed and Pacifica snuck in a congratulatory smile at puncturing his cool.

Merrise, ignorant of her parents’s little game, got out her phone and took a photo of the sky. She was less than pleased with the result. “Why is it so hard to get a good photo of it?”

“She’s camera shy,” Dipper said, this time making Pacifica laugh. He pecked her on the cheek, then rubbed Merrise’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on those moons. If anything extraordinary happens-”

“You’ll be the first to know, dad.” Merrise said, puffing out her chest. Anytime she could participate in one of the family’s legendary Mystery Hunts she felt immense pride.

Leaving the pair to ogle the celestial spheres, Dipper headed down the road into town. It wasn’t long before he made it to Pines Pawns. For once he wasn’t the only one interested in the store, thronged with tourists as it was. There were so many they were even forced to line up outside trying to get in. To be honest it was the first time he’d seen more than one or two mildly diverted tourists in the store. The people were mostly young types, wearing hipster flannel and tie-dye, septum piercings and dyed hair, eagerly fawning over the new age merchandise on the shelves. It was the sort of crowd his sister would fit into with ease, so it was no surprise she was at the centre of things.

What was surprising was the reason she was attracting so much attention. From atop the desk at the rear of the store, Mabel was calling out through a bullhorn. “Get your moon merch here, half-price for the once in a lifetime astrological occurrence! Buy one, no, buy two! For today only!” Meanwhile, Zera was manning the cash register, which pinged open every few seconds to accept notes of cash.

Dipper smiled and shook his head, as a surge from the crowd buffeted him towards the back of the store. This mad rush recalled the heighdays of Stan’s zeal for profit at the Mystery Shack, a drive that the less cynical Soos had never recaptured, nor did he seek to. Clearly his sister had no such scruples. “Dipper!” Mabel spotted him across the room and hopped down off the desk. “Is this something you did?”

“Not this time!” he said cheerily. He elbowed his way to his sister, apologising to the people he slipped past. “I see you’ve wasted no time.”

“Gotta strike while the iron is hot.” She yelled over the noise of the crowd, despite being close enough that Dipper could hear her perfectly fine. “Or while there are two moons in the sky. Crazy times, huh?”

“You said it. Can we-”

“Go somewhere quieter? Sure, follow me.” They left the bustling crowds behind and headed for the backroom. Mabel waved to Zera, who waved back with an air of forced positivity. Dipper wouldn’t have wanted to face that braying mass of tourists alone. Despite there only being a beaded curtain separating them from the main store, the volume was much more manageable. Mabel made a token effort of checking a stack of boxes, containing keychains in the shape of a crescent moon. She picked one out and twiddled it in her fingers. “Good thing we had all this space stuff in stock. Space is always big with the kids.”

“Or, as it turns out, college-age hippies too.”

Mabel dropped the keychain, slightly admonished. “One customer’s the same as any other. Turns out that moon-shaped charms are big in the spiritual community. So what brings you here? Already on the case, I take it.” She pointed skywards.

Dipper kicked a box into the centre of the floor and sat down. “I’ve barely started, but yeah. We have to figure out what’s caused that second moon to appear. There’s no telling what the consequences might be.”

Mabel folded her arms and looked wistfully at the floor. “Ah, not like the old days, is it? We used to have to go out to find stuff like this. All those long nights with your nose in your journal or local news reports. Now the weird stuff comes to us.”

“Yeah, it has been a while since I’ve researched something supernatural and gone to find it. I suppose, it’s like you said, I haven’t had to. We get our fill of adventures by accident. That’s what living in this town is like.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Ever regret moving here?”

“Not on your life. I’d get too bored living anywhere else.” His sister smirked at this answer and he laid his journal out. “I’m here to see if I can make a start in finding some explanations for our lunar incident. You guys have got a big collection of magical trinkets, right? I don’t suppose you have any related to the moon? Enchanted or otherwise?”

“Moon artefacts, hmm.” Mabel stuck out her tongue and tried to think. “I’m not sure we have anything like that. We’ve got mystical reagents from the Crawlspace, all manner of carved bracelets, a bunch of old tech built by McGucket. Nothing so specific. Grunkle Ford had some moonstones.”

“I kept one,” Dipper said, nodding. “But those were just shiny feldspar rocks, the name’s something of a misnomer. They don’t have anything intrinsic to do with the moon. Maybe good for protection rituals, but otherwise…”

Mabel thought some more, then snapped her fingers. “Ooh, those wax figures that came to life were linked to the moon, yeah?”

“Wrong phase, and they all melted.” Though Dipper’s tone was very blunt, Mabel was used to the no-nonsense state he entered while his mind was on a mission. “Except for the head of Larry King,” he added abruptly. “I wonder what happened to him.” Dipper stared off into space for a few moments. “Oh well, another loose end I should probably tie up someday.”

“Well then I’ve got nothing.” Mabel shrugged and amused herself playing with one of the crescent moons again.

Dipper rested his chin on one fist. “Well how about books on moon mythology?” He’d eyed a couple of paperbacks on one shelf, self-published guides to standing stones or Oregon hiking routes. Nothing too academically rigorous, but it might be a start.

“Hold on, I know I’ve got a box of space books somewhere in this mess.” Mabel started shifting the boxes around and rifling through them wild abandon. Dipper had to duck as a book flew past his head. “Self-help, no. History of art, no. Book on optical illusions, eh, maybe. Aha!” After tossing out a dozen or so paperbacks, Mabel finally reached a seam of relevant books. She hefted the box over and set it down in front of her brother. “Here, try these.”

Dipper rummaged through the set, removing any that seemed irrelevant. Some were too juvenile, kids books with colourful illustrations, while others veered off-topic. A history of the shuttle programme by a ‘Scorch’ Pierson seemed interesting, but wouldn’t help him in the current situation. Finally he found a large hardback book with a blown-up photograph on the moon adorning the cover. “‘Our Constant Companion’, by Catriona Shaw.”

“Ooh, that one’s good. It covers all sorts of myths and folklore.”

“You’ve read it?” Dipper said, mildly surprised. His sister usually left the research to him.

“Some of the legends are cool,” she admitted. “Ancient religions are always good for art inspiration.”

“That figures.” He began flipping through the pages, admiring the colourful art of the night sky as woodcuts and paintings over the centuries. Mabel left him to study and headed back out to the store to help her wife wrangle the customers and drum up as much profit as possible. The book turned out to be a decent overview of various cultures’ beliefs about the moon, so he started jotting down notes in his journal. There was Chang’e the Chinese moon goddess and her pet moon rabbit. Various Egyptian gods vied for the position of moon deity, while Dipper found more interest in the Norse myths, where Máni was the brother of the sun goddess, Sol, and both were pursued across the sky by wolves. There was always a chance that one of these myths has some kind of connection to today’s incident, some reflection of a supernatural effect.

As he immersed himself in the book, outside the sun continued its gradual arc downwards, casting the sky in a bitter yellow, while the clouds became tinged blood red. All the while the twin moons grew brighter, illuminating the town with a steady glow. In the end Dipper had to admit that the book, while informative and engaging to read, had little to offer in terms of solutions.

As he was finishing up a final section of notes, Zera swept into the backroom, empty cardboard box in hand. She exchanged it for a full box, and caught Dipper’s eye on the way out. “How’s it going, Moon Man?”

He waved his hand sideways. “Good and bad, some interesting lore that might be important, but I’ll need to do some more observations first. I have some theories-“

“Weather balloon,” Zera said as if it was obvious.

Dipper blinked. “But it doesn’t- it can’t- it looks exactly the same as the original moon!”

“It’s a really big weather balloon.”

Dipper was at a loss for words. She tried to suggest the hypothetical width with her hands but was defeated by the box she carried.. “Somehow I don’t think you're taking this seriously.”

She shrugged. “All the cool UFO sightings on this planet turn out to be weather balloons. Why are you so het up about it anyway? Might add some flavour to this world, having another moon. My homeworld was fine with two. It could be perfectly harmless for all we know.”

“Yeah, and you’ve always been a perfectly legitimate business woman.” Zera pouted as he flipped Our Constant Companion’s cover over and returned the book to its place. “Every instinct I have tells me that the double moon is far from benign.”

“Whatever,” Zera said dismissively. “I’m sure you’ll come up with some way to get rid of it. So long as it doesn’t mess with the tides I’ll be fine.” She swanned out of the room but Dipper held her back.

“Wait, the tides?”

“Uh, yeah. The moon causes the tides. Surely you already know that.”

“Of course I know that,” he said, chagrinned. “What I mean is that I hadn’t thought of it before.”

“Why, you think it’s important?” Zera tugged her sleeve, impatient to get back to her job.

“Everything is important when we know so little.”

Zera pondered that for a moment, then said, “maybe it’s a reverse thing.” Dipper looked at her quizzically. “You know. Some wizard somewhere might be doing water magic and that’s making the moon double up in sympathy.”

“Well, you’re the magic expert, makes as much sense as any other theory I’ve got so far. Sympathetic resonance,” he mumbled to himself. “If the moon is duplicated, then it might have some noticeable effect on water… but we’d need some way to observe the effect on a large enough scale.”

Zera took great pride in having knowledge to contribute for once. “There’s only one body of water large enough for that. Lake Gravity Falls. Take it from an amphibian.”

“I thought you were more like a fish?”

Zera sighed. “I’m an alien, I don’t fit into your categories. Really, Dipper, I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one around here.”

Once night had fallen, Dipper took another close look at the sky. Confirming his suspicions, no other astronomical objects were duplicated. It was just the moon. None of the stars or constellations were doubled up from what he could tell. When he returned home, Merrise was eagerly waiting for him. “Dad, dad, we figured out which moon was the real one!”

“Oh, that’s great! I didn’t turn up many leads with Mabel.”

“Mom saw it, come and see.” She dashed ahead of him into the garden, where Pacifica was hunched over the eyepiece of a telescope he’d bought her for her 19th birthday.

“The dark side is fake,” she said without looking at him. She stood back and offered the eyepiece. He was focused on the rightmost moon, on the thin slice between the illuminated surface and sheer blackness. To his amazement, he could make out a trio of stars twinkling behind where the solid surface of the moon should be.

“Oh, I love you,” he said, turning to Pacifica.

“You’d better,” she said, smirking.

“So what do we do now?” Merrise asked as squeezed her way between her parents to look through the telescope.

“I’ve got one thing we can try,” Dipper said. “It was something Zera said to me. If the second moon is exerting a proportional effect on the tides, then we might see some waves down at the lake.”

“And then what?” Pacifica tapped her foot, wondering if her husband had any further insights to share. “We get there, see if there are any big waves, go surfing at night, then…” She glared at him, expecting an answer.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping between us we might have more to go on. But hey, we’ve got your pendant.” He picked up the silver Pine Tree shape hanging around Pacifica’s neck. “If there is something down at the lake, this will let us know once we’re close.”

Pacifica closed her fist around Dipper’s hand and gently lowered the pendant back against the cool skin of her neck. “I’m not convinced this thing’s been working properly. I’ve hardly noticed it spinning at all recently.”

Dipp scratched his chin, considering if anything could be done to make the pendant more sensitive. Giving her the thing all those years ago had been meant as a protective talisman, to warn her of danger coming from unexpected sources, but she’d hardly used it for that purpose. Pacifica preferred to use it for verification, to test whether items were truly magical, or to track down sources of unusual energy.“Maybe the calibration on the enchantment’s set wrong? It’s possible that living in such close proximity to the kinds of weirdness it’s meant to detect have dulled its ability. The background level in Gravity Falls is too strong.”

“Or maybe it’s having an alien for a daughter that’s done it.” Merrise was still bent over the telescope, now making her own fun by panning around and looking at the constellations she could name.

“I guess it’s still worth a shot,” Pacifica said, relenting. “A quick scope-out of the shoreline, then we can head back.” Dipper and Pacifica made to leave the garden, with Merrise following along, but Pacifica held her palm out. “Not tonight, Merrise.” She opened her mouth to argue but Dipper cut her off.

“It’s dark, and late, and you have school tomorrow. No ifs, no buts.” He ruffled her hat. Pouting and grumbling, she stomped inside. “And look after Leah! The number for the pizza place is on a sticky note in the kitchen. We won’t be gone longer than an hour I should think.”

Pacifica hooked an arm around Dipper’s, impressed by his display of authority. “Wow, slick move. Now we can spend some alone time by the lake. Been ages since we had a date night.”

“I was being serious, Paz,” he said, rolling his eyes, but then he smiled. “I love that your idea of a good date involves staking out a lake in the middle of the night.”

She shrugged and started dragging him along. “What can I say, you’ve given me a funny sense of a good time. It’ll be fun with you there. Come on Mr Pines, let’s go get rid of that spare moon.”

“After you, Mrs Pines,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. With a quick stop in the house to pick up some basic gear - flashlights, spare charging blocks, and for Dipper something he’d had his memory jogged about - they hopped in the family Mini and made the quick ten minute drive down to the lake. As they cruised along the tree-lined roads, Dipper asked Pacifica, “What made you want to ditch the kids?”

“Opportunity,” she said casually from the passenger seat, “I mean, when was the last time we went out to find something mystical, just the two of us? Not every day a second moon gives you that chance.”

“And you’re not even a little guilty about leaving Merrise to look after Leah unsupervised?”

“Not even a little.” Her husband didn’t take his eyes off the road, but she saw his brow furrow ever so-slightly. “I mean, she’s capable of watching her sister. She’s capable of lots of things, like fighting giant monsters on the regular, so I’m sure child-minding won’t be a stretch.” The furrow on Dipper’s brow still wasn’t going away. “If the worst comes to it she’s got Mabel on speed dial.” Dipper shot her a quick glance, so she revised the statement. “Ok, she has Soos on speed dial? Better?” That finally returned him to a neutral expression.

Upon reaching the lake, they stepped out onto the sand, interspersed with tufts of spiky grass. A number of small dinghies and trawlers were tied up at the edge of the water by the bait store, while a thin layer of mist hung above the water, making it impossible to see the far bank. There would have been perfect silence at the lake had it not been for the anomaly. It very quickly became obvious that Zera had been onto something with her offhand theory. As they walked along the beach it was buffeted by ceaseless waves, one every two seconds like clockwork. Dipper shone a flashlight at the water, though it didn’t penetrate far into the darkness. It was enough for him to trace the waves back to the source. They were emerging from a single point a short way out into the water. Concentric ripples pulsed out of the water, like heavy bass from a speaker, a repetitive harmonic rhythm.

“That’s not natural,” Pacifica said dryly. “Or at least not our everyday contingent of normality.” She held out her pendant and let it dangle between two fingers. As she approached the edge of the waves where the sand started to become squishy and brown, the pendant picked up speed, rotating almost in time with the waves hitting the bank.

Dipper studied the scene before him though his view was more on his wife than the strange emanations in the lake. Pacifica had been right. As with the time since his last bout of journal research, it had been far too long since the pair of them had gone out in search of something fantastical. More often lately they were interrupted by the supernatural in their day-to-day lives. The pressures of parenthood had also consumed their free time. He relished those surprising moments of excitement when they came, but getting to go on an adventure with the love of his life was even better. After the stresses Pacifica had gone through earlier in the year, it was about time she could relax and take part in a favourite hobby. Pacifica looked serene in the double moonlight, her silver earrings and the Pine Tree shimmering as they caught the light.

Pacifica suddenly flinched, making Dipper rush to her side to defend her. Instead he found her recoiling from a piece of washed up seaweed, green and slimy. “Oh yuck, it nearly touched me.”

“Never change, Princess,” he teased, putting his arms around her and lifting her slightly back from the unseemly tendril of weed.

“My hero,” she muttered, finding his nobility both condescending and slightly charming, despite herself. Dipper set her down and she kicked at the sand, sending a clump towards the unending waves. “Well, this is bound to be something to do with our new moon. But what do we do about it?”

“Skinny dipping?”

She turned to her husband and raised a single eyebrow. That was enough to make him blush and look away awkwardly. Her lips raised in a half-grin. She could still play him like a fiddle. Then Dipper took off his shirt and it was Pacifica’s turn to blush. “I didn’t think you were serious,” she mumbled, drinking in the sight of his chest.

“Oh, I wasn’t, but it’s fun to make you squirm sometimes.” Taking off his jeans, he revealed a pair of dark blue swimming trunks beneath. “Thought I might need to come prepared.”

“You’re not actually going to swim out to the centre of those waves?” She took Dipper’s flashlight and shone it at the lake. The waves were so regular that it resembled a series of ever-expanding sloping hills.

“Why not?” Dipper said, and Pacifica once again marvelled at how stupidly fearless her husband could be.

“Why not?” she asked. “Because you don’t know what’s lurking out there? Because that’s the start of every cheap teen slasher flick ever. The hunky boyfriend goes out to impress some bimbo and gets eaten by a sea monster. Or lake monster. Or second moon.”

“You might be stretching the analogy a bit. Hunky, bimbo?” Pacifica didn’t deign him with an answer, strolling back towards the edge of the waves. She turned a critical eye to the water, jumping back slightly when a tiny bit of water splashed her boots. “You don’t need to worry, Pacifica,” Dipper said, patting her on the back. “I’ve studied the town records. Practically no-one has ever been hurt or gone missing near the lake in the last thirty years. The creatures of Gravity Falls may be overzealous sometimes, a tad dangerous if encountered unprepared, but they’re also notoriously shy when it comes to large human populations. This lake is one of the busiest tourist spots in the valley.”

“And that’s enough to stop the lake being infested with monsters?”

“More or less.” That answer didn’t settle her mood. “All the large cryptids which call the lake home reside way in the depths, hundreds of feet below the surface. That or they’re isolated to some of those craggly islands out there past the fog.” He pointed out in the same direction that led to the heart of the beating rhythm, but Pacifica could see nothing but grey murk. “Besides, I’m not going completely defenceless.” He jogged to the car and back, carrying a large chunk of off-white crystal, twice as big as his palms.

“Oh great, you can cave something’s head in with that.”

“It’s a moonstone. Mabel reminded me about them. We put a protection spell on the Mystery Shack years ago, but the focusing stones weren’t needed once the shield was up. Grunkle Ford let me keep one as a souvenir. Mom thought it was just a nice rock and put it in her collection. I mean, it is just a rock, but potent in conjunction with some other ingredients.” He handed the rock to Pacifica and she nearly dropped it due to the weight. A few chalky smears rubbed off on her hands so she gave it back.

“That’s your big plan? Remind me again what this lump of crystal has to do with anything?”

“Like I said, it’s essentially just a rock, only connected to the moon by symbolism.”

“So at best you might lure out a symbol? I’m not convinced you’re entirely prepared for this ‘expedition’.”

“If you’re that worried for me… how about a kiss for luck?” He offered his cheek to her, and she made to look as if wavering on granting his request. Then she slapped him on the ass and sent him ambling towards the water.

“Good luck,” she called after him. “You’re gonna get yourself killed someday!” Pacifica yelled in an obnoxiously supportive tone.

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” He extended a toe into the surf and his foot shot back. The water was ice cold. Steeling himself, he waded out, struggling against the waves and occasionally giving high-pitched yelps due to the chill. He lifted the moonstone high to keep it dry, panting with the effort.

“You know, that is a good look on you,” Pacifica called out. Despite the fact he could tell her words were sincere, the sheer amount of sarcasm her voice was laced with confused Dipper’s reactions. He wasn’t sure whether to feel mocked or to want to heel at Pacifica’s feet. Either way the cold was the only thing keeping him from overheating due to blushing so much.

When the water was up around his waist, about halfway to the source of the emanations, Dipper stopped to get his bearings. The omnipresent fog that clung to the lake’s surface at night made it hard to see what could lie beneath the waves. Gradually his eyes adjusted, and he noticed something odd about the water. “Hey, Pacifica,” he hissed, his teeth chattering. “Turn off the light.”

Obligingly, she did so, plunging him into darkness. Except not quite. The longer he floated there, the more he could see, as a glow began to brighten. It was a phosphorescent glow, like the kind given off by algae. Only this glow wasn’t blue or green, the colours of nature. It was a cold, dead white. Moonlight.

“Would you get a load of-” He turned to call back to Pacifica, but the fog had rolled in, reducing her to a silhouette. Suddenly the repetitive splash of water against his chest subsided. The waves had stopped. He panned up to check that the second moon was still present. There it was, still up in the sky, mocking him with its presence. The resolute submerged phosphorescence still lingered as well. Where before it had been diffuse, spread out and giving light to a swath of the lake, now it was concentrating in a smaller mass. A mass that was slowly flowing towards him.

A blast of mist shot out from the water in front of Dipper. He peered closer, then recoiled in shock at the sight of his distorted reflection, twice over. Suspended in the water were two bulging black orbs, the size of basketballs.

He felt a twist in his gut as thin membranes slid over the orbs. What he inexorably recognised as some kind of creature had just blinked. They were like the eyes of a guppy, blank and devoid of any sign of intellect. Between the eyes was a thin strip of tough, leathery looking skin. Dipper would have loved to have said later that he was overawed by the majesty of discovering a new species, and that he meticulously examined every detail of the alien lifeform. But in fact he was just shitting himself with fear. He was completely exposed, half-naked, with nothing to defend himself besides a heavy rock.

The creature gurgled, and the repeating waves started up again. The two eyes swivelled and focused on Dipper. He thought he could detect a distinct disdain for disturbing this thing’s tranquility. The pulses began to increase in frequency. First one a second, then two, then three. Stumbling backwards, Dipper was overpowered and fell into the water. The moonstone drove the air from his chest and he choked on lake water. His body shivered as he wrestled to get back on his feet. His muscles had seized up and refused to function. Sliding through the water like a battleship, the moonlit monstrosity aimed straight for him. Dipper swam backstroke like his life depended on, slightly buoyed away from the creature by the onslaught of waves. His back hit sand and he furiously paddled with his arms to drag himself onto the shore. The two black eyes continued to observe him, blinking once or twice as the waves died down a second time. Dipper held his breath.

The lake exploded with water as the creature raised itself up two hind legs. A pair of stubbier forelimbs emerged from either side of a scaly moss-coloured ribcage, and sharp spine-like fronds poked out intermittently from the skin. The unwieldy head, weighed down by the giant eyeballs, leered at him and roared. It had rows of jagged teeth, dripping with saliva and eager to bite down. Despite his fear, Dipper was utterly fascinated. He had no idea what this thing was, but it was clearly some kind of aquatic lizard. Then his attention was caught by a flap of skin unfurling itself on the creature’s back, forming a semicircular crest that flared out. In fact, with the way the creature’s back arched, the crest resembled more of a crescent shape. Dipper’s jaw dropped open in recognition.

At that exact second, Pacifica slid on her knees to his side and pulled him onto his feet. The monster roared in anger and took several ponderous steps in pursuit.

Still holding the moonstone, causing it to painfully scratch against his chest, Dipper was babbling. “It is a Pyrosaur! Some kind of mutation or variant. An Aqua-Pyrosaur! More of a theropod than a quadruped this time.”

“Marvel at the creature from the black lagoon later, Mason.” Pacifica clutched his arm and yanked him to one side, right as the creature swiped out with its forelimbs. They felt a whoosh as its claws sliced the air above them.

“Try this on for size,” Dipper shouted, lobbing the moonstone at the Pyrosaur. It sailed through the air, missing the Pyrosaur completely as it stood calmly to one side, and sank into the lake with a plop. “Oh.”

“Great, there goes our only protection. Maybe we can- duck!”

Pacifica placed her palms on Dipper’s chest and shoved as hard as she could, pushing him back just as a blast of steam like air from a bellows enveloped space between them. The creature was spewing the gusts of steam from its mouth, creating a thick blanket separating Dipper from Pacifica. This was new to Dipper. He’d only known Pyrosaurs to emit belches of flame, hence the name he’d dubbed them. The creature fixed its sightless eyes on him again.

Dipper scrambled away, trying to get further away from the water. This reptilian beast might be dangerous, but it was clearly unused to plodding about on its hindlegs. Its feet were more like flippers, flapping with every step. He heard the Pyrosaur snorting again, ready to launch another cloud of steam. He dodged to one side at the last second. This time he was close enough - nearly too close - able to realise that it wasn’t steam or fine mist. The spray contained near-microscopic crystals, suspended in the air, razor sharp and lingering as a deadly cloud. If he’d breathed it in his lungs would have been torn to shreds. He couldn’t go back that way. The cloud was impassable without taking serious harm.

The Pyrosaur had no such weakness. It lumbered through the crystal mire without any consideration that it might injure itself. Dipper had two choices. A steep embankment up to a grassy field, where he might be able to outrun the Pyrosaur back to the car, or he could dodge to the left and try to make his way to the lake. The first option wasn’t ideal; he was barefoot and it was open territory. He’d more likely trip or be consumed in a cloud of shimmering death. In the water this crystal Pyrosaur would likely be in its natural habitat, so that wasn’t a perfect solution either.

Before he could choose which fate to risk, Pacifica emerged from the fog reared up behind the beast. She swung her arms, bringing down an oar taken from one of the tied-up boats. On impact the wood cracked in two, knocking the beast onto its stomach and causing Pacifica to shudder in place. Dipper had time to scamper up the bank, but was helpless to watch as the Pyrosaur stood back up to full height and turned its gaze to his wife.

He was momentarily petrified, as the Pyrosaur inhaled and readied itself to envelop Pacifica in the crystal shroud. But the beast had underestimated Pacifica. As it shifted back to exhale, Pacifica used the opening to thrust her arms forwards. In her dripping wet grip was the moonstone, retrieved from the lakebed moments earlier and concealed while she got the beast’s attention.

When the rock touched the leathery skin of the Pyrosaur a flash of purple light burst out like a lightning strike. Pacifica became surrounded by a faint purple bubble, and searing steam came from the creature’s body. Seizing her chance, Pacifica pressed the stone harder against the Pyrosaur. It writhed and moaned in pain.

Dipper whipped his head up and watched in awe. The second moon was flickering and fading back into the real one. As Pacifica hefted the moonstone back away from the creature it left a gaping hole in the skin, the edges lit by fire. Like a scrap of paper caught alight the fire spread, burning the Pyrosaur up into cinders in a matter of seconds. The second moon struggled to stay visible, rendered only as an after-image, an echo of its forebear. The glow weakened and weakened until the new moon popped out of existence. Dipper thought it was like the static effect of turning off on old tv, the moon simply diminished to a tiny point before vanishing entirely.

The couple were left standing by the lake, lit by the light of the stars and the single remaining moon. The water of the lake was still, with only a few ripples left to dissipate. Pacifica let the moonstone drop onto the sand and bent over to catch her breath.

“That… actually worked,” Dipper said, his breath whooping out of him like that of an exhausted athlete. “That was… a bit more… intense than I was expecting.” He summoned up the energy to get back on his feet. He was desperately cold, still wet from his little swim. When he stumbled over to Pacifica, she was lying with her head back on the sand, not even caring that it was tangled up with sand. She looked up at him with the biggest grin on her face.

“I love this life.”

“Seriously?” he asked, mildly amazed.

“Oh yes. If anything that was slightly too easy.”

He looked down at his chest, covered in scratches, and the evaporating cloud of deadly crystals. He considered how both they’d both come to certain doom and had to calm his beating heart before shaking his head slowly from side to side. “Pacifica Pines, I have ruined your sensibilities.”

She lazily waved him off. “Where else can I get the adrenaline rush of saving your ass and defeating a primordial moon dragon. Or whatever it was. What was wrong with Zera’s cousin anyway?”

“Hey now Paz, this thing was reptilian. You should know by now that Zera is more like an amphibian.” She shot him a withering glare, barely visible now there was half as much illumination. Her pendant swung freely, but it was only gravity that was making it spin now. “That looked like a relative of the common or garden Pyrosaur variants I’ve run into before.I haven’t seen one in years, and definitely not one like that. A whole new subspecies, can you believe that!”

Even though his zeal was infectious, Pacifica still put her hand on her husband’s arm to calm him down. “But what was with the moon? Why did it have that kind of effect?”

“I’m not quite sure. Pyrosaurs are linked to the lunar cycle, they’re normally only able to manifest in this plane of reality during certain phases. It was like this one was stuck somehow, unable to properly shift away. Almost as if something was blocking it. I wonder what could do that.”

“I don’t,” Pacifica said, delighting in his frown. “You can speculate and draw this new mutant into your journal tomorrow. Right now let’s just bask in the glow of victory.” She kissed him on the cheek. Hand in hand they strolled back to the car. Even though Dipper was freezing, he didn’t mind that they took their time. He knew Pacifica was right, that he could write this all up in his journal tomorrow. Right now he savoured the moment, underneath a sky filled with infinite starlight.

“And the glow of only one moon from now on,” he added. They both turned away, neither noticing the last of the ripples on the water’s surface.

[necrofage]

♱ TEAR THIS PLACE APART... — ARISU RYOHEI X CHISHIYA SHUNTARO

synopsis: arisu wakes up in the hospital with all of his memories of the borderlands still intact.

wc: 3k

playlist: spotify

tags: mxm , heavy angst , post-borderlands , au - canon divergence , arisu is the only one that remembers the borderlands , canon-typical violence , hurt/comfort what comfort , arisu has schizo affectove disorder (i am projecting onto him) , psychosis , grief/mourning , implied/referenced canon sexual assault (niragi)

an: i am. not sure if i will upload every chapter onto here because i do not know how long the fic is going to be, but i am uploading the first chapter for a peek and i will reblog this when a new chapter is uploaded on ao3. the tags will also be updated as each chapter comes out

arisu woke up in a panic; eyes frantically darting around the room until they landed on… is that hajime? arisu’s brows furrowed as he stared at his younger brother who was curled up on the small sofa in the corner of the hospital room, asleep. his lips parted to speak, but as much as he tried, nothing came out. his throat was dry. he continued to look around the room a moment before he spotted the glass of water on the bedside table. carefully, he leaned over, reaching for the glass with his opposite hand. he knocked it over.

arisu winced as the glass shattered on the tile floor; his gaze shifting back to his younger brother who now stared at him with wide eyes. “aniki?” arisu’s expression softened before his eyes fell onto the puddled water on the floor, littered with shards of glass. hajime seemed to understand, quickly getting up and moving to the side of arisu’s bed, careful to step over the mess. he grabbed a pitcher from the nightstand that arisu hadn’t seen, as well as a new cup from a short stack of them.

hajime poured the water, filling the glass up only halfway before shifting his attention to his older brother, holding the glass to his lips and motioning for him to lean his head back, which he did. he drank the liquid in one big swallow before hajime removed the glass. “do you need more?” arisu shook his head.

several minutes passed – hajime had cleaned up arisu’s mess before pulling a chair to the side of his bed, sitting next to the nightstand in silence, allowing arisu time to collect himself. “what… happened?” arisu asked; his voice slightly hoarse from disuse. and then hajime explained. arisu had left the house to hang out with chota and karube like any other day, but… there had been an incident. the tokyo meteorite disaster, hajime said they’d been calling it.

arisu held a hand up, signaling for hajime to stop talking as a look of horror spread through his face. “i… remember. karube and chota… they didn’t make it, did they?” he looked into hajime’s eyes, but he didn’t need to see the flash of sympathy that showed in them to know the answer. he remembered everything.

he remembered the three of them goofing off in the streets of shibuya.

he remembered running into the subway station, not stopping until they reached a bathroom to hide from the cops. that… wasn’t what happened if what hajime said about the meteor shower was true, but he remembered it so clearly.

he remembered walking out of the subway station once it got quiet, wandering into the empty street that had just been full of people.

he remembered that first… game. dead or alive. three of clubs. rules: players must select the correct door within the stipulated time. clear condition: leave the building through the elevator within the time limit. three out of four survivors. smoke filling the room as they discussed which was the right door. the unnamed girl panicking before running through the wrong door; the laser shooting through her head. them going through the opposite door. them arguing with shibuki. karube taking a risk by opening the door labeled “live”. karube punching him. arisu solving the puzzle because of the bmw 532d parked outside of the building. the answer was “die”. a bmw 532d is four meters and ninety-four centimeters in length. the length of the building was equivalent to four of those cars, meaning the building was approximately twenty meters in length. each room was about six meters. the elevator was at the corner of the building. the building was square, as were all the rooms. there were only three rooms on one side of the building. him guiding them through the rest of the building until they were found in a room that shouldn’t have been there. him figuring out the secret room thanks to the fact that chota was filming the first room they were in. chota’s leg catching on fire as they exited the room. making it out through the next door. the man in the back alley who announced his unwillingness to continue playing.

he remembered the next. a game of tag. five of spades. rules: run away from the tagger. clear condition: discover the safezone hidden in one of the building rooms within the time limit. six out of thirteen survivors – fifteen if he counted the two taggers. only he and karube participated. they met nitobe; the man who explained the meaning of the suits. he remembered meeting aguni, tatta, chishiya, usagi, then working with them for the first time. nitobe dying. finding the base in the last three minutes with chishiya. the secret tagger who was hiding in the room. chishiya flirting with him as they were ambushed. almost dying before usagi came rushing in to help him press the buttons. the secret tagger’s head exploding in front of them.

he remembered…

he remembered hide and seek. seven of hearts. rules: one person will be the wolf, and the other three will be the lambs. the one found by the wolf will become the next wolf. hide well so that the wolf does not discover you. clear condition: whoever is the wolf at the end of the game wins. after the time limit, the collars around all the lambs will explode. one out of… one out of four survivors. only one person could survive. chota was the wolf first. then it was arisu. then karube. then arisu again. then shibuki – and she ran; and karube went after her. then karube was the wolf. then arisu again, and he begged them to stop fighting. to just give him a bit of time to think of a solution. shibuki lunged for him with the machete in her hand, and chota stopped her, telling him to run – so he did, and karube chased him. he hid. there were eight minutes left and he hid, attempting to pry the collar from his neck until… until he gave up. he was scared. he was scared to die. he was scared to be alone. he was scared to lose his friends. he was scared. there were three minutes remaining and he ran. he ran to save one of his friends as they hid from him, laughing about their lives together. twenty seconds remaining. he found karube, who refused to look at him. ten seconds remaining. karube thanked him. five. four. three. two. the collars exploded.

he remembered usagi finding him in front of that same building. she helped him. she saved him. and then they played distance. four of clubs. rules: endure the trial and reach the goal within the time limit. clear condition: reach the goal safely. three out of five survivors. the three men on the bus; one of them injured with a sprained ankle – takuma. yamane and seizan were the names of the others. they left the bus; arisu feeling horrible about leaving takuma behind. they ran five thousand kilometers. six thousand. the panther. they hid under and in cars. the panther attacked seizan, allowing the other three to continue running. they ran two thousand more kilometers where they found a royal enfield motorcycle. arisu took it back to the bus while usagi and yamane ran for the goal. arisu used the diesel from the motorcycle to start the bus, and he and takuma drove. they drove to the goal – only… the bus was the goal. the bus was always the goal. yamane didn’t make it, but arisu saved usagi, grabbing her hand from the open door of the moving bus right before the water swept her away.

he remembered that he and usagi played various games in search of anyone with information on the beach, and then… they found it, or rather they were found. they were both knocked out and taken inside where they met mira, kuzuryu, an, hatter. the plan. defeat all the games, and then the face cards and one person could go home. do it all again and again and again until everyone was home. usagi participated in her own game while arisu… arisu was set up for a test. a trial to see if he was fit to become an executive member of the beach. an was there, so was tatta from the tag game. he met kuina for the first time. light bulb. four of diamonds. question: which switch turns on the light bulb? rule number one: only one switch among a, b, and c will turn on the light bulb. rule number two: you only have one chance to flip a switch while the door is open. if the door is closed, you can flip the switches as much as you like. rule number three: if someone is in the room, or if a switch has been turned on, the door will be locked in place and cannot be moved. clear condition: answer correctly which switch turns on the light bulb. six out of seven survivors. leave the door open. flip switch a. an asking if he was sure. no – he wasn’t sure. but then he was. close the door. flip switch a. wait. open the door. touch the light bulb. it’s hot. the answer is switch a.

he remembered the militants. aguni again. niragi. “last boss”. he remembered chishiya showing up at his door in the middle of the night. talking, learning more about the mysterious man in his own way. gentle gazes and lingering touches until chishiya left. finding the dead bodies the next day. chishiya’s plan to steal the cards from hatter’s safe. hatter dying. sneaking into hatter’s room. finding the safe. putting in the code. it didn’t work. then he wasn’t alone. chishiya betrayed him. the militants beat him. they tied him up and left him alone in a room. hours later, the voice rang through the hotel, announcing a new game. witch hunt. ten of hearts. rules: the evil witch who took the girl’s life is hiding among you. clear condition: find the witch and burn them in the fire of judgement. thirty out of sixty six survivors. he was in that room for almost the entire duration of the game until usagi found him. aguni had killed hatter. the witch was momoka herself. she and asahi were dealers. asahi dying as soon as she announced it. them clearing the game, and finding the video asahi left behind, showing them where to go for answers. arisu, usagi, kuina, and chishiya traveling together in search of the base. the two girls sleeping in one of the tents. him and chishiya sitting at the fire. forgiving chishiya for the betrayal. dumbly kissing the man. but then it wasn’t dumb because chishiya was kissing him back. them stopping before anything more happened, but they did fall asleep in each other’s arms that night. he remembered waking up alone the next day, but then everything was fine with the way chishiya continued to steal glances his way. they finally reached the place in asahi’s video a few days later, finding several dead dealers. then all of the screens in the room turned on, and mira – the queen of hearts – was on the screen, announcing the continuation of the games via the face card games.

he remembered the king of spades. anti-tank rifle. hiding behind cars was useless. them running. the blimp in the air. him and usagi losing kuina and chishiya in the chase. then them reuniting, and an and tatta showing up in a car. them all getting in except for chishiya because a grenade had been thrown. them driving, then them being chased until the car flipped and they were running again. the group losing an. them finding another car and hiding in a building. going on supply runs with usagi. her telling him about her father, and him telling her about his friends. discussing their next move. deciding they couldn’t do anything about the king of spades just yet.

he remembered niragi coming back. kyuma, shitara, uta, maki, and goken. osmosis. king of clubs. the team with the highest total of points at the end of the game wins. four out of ten survivors. usagi and kuina were both given three hundred points. niragi had four thousand and seven hundred. arisu took four thousand and six hundred, and tatta stayed at the base with only one hundred points. they split up into groups; niragi with usagi, kuina with arisu. two thousand points from an item. five hundred points from a battle five hundred more from a battle. five hundred again. everyone back to base. one thousand points from an item. forty thousand points to the king of clubs team, and ten thousand points to the player team. shitara was disqualified. five hundred from an item to the king of clubs team. five hundred from a battle to the king of clubs. one thousand and five hundred from an item to the king of clubs team. five hundred points from a battle to the king of clubs team again. three thousand points from an item to the king of clubs. five hundred from a battle to the king of clubs. thirty minutes remaining. the plan. get twenty thousand points from touching the enemy base. usagi distracting goken while arisu, kuina, and niragi went for the base. kyuma, uta, and maki touching their own base. kuina distracting maki. arisu going for kyuma. arisu being inactive. kyuma getting electrocuted. niragi spitting blood in uta’s face. uta touching him right as he touched their base. ten thousand points to the player team. niragi running for maki, electrocuting him and giving kuina the go for the base. maki being unfazed; him kicking kuina. five hundred to the king of clubs. back to base. everyone but arisu and tatta leaving to look for items. it’s pointless. two thousand and five hundred to the player team from an item. the player team being behind by five hundred points. there only being ten minutes left. arisu leaving to find someone to battle. him finding niragi on top of usagi, and punching him. him carrying usagi back to base. seven minutes remaining. him hearing a faint banging of a shipment container. finding tatta attempting to break his arm to get the wristband off. tatta telling him to do it instead so they win the game. his conversation with kyuma. five minutes remain. one last handshake. five hundred points to the player team. kyuma’s body falling into the ocean. the blimp exploding. tatta bleeding out. niragi leaving once more.

he remembered kuina leaving in search of chishiya and an. scavenging for food with usagi. hunting rabbits. having… fun. finding kaito bleeding out in front of his rv. his makeshift darkroom. an on the tape. the fireworks – meteorite he guesses now. the king of spades showing up. them running. losing each other. him running into something and passing out. waking up and meeting heiya. meeting aguni again. going over aguni’s plan to defeat the king of spades. getting separated from them. looking for usagi.

he remembered finally finding usagi – finding her with kota. he remembered risa. checkmate. queen of spades. two teams. sixteen rounds, five minutes each. gather members on your team by pressing the buttons on their vest. the team with the most members clears the game. nineteen out of twenty survivors. queen’s team: four players. challenger’s team: sixteen players. round one. queen team’s turn. queen’s team: nine players. challenger’s team: eleven players. round two. challenger’s turn. no change in score. round three. round four. round five. round six, seven, eight, nine. queen’s team: fourtee. challenger’s team: six. round ten. challenger’s turn. his prior teammates running from him. no change in score. round eleven. queen’s turn. queen’s team: seventeen. challenger’s team: three – arisu, usagi, and kota. round twelve, thirteen. no changes. round fourteen. challenger’s turn. five minutes. three people back. one person back, and then… round fifteen. queen’s turn. one player lost. queen’s team: thirteen. challenger’s team: six. round sixteen. challenger’s turn. five minutes. the last five minutes. running. chasing. searching. two people back. one person back, and then two. then another, and another. round end. queen’s team: one player. challenger’s team: nineteen players. game cleared. risa jumping off of the railing. leaving the arena. finding the hot spring. the elephants. kissing usagi.

he remembered more games. and then… chishiya appearing. niragi. chisiya being shot. usagi showing up. niragi aiming for her. shooting niragi. chishiya… chishiya saving usagi’s life. the king of spades blimp flying above them. the gunshots. hiding the wounded men behind cars. his last conversation with chishiya. his last kiss with chishiya. finding kuina and an again. running from the king of spades. heiya and aguni finding them. kuina having a bomb chishiya made. when did he have time to do that? the drugstore across the street. fill it with gas so the explosion will be bigger. lure the king in, then boom. using hairspray as the fuel. everyone else distracting the king. everyone… on the floor; bodies filled with bullet holes. heiya. aguni. kuina. an. usagi. making the king chase him into the store. aguni using his last bit of strength to make sure that he went inside. setting off the bomb. the explosion. usagi still being alive.

he remembered leaving. helping usagi walk as they made their way to the last arena. mira. the queen of croquet. queen of hearts. clear condition: finish three sets of croquet without withdrawing. two out of three survivors. first set. second set. it was too simple. mira’s request to… have a tea break? their conversation. her lies. him aiming his shotgun at her. her manipulating him. making him believe he was imagining everything. that she was his psychiatrist, and he was hallucinating this world. most of that was a blur to him, but he remembered usagi’s words. her… actions. her snapping him out of it by harming herself. finishing the final set. mira being defeated – being eliminated. the final moment before he woke up in the real world. the announcement. the question of whether to accept or deny citizenship in the borderlands. declining.

he remembered everything.

© necrofage | tumblr

[vexxerveesvoice]

The Kabbalah of Writing: Chapter Three Writing Exercises

As a Jewish writer, I've been wanting to explore more about how to connect my writing to my spiritual and religious practices. As a first step towards this, once a week I will be responding to each of the writing exercises provided in Sherri Mandell's The Kabbalah of Writing. For the sake of being careful of copyright, I will not be posting the questions themselves. I encourage fellow Jewish writers to follow along.

Instead of including my free writing here, I will state that I've been writing "gunk" pages in my notebook every day for a while now to get the "gunk" out of my brain before sitting down to really write and it's been helping a lot. I've transitioned to having these be more morning pages instead of "gunk" pages directly before writing practice both to spread out my writing time and to allow myself to start the day fresh.

I wish I'd visited you in the hospital. The news of your death came to me as impersonally as it could have - an apologetic email from the school district, probably derived from a form letter for just such an occasion. I wish I'd taken the time to tell you how much you meant to me, how much your love and support and encouragement helped me along my journey as an artist and as a writer. I wish I didn't have to live with the guilt of knowing I never visited you one last time, the fact that I didn't have the courage to face you when you were dying. I wish I could have shared more life with you. I wish I could still go back to the old tech building and see you there, in walking student artwork to your little orange car to arrange at art shows around the county. I wish you were here. I wish you could see how much I've changed, how much I've matured, how much I've grown since you last saw me. I wish I could hear you say you're proud of me. I wish I could hug you one last time. I hope you know how much you're missed. I hope you can see us still and that you know how much we care. I hope you know I see you at every art show and festival, every time I pick up a pencil or paintbrush. I hope you know you are loved and deeply, deeply missed. I just wish I could tell you in person.

What I didn't say was "thank you." Or at least, I didn't thank you enough. Gangly children squashed into blue plastic seats, huddled in on ourselves in our jackets for warmth in the poorly-heated morning ride to school. You handed me a little gift bag full of your homemade cookies, wrapped closed with a ribbon and a beaming smile. I never appreciated you enough. We ended up in vastly different social circles, years later, but you never failed to extend me invitations to parties or conversation. You shined brighter than the meteorites you wanted to watch on that school rooftop. What I didn't say was "I wish I'd gotten to know you better." "You were the kindest person I've ever met." "I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend to you." "I wish I could have told you how much you and your cookies meant to me."

In another life, I would have gone to Kenyon College. I would have pursued writing full time. I would have never lost my voice to you to begin with. I never would have sequestered myself and my heart to a tiny portion of my life and twisted what remained to fit into a puzzle piece beside your own, only to be discarded when I couldn't fit quite well enough. I would have applied to Ivy Leagues, just to prove that I could, that I was smart. I love the friends I gained following the path that I did, but I regret not sticking to myself and what I knew I wanted out of life. I have no one to blame but myself, but I hope you know what I sacrificed to make you even the slightest bit happier. I hope you know what I lost to keep you. Now I question if it was even worth it to begin with.

I wish the cedars grew as wide as before. I wish the salmon spawned in their home rivers. I wish the rain fell as often as it used to. I wish this town didn't grow half so big. I wish I could make even a tiny difference to shift the terrible future we face. I wish I didn't feel so guilty just for being part of the human race.

In my father's other life, he owned a ice cream shop bookstore and wrote children's books on the side. In my father's other life, I started working at the shop as a teenager, learning the ropes to take over when he retired. In my father's other life, he volunteered to teach students how to read at the local elementary school. In my father's other life, he had enough time to sleep more than four hours per night. In my father's other life, he never had to move back to the east coast for his wife. In my father's other life, he had the time, space, and resources to air his grievances healthily, through therapy or journaling or something other than bottling things up forever.

I tore the pencil-scratch letter from my little, child-sized notebook, a plea for help and understanding from parents who couldn't see the intense suffering, confusion, and loss I felt. I slipped it beneath your closed bedroom door, hoped for the best, and turned back to my room, closing my own door. Or did I leave the note beneath a closed door? It felt more like leaving a small offering at a solid stone wall, hoping that a deity beyond understanding, beyond reach, beyond words or touch or anything human, would come down from on high and grant forgiveness, peace, a hug, anything to soothe the brokenness I felt. I see you now, all these years later. I see that your note went ignored. I see that you went ignored. I see that your parents abandoned you at a time when you felt most vulnerable. I see the solid wall standing between you and them, that you still have yet to fully deconstruct. I see your pain, and I want you to know that you are loved.

A writer sits in the corner of the cafe, twirling a pen between their fingers. They've paused in their reflection, mind empty. "What're you up to this time?" The barista smiles, cleaning the espresso machine's milk frother. "Anything interesting?" "Oh, not really," the writer stretches. "The words aren't coming to me today." "That's a shame. Anything I could read this time?" The writer glances down at their barely-scrawled-upon page. "Not really, unfortunately. And what's here is all nonsense anyway." "Well, I doubt that. Your standards tend to be higher than mine," the barista raises an eyebrow. "Care to share a bit?" The writer bites their lip, just a bit, but acquiesces. They read the paragraph or two they've managed to produce, tone hushed so as not to disturb the other patrons, and glance nervously back up at the barista, who hums thoughtfully. "Well? What do you think?" "You've definitely got something there," the barista nods, then walks out from behind the counter. "Let me take a closer look." The writer passes the notebook and pen over nervously. The barista taps the pen against the page, jots a few notes, and hands the materials back. The writer takes in a sharp inhale, reading over what the barista had written. "You just solved my whole problem. Thank you." "Not at all! Glad to be of help. Would you like a top-up?" "Not yet - I've got to get things down on paper before they leave me." The writer beams, twirls the pen one last time, and begins vigorously writing again.

I'm sorry that I couldn't support you as a partner. I'm sorry to have abandoned you when you needed me most. I'm sorry to have hesitated when you asked for my help at your most vulnerable.

Dear S, I'm sorry that I didn't keep in touch with you. You were my strongest friend. I'm proud of the work we did together and grateful for the time we spent by each other's sides. I wanted to stay in contact, but I think somewhere along the line the magic died, even though we didn't want it to. I hope we can reconnect someday. I miss you and hope you're well.

Dear L, I'm sorry that I stopped putting in effort to keep our body well somewhere along the line. You're resilient for staying alive and as well as you have been for so long despite the difficulties I've presented you. Thank you for being patient and forgiving of my missteps. Thank you for surviving. I'm grateful you've given me grace and so many chances to make up for lost time.

I love acting I love swimming I love taking care of my body I love sweet things I love being human I love reading I love writing I love hanging out with my siblings I love volunteering I love caramel macchiatos and london fogs I love colorful pens and fun stickers I love planners and journals I love books I love the mountains I love the Puget Sound I love cedar forests and dear reader I love you.

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

15 and 26 for the fic writer asks!! 🧡

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

I feel like I took a real cop-out with this for my long fic because so far each chapter is a little bit in the future from where the last chapter left off so I figured out ooh, I can just make each chapter the year and month it is which is good, because I don't know how I would have come up with 45 cool chapter titles lol

Although even saying that, I always remember YA books that had fun chapter titles when I was a kid, so I feel I either go kind of descriptive and look at them later and go wow those are STUPID or I'll try and be too clever (like I have a fic with three chapters where each chapter in a line from an All-American Rejects song lol)

Titles are very hit or miss for me; like my long fic for the first say 20ish chapters had a different title and then one day I was like this title is dumb and changed it and was like oh... I can just change it? I can DO that?!

Like there are a couple of finished fics I would like to go back and change the title/chapter titles on now but I woudln't change anything else on the fic so it would seem like a waste... I've been lucking out with the TK and cute animals series that usually while I'm writing them I'll think of the title-

I do have one fic I thought of the title before I had started the fic lol.

Edit- I just realize that I in fact suck and only answered one of yours- I’m so sorry my mind is like cheese at this point- and Pumpkin came up behind me in the kitchen and I stepped on her tiny paw and she’s fine BUT I FEEL BAD NOW!

26. Is there something that you’ve written that you would never want your family to see?

There is! (And this is coming from a weirdo who has shown my long fic to family members- thankfully they lost interest lol)

But I wouldn’t want them to see any of my discipline Tarlos fics- like I enjoy writing those very very much but please don’t ask me to explain why- and the thought of anyone I’m related to seeing those and wanting to talk about it- like meteorite please 🫣🫣

Thank you for the ask bestie 💝💝 And I’m so sorry I didn’t answer both in the first try!!

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 19: THE GODS VOTE HOW TO KILL US

"Very appropriate, didn't the Greeks invent democracy?" Magnus snorted.

"I hope they at least throw in some variety," Alex said. "Nobody ever talks about death by studying, death by laughter, death by meteorite hurtling down and hitting just one person."

"Now I'm over here wondering which god should I want to be least creative in the killings," Percy muttered.

"They clearly vote about as well as they react to news," Jason said, the saltiness in his voice surprising them. As fidgety as he'd been about Zeus in particular, it seemed strange he seemed so harsh on apparently fixing to get a good glimpse into them doing, well, anything of potential value.

Not that Percy considered his coming death, again, a potential value, but it was a heck of a lot more than sitting on his throne like the last time he'd been in Zeus's chamber.

Unless it wasn't Zeus at all, but that seemed like a slim chance. Clearly they were off to this acclaimed Winter Solstice Artemis was going to be so vital for.

He hoped she didn't vote to kill them after he'd just saved her life, she'd never called him a brave man then!

Flying was bad enough for a son of Poseidon, but flying straight up to Zeus's palace, with thunder and lightning swirling around it, was even worse.

"It's like playing ding-dong-ditch and being surprised when he blasts you out of the sky," Alex agreed.

"Thankfully didn't happen," Percy said, looking a little pale as he closely inspected his arms to make sure of that one.

We circled over midtown Manhattan, making one complete orbit around Mount Olympus. I'd only been there once before, traveling by elevator up to the secret six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building.

"I don't know why I thought you had to get in that way all the time," Magnus admitted. "I thought you three and those pegasi were going to squeeze into that tiny metal box and it was just going to magically expand for you."

"I imagine that guy in the lobby would throw his book at us if we tried," Percy shook his head. At least he got to skip the crappy elevator music and growing sense of inescapable dread. This did not feel any better though.

This time, if it was possible, Olympus amazed me even more.

"It had a pottery table this time?" Alex asked eagerly.

"I mean, I personally would have gone with world peace, but that sounds like a cool second," Thalia said with a twitching smile.

"Knowing Percy, it was flatscreen TVs and they installed a skate park," Will grinned.

"You say that like it wouldn't be amazing to have at camp," Percy grinned.

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus.

The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn't seem to exist here. I caught the scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter things I couldn't name. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

Our pegasi set us down in the outer courtyard, in front of huge silver gates. Before I could even think to knock, the gates opened by themselves.

Jokes aside, nobody looked particularly happy the home of the Gods seemed in full party mode. Zoe had just died on behalf of a war none of them even seemed concerned about.

Nico wondered if his dad had already overseen Bianca's passing through his place and moved on by that time to the same old bitter comments about how he wasn't allowed in on the cool god's stuff.

Good luck, boss, Blackjack said.

"Yeah." I didn't know why, but I had a sense of doom. I'd never seen all the gods together.

"That seems like a pretty good reason to me," Jason shivered into his chair for a moment.

"Make sure you mark that one in your diary, finally admitting I had one of those," Percy grinned. Jason rolled his eyes but then theatrically clicked an imaginary pen and scribbled something down just to keep Will laughing an extra second before he continued.

I knew any one of them could blast me to dust, and a few of them would like to.

"Does that finally sound like a good reason why you shouldn't have been making enemies with them?" Thalia asked without any hope.

"I still don't hear how it would have helped me to fake it either," Percy frowned, not entirely convinced even his dad would step in to stop it from happening. Maybe it just would have caused a few extra rainy days and a hundred years or so of annoyance at whoever did it before he was forgotten.

Hey, if ya don't come back, can I have your cabin for my stable?

"Percy, why aren't you sharing with him now?" Magnus chuckled at his very highly raised eyebrow. "I thought you'd be lonely in there without Tyson."

Percy mock considered for a moment before deciding, "he wouldn't hold up his end of the chores."

I looked at the pegasus.

Just a thought, he said. Sorry.

Blackjack and his friends flew off, leaving Thalia, Annabeth, and me alone. For a minute we stood there regarding the palace, the way we'd stood together in front of Westover Hall, what seemed like a million years ago.

Thalia made a soft hum of appreciation as she considered the things that changed and the things that would always be the same. She believed she and Percy would have always become friends, but that quest had solidified it.

If Annabeth had never gone missing though, maybe Percy wouldn't have foisted himself on this quest. Maybe a different Prophecy would have been spewed from the get go, and they never would have crossed the land without rain because Aprohite had dumped them in the middle of it.

There were to many factors, to many threads the Fates were always weaving about, but Thalia still vividly remembered standing on one side of Annabeth in that moment and feeling confident about the direction her life was going for the first time since she'd woken up.

And then, side by side, we walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoe the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall, and I'm telling you, if you've ever had a dozen all-powerful super-huge beings turn their eyes on you at once... Well, suddenly, facing monsters seemed like a picnic.

"Coming from a guy who's never been on a picnic, I don't know how to feel about that," Alex said without to much concern as she scratched at her nose.

Percy's mind immediately swiveled to wondering if he and Annabeth had ever been on one and he denied answering.

"Welcome, heroes," Artemis said.

"Mooo!"

"Was that supposed to be Ceres?" Jason asked. He seemed to have developed a nervous tick all his own as he winced over every other word like he still expected to be eviscerated on the spot for hearing of all this. Sacred, not meant for the ears of followers... but he was also smiling like a maniac and drinking in every word like Percy was holding him in place against his will.

"I was personally thinking of Ares, but I don't think that matches either," Percy shrugged all the same, though his mind lingered on Hera for some reason. Hadn't Annabeth once mentioned she liked cows?

That's when I noticed Bessie and Grover.

The collective smile of relief around the room gave Will an extra loud pitch to his voice as he continued. He was actually shouting reading in happiness for a second when he'd known that the whole time, it was just his particular weird joy about everybody being happy of the same thing.

Nico smiled to himself as he watched, the loudness of it right next to his ear not bothering him in the slightest. He wondered if that was an Apollo thing, or a Will thing, before the smile slipped off his face it would never be a him thing. Even if he had somehow managed to make a friend, it already seemed doomed against lasting.

A sphere of water was hovering in the center of the room, next to the hearth fire. Bessie was swimming happily around, swishing his serpent tail and poking his head out the sides and bottom of the sphere. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of swimming in a magic bubble.

Alex chuckled with particular affection for that description and wondered if she could turn into Bessie, before the concerning reminder again flitted through she couldn't shape-shift in this place. She twitched unpleasantly and wanted to believe it was just a part of keeping the gods away. It wasn't a payoff she'd ever ask for Loki never visiting her dreams, but so long as it wasn't permanent and Oceanus wasn't trying to take away her gender fluidity, she wasn't going to freak out about it.

Grover was kneeling at Zeus's throne, as if he'd just been giving a report, but when he saw us, he cried, "You made it!"

He started to run toward me, then remembered he was turning his back on Zeus, and looked for permission.

Alex, Magnus, Percy, and Thalia all bristled at that, even if they knew they'd have done the exact same thing for fear of being blasted if they didn't. It was a principle of theirs, they didn't ask for permission to leave someone who they didn't respect.

"Go on," Zeus said. But he wasn't really paying attention to Grover. The lord of the sky was staring intently at Thalia.

Grover trotted over. None of the gods spoke. Every clop of Grover's hooves echoed on the marble floor. Bessie splashed in his bubble of water. The hearth fire crackled.

Magnus winced a little at his friend's name casually dropped in there and wondered yet again if he and Blitz were okay. He still felt like a jerk for not going back with him, and he hadn't even gotten to meet Annabeth for staying!

I looked nervously at my father, Poseidon. He was dressed similar to the last time I'd seen him: beach shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sandals.

Will grinned in surprise and shuffled his feet around in amusement, the fwip-thwap of his shoes making an obvious noise. The next time somebody told him Demigods should wear proper foot attire at all times, Chiron!, he'd just casually mention he was inspired by Percy's dad!

He had a weathered, suntanned face with a dark beard and deep green eyes. I wasn't sure how he would feel about seeing me again, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with smile lines. He nodded as if to say It's okay.

Grover gave Annabeth and Thalia big hugs. Then he grasped my arms. "Percy, Bessie and I made it! But you have to convince them! They can't do it!"

Percy didn't even get a second to be pleased Grover was deferring to him to fix this like Thalia wasn't there, this most certainly wasn't in his skill level!

He was plenty freaked out he was being asked to convince anyone of anything! The last time he'd been there he hadn't even convinced Zeus Kronos was on the rise. He hadn't convinced Zoe not to throw him under the bus as she drove off until he saved her life! He didn't even know how he'd convinced Mr. D not to throw him off a roof?!

Annabeth would be able to do it, he realized with a soothing sense of warmth passing through him.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Heroes," Artemis called.

The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward us, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

There had been no hint of the tears on her face for her lost lieutenant. All traces of her recent imprisonment might as well have been a figment of their imagination, as cold and impartial as the Goddess Percy had first met.

She didn't have to shrink down to their level to talk to them though. She hadn't needed to leave her throne to address them, and Percy found himself smiling at her the same way he had his dad even if he didn't appreciate the business like manner of it.

"The Council has been informed of your deeds," Artemis told us. "They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas's attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act."

"Finally," Percy said none-to-bitterly. A sentiment shared by everyone else even as they winced and expected Percy to start melting before their eyes for his impertinent side against every immortal at once.

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the gods, as if they weren't all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

"I would have sacrificed so many lion coats to have been there to see that," Percy said with a vindictive smile. He wanted to know which gods had eaten crow for not believing him in the first place, to watch Artemis tell them where they could shove it if anyone like Zeus himself had still tried to deny it.

"At my Lord Zeus's command," Artemis said, "my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans' cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea.

There was still a current of unease drifting about the room at all of these declarations that should have had them celebrating. Annabeth's gruesome confidence Luke was still alive nagged in the back of Jason's mind. The full might of the Gods should have been the most powerful thing, but somehow it didn't feel very impressive coming from these gods.

He tried to shake off such thoughts, but there was something about getting an even stranger taste of California that left him more frazzled than ever having these guys constantly described like somebody was trying to build an essential puzzle from the inside out.

And as for you, my heroes..."

She turned to face the other immortals. "These half-bloods have done Olympus a great service. Would any here deny that?"

She looked around at the assembled gods, meeting their faces individually. Zeus in his dark pin-striped suit, his black beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes sparking with energy. Next to him sat a beautiful woman with silver hair braided over one shoulder and a dress that shimmered colors like peacock feathers. The Lady Hera.

Jason looked very much like someone had taken his face off and put it on backwards. From the very beginning and now more defined than ever, there had been something so, off about these gods. He sympathized with Magnus a lot in this moment, he wanted to rant and scream at the world none of this made sense, even if none of it truly came as a shock to him.

On Zeus's right, my father Poseidon. Next to him, a huge lump of a man with a leg in a steel brace, a misshapen head, and a wild brown beard, fire flickering through his whiskers. The Lord of the Forges, Hephaestus.

Hermes winked at me. He was wearing a business suit today, checking messages on his caduceus mobile phone. Apollo leaned back in his golden throne with his shades on. He had iPod headphones on, so I wasn't sure he was even listening, but he gave me a thumbs-up.

Dionysus looked bored, twirling a grape vine between his fingers. And Ares, well, he sat on his chrome-and-leather throne, glowering at me while he sharpened a knife.

On the ladies' side of the throne room, a dark-haired goddess in green robes sat next to Hera on a throne woven of apple-tree branches. Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. Next to her sat a beautiful gray-eyed woman in an elegant white dress. She could only be Annabeth's mother, Athena. Then there was Aphrodite, who smiled at me knowingly and made me blush in spite of myself.

All the Olympians in one place. So much power in this room it was a miracle the whole palace didn't blow apart.

Magnus still felt a weird disconnect at moments like this. To know he was, however distantly, related to these primordial beings through his cousin. To wonder vaguely who his own dad was. How none of this should be possible, because if it was the world was an even more screwed up place than he'd originally, bitterly thought it was for his mom being dead. For the countless things he saw every day that literal gods just, didn't seem to care enough to fix.

Percy met his eyes, and a flash of understanding passed between them. The anger and bitterness would linger, but the only 'solution' in sight felt like Luke's way. Magnus made the sign for hope his elf best friend had taught him. He didn't even know what he was hoping for exactly.

"I gotta say"—Apollo broke the silence—"these kids did okay." He cleared his throat and began to recite: "Heroes win laurels—"

"Um, yes, first class," Hermes interrupted, like he was anxious to avoid Apollo's poetry.

"I find myself not hating him for putting you on that Ship of Doom anymore," Alex expressed as if this would be a great letdown on Percy's part.

"I wasn't, really holding a grudge," Percy brushed at his hair in relief it had been any God to have derailed Apollo from that. He would have even said a silent thank you to Ares!

"All in favor of not disintegrating them?"

A few tentative hands went up—Demeter, Aphrodite.

"Disintegration? Really? That's the big vote?" Alex still looked deeply disappointed on their lack of creativity.

"He said not disintegrating them," Thalia cheerfully reminded, "so they're not even doing to good a job on kill votes anyways."

"One of these days I'm going to find a normal person who doesn't think these blasted chapter titles should be discussed every other paragraph," Percy huffed.

"Good luck with that," Will scoffed.

"Wait just a minute," Ares growled. He pointed at Thalia and me. "These two are dangerous. It'd be much safer, while we've got them here—"

Percy was already reaching for his pen, his mouth opening in dire protest that would surely get him disintegrated on the spot, vote or no vote. It was his curse that had sealed Zoe's fate! If Ares wanted another go, Percy was all to happy to give it to him with a live audience!

"Ares," Poseidon interrupted, "they are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits."

"Nor my daughter," Zeus grumbled. "She has done well."

Thalia still felt a proud smile creep across her face and the smallest hint of a blush. This was one of the two times she'd ever met her father. Far be it from him condemning her to Ares or Athena's warning, he had praised her!

It still didn't entirely erase the unease she felt, now stronger than ever as she kept a constant glance on Jason lest he vanish again.

Zeus could just as easily have thrown that bolt on that mountainside and still done an about-face to praise her for not destroying the Gods. She feared what he'd let happen to his own son...but Jason wasn't Zeus's son.

She sighed and traced the links around her bracelet, cross-examining and probing everything she'd thought she'd ever known. How was replenishing Percy's past only dragging her own into question?

Thalia blushed. She studied the floor. I knew how she felt. I'd hardly ever talked to my father, much less gotten a compliment.

Percy gave her a rousing clap on the shoulder though and grinned broadly around the room so that everyone could bask in his good mood for just a minute, and she smiled willingly along. Whatever answers she found, it could only help.

She snorted and shook her head as she looked wistfully beyond Percy to where Annabeth should be. Those two were a bad influence on her punk-rock motif.

The goddess Athena cleared her throat and sat forward. "I am proud of my daughter as well. But there is a security risk here with the other two."

"Ouch!" Magnus yelped. "No help from where I thought you'd get." Annabeth had warned all the way back then though Athena and Poseidon didn't get along, her initial dislike of Percy. Guess they were about to get that in vivid display.

"Mother!" Annabeth said. "How can you—"

Athena cut her off with a calm but firm look. "It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon,

Percy still made a puckering face everybody kept reminding of how they were all related though. He'd be much happier forgetting titles like that.

chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic.

Percy winced so hard bubbles made a little exclamation mark of pain over his head and then shot straight into the ceiling, raining more dust and only one chunk of marble down that landed in the middle. Percy kept his eyes solely focused on that, terrified if he even flicked his eyes to the kid that could summon ghosts he'd lose it all over again!

Nico had winced exactly the same, but he went too still, frozen in place like he still expected someone to lunge at his throat.

Thalia laughed and said, "thanks Percy, I'll need that later when I want to break your face instead."

Will made a soft, humming noise in the back of his throat Nico found soothing, it chased the chill away and finally clicked somewhere in the back of his mind how Will kept doing that without healing him.

"Athena is seriously pushing everybody's buttons today," Jason murmured for himself, flipping his coin through his fingers in thought. 

Athena, Greek goddess of Wisdom, didn't know. It was possible none of the gods even knew of who Nico and Bianca were.

It was a question that had been on his mind back during the first book, if Zeus had known of Percy's lineage before Poseidon had claimed him, and it seemed not. Half-bloods could apparently go throughout life without even an infallible God really guessing...but the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Unlike the many feelings and vague notions he had about a handful of names and the state of California, this feeling left him sour and more confused than ever. He still didn't feel like he was getting anywhere close to figuring out what he was like before he lost his memories, and it was really starting to trouble him if he'd even be recognizable to a person he might have left behind when he finally figured out how to get back if he couldn't get a single solid scrap about himself down pat.

He felt defensive of Thalia. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover in particular all weirded him out if he thought about them to long. He loved to ask questions. These gods gave him a splitting headache.

That was it. The four defining things he could share with...he gave a dissatisfied sigh and shook out his head, concentrating on the book for now. It was pointless to keep pestering what he couldn't get an answer to for now.

He felt Thalia's troubled eyes on him though and spared her a brief smile and tried to relax back into his seat. The position felt unnatural, like his spine didn't know how to slouch, but she gave him a returning smile for the effort.

As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods... such as Thalia and Percy... are dangerous. As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point."

"It scares me a little to hear them agreeing actually," Will shivered. Annabeth and Clarisse were lethal enough on the rare game they decided to team up and get along, their parents would be a frightening thing.

Jason had his face so scrunched up he looked like he was trying to swallow his tongue. Everything about this place always felt like a mirror. So similar, so fundamentally different...

"Right!" Ares said. "Hey, wait a minute. Who you callin'—"

He started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

"Never would have pictured Mr. D for that whole safety first thing, but it feels right," Magnus snorted.

"Now if only he would strap in all the gods until they get the wine out of their ears and really listen," Alex nodded along.

"Oh, please, Ares," Dionysus sighed. "Save the fighting for later."

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. "You're one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?"

That was an awkward question that hung around every day at camp. Will fiddled with the page for a moment debating if he wanted to read the answer before he reminded himself it wasn't nice to Percy to skip regardless of his feelings.

Dionysus gazed down at us wearily. "I have no love for them. Athena, do you truly think it safest to destroy them?"

Percy and Thalia exchanged amused looks at that answer, however. Dionysius was an enigma wrapped in a bottle of vintage. For a god who had no love for them, he sure showed it in funny ways by distracting Ares and saving their life.

"I do not pass judgment," Athena said. "I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide."

"I will not have them punished," Artemis said. "I will have them rewarded. If we destroy heroes who do us a great favor, then we are no better than the Titans. If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it."

"Seriously, favorite goddess though," Alex said, but she seemed kind of annoyed about it still. The bar really wasn't that high in comparison of the others. Like she could trip over it.

"Calm down, sis," Apollo said. "Jeez, you need to lighten up."

"I feel like Apollo always says that before he throws a beam of sunlight at you," Jason said uneasily.

"And you're lucky if he remembers whether your mortal or not when he does," Thalia agreed in exasperation.

"Don't call me sis! I will reward them."

"None of us are arguing the point," Percy promised, but he still had a fidgety unease about him. The fact that she kept having to insist this made him worried what else had been debated before they showed up.

"Well," Zeus grumbled. "Perhaps. But the monster at least must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?"

A lot of nodding heads.

It took me a second to realize what they were saying. Then my heart turned to lead.

"Bessie? You want to destroy Bessie?"

"What did you think was going to happen when you sent the monster that could destroy them into their lair?" Jason tried really hard not to sound condescending.

"That they'd see the cute baby-cow serpent and give him some hay!" Percy yelped. "Maybe a good speech about staying away from the Minotaur until this war is over!" Percy still felt plenty condescended as he mind blanked on anything else he could have done. The local aquarium would probably be a little confused if he dropped off Bessie in a basket.

Jason kept the thought to himself Percy was being rather naïve.

"Mooooooo!" Bessie protested.

My father frowned. "You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?"

"The highlight of my day," Alex still promised.

"Your dad's probably just jealous he didn't get to name him, I bet they're buddies and he builds Bessie an awesome barn," Will chuckled.

"Dad," I said, "he's just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can't destroy him."

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably. "Percy, the monster's power is considerable. If the Titans were to steal it, or—"

"You can't," I insisted. I looked at Zeus. I probably should have been afraid of him, but I stared him right in the eye.

Nico's dreams had indulged many a fantasy his waking mind would never allow. A shiver passed through him as he heard the whispers of one of his most recent ones in that. Percy and him uniting with Hades to overthrow this guy once and for all. Percy cutting off Zeus's head as lightning crackled around with no effect and smiling only for him. Creating actual balance for all...

"Controlling the prophecies never works. Isn't that true? Besides, Bess—the Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It's just as wrong as... as Kronos eating his children, just because of something they might do. It's wrong!"

"Chiron owes you an A+ just for the execution of that," Jason grinned.

"Only took me twelve years to get that on one test," Percy smiled.

Zeus seemed to consider this. His eyes drifted to his daughter Thalia. "And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast's entrails, you would have the power to destroy us. Do you think we can let that possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn sixteen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says."

"Thank you for the exposition dump nobody needed," Thalia said with an uneasy scowl. He'd just complimented her for not taking that opportunity!

"You have to trust them," Annabeth spoke up. "Sir, you have to trust them."

Zeus scowled. "Trust a hero?"

The fact that this seemed like such a foreign idea to him grated on all of them badly. Were they nothing more than pawns and errand runners? This guy was supposed to be better than Kronos, right? 

"Does he not trust his own daughter, the greatest hero in that room?" Percy demanded of the salt around them, fire in his eyes.

Thalia just shook her head in amusement and waved Will on, touched but also pleased he'd held that in back in the throne room. She was worried this room was giving him too loose a tongue, and by the time they got back he'd have some massive brawl with the first god he laid eyes on.

"Annabeth is right," Artemis said. "Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one. But first, Father Zeus, I must speak to you privately."

"Did she need his permission before asking you officially?" Jason asked.

"It's polite, and we don't want to offend Zeus if we're sane," she said with a pointed look at Percy who had a shoe propped up on his knee and was fidgeting with his shoelaces in mild boredom.

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward. He leaned down and listened as she spoke in his ear.

A feeling of panic seized me. "Annabeth," I said under my breath. "Don't."

Percy's jaw was locked tight enough to crack whale bones as he kept twisting the aglet on his shoe as tight as it would go and then slowly letting it unwind in his hand, repeating the motion over and over and concentrating on just that. Gods he did not want her to go, but apparently, in her mind he was no better than Luke and he'd never given her a reason to stay...

She frowned at me. "What?"

"Honestly Percy, haven't you learned by now telling someone not to do something just makes them want to more," Thalia agreed in an obnoxiously cheerful tone to Percy's ears. Percy had somehow managed to tangle his laces together into a knot.

Nico bit his lip hard to stop himself laughing she was almost mocking the poor guy, because she knew how it worked out. He danced with the idea for just a split second if he'd ever have had a shot if Annabeth did join and leave Percy broken hearted, but then he remembered he was still down at Camp waiting like a dumbass, probably playing in the mud like a toddler for everyone to come back and tell him the coolest story ever. He didn't know how it would have gone worse than that day, but this turn of events couldn't have made any of it better.

"Look, I need to tell you something," I continued. The words came stumbling out of me. "I couldn't stand it if... I don't want you to—"

Every sappy love song his mother had ever sang to herself, every poem he'd heard snippets of in his life, every flash of seeing her from that first day to this moment raced through his mind in a dizzying, sickening swirl. He wondered if this is how getting punched by Cupid felt.

He loved her. That's what it all boiled down to. He didn't know how or when exactly it had happened, but she was about to run off and never come back again and this time he couldn't save her.

"Percy?" she said. "You look like you're going to be sick."

And that's how I felt. I wanted to say more, but my tongue betrayed me. It wouldn't move because of the fear in my stomach. And then Artemis turned.

"I shall have a new lieutenant," she announced. "If she will accept it."

"No," I murmured.

"Thalia," Artemis said. "Daughter of Zeus. Will you join the Hunt?"

Thalia mock wiped a tear away as Percy jumped so bad he fell out of his seat. "Did you just forget I existed for a few moments there kelp head?"

Percy looked up at her sheepishly. Obviously, he hadn't, he'd just been convinced Annabeth had gone with her. Annabeth was the obvious first choice to him to any question. He still wasn't convinced that hadn't happened and swallowed his stomach full of nerves he was about to blurt all of that out to her any second and she'd laugh in his face.

Stunned silence filled the room. I stared at Thalia, unable to believe what I was hearing.

Annabeth smiled. She squeezed Thalia's hand and let it go, as if she'd been expecting this all along.

"We'd talked about it, before," Thalia admitted to them. "I asked her if the Hunt had ever bothered her in recent times and she admitted Zoe had been around, given her the pamphlet and the spiel just before school started. I wasn't happy and wanted to summon that pretentious princess and tell her where she could shove that pamphlet," the amount of affection she managed to say for Zoe couldn't be denied as she smiled, "but instead, Annabeth and I, talked." She finished with an exhausted sigh. Her little sister had been so terrified of losing her to the Prophecy she'd kept that flier in hopes Thalia would just consider it, and it had been in the back of her mind this whole quest. Losing Luke like that had just solidified everything for her in this moment Annabeth had been right about her all along and what she really needed, as usual.

"I will," Thalia said firmly.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. "My daughter, consider well—"

"Father," she said. "I will not turn sixteen tomorrow. I will never turn sixteen. I won't let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will never tempt me again."

She knelt before the goddess and began the words I remembered from Bianca's oath, what seemed like so long ago.

Nico sniffed quietly beside Will and tried to tell himself one more time it was over. Bianca's life had come full circle and he had to stop dwelling on her doing the very same. Percy wasn't holding a grudge for Thalia abandoning him to the Prophecy.

"I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men..."

Afterward, Thalia did something that surprised me almost as much as the pledge. She came over to me, smiled, and in front of the whole assembly, she gave me a big hug.

I blushed.

When she pulled away and gripped my shoulders, I said, "Um... aren't you supposed to not do that anymore? Hug boys, I mean?"

"I'm honoring a friend," she corrected. "I must join the Hunt, Percy. I haven't known peace since... since Half-Blood Hill. I finally feel like I have a home. But you're a hero. You will be the one of the prophecy."

"A few more hours," Percy still griped, just a bit. "Couldn't you have waited just a few more hours to go through with this? Maybe this was the decision that saved Olympus." He looked more resigned and exasperated than truly frustrated with her though.

Thalia gave him a sad, weak smile. Percy had just said it himself, trying to control the prophecy into the outcome she wanted would never have worked. There had been no world of endless sleep on the top of Mount Tam, but really, maybe that line could have applied to Zoe falling to an endless sleep at the feet of her father holding the world. Maybe if she'd hesitated a moment longer Luke would have made the same choice.

She just offered her hand to help Percy back into his seat and shrugged without answering. It was what it was, and they were here for Percy to remember that, not jump down every rabbit hole of what could have been.

"Great," I muttered.

"I'm proud to be your friend."

She hugged Annabeth, who was trying hard not to cry. Then she even hugged Grover, who looked ready to pass out,

"A small reminder dreams come true," Alex raised an unimpressed brow but snorted in delight all the same that had probably been his reward.

like somebody had just given him an all-you-can-eat enchilada coupon.

Then Thalia went to stand by Artemis's side.

Where she never thought she'd want to leave. Thalia still gave a forlorn sigh and shivered in her camo. Artemis would understand her desire to track down which god had done this to her brother, she was sure of it.

"Now for the Ophiotaurus," Artemis said.

"This boy is still dangerous," Dionysus warned. "The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—"

"No." I looked around at all the gods. "Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe.

"Not, no, no if's or ands about killing me after I saved your thrones, again! It's, no, don't hurt the baby cow serpent," Magnus repeated just in case they'd missed that.

"Are you that used to hearing everything twice? You weren't even signing when you said that," Percy rolled his eyes, clearly still not getting why the guy seemed astonished over that.

My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here in Olympus. But you have to protect him."

"And why should we trust you?" rumbled Hephaestus.

"Because he's asking you to protect him rather than using him to kill you all," Magnus said in a supremely, 'duh,' kind of voice.

"Because he named him Bessie!" Alex concluded as if this were the be all of points to make.

"Remind me to bring you two to the next meeting," Percy chuckled.

"I'm only fourteen," I said. "If this prophecy is about me, that's two more years."

Jason, Alex, and Magnus all studied Nico curiously for a few moments. The answer had always felt obvious it would be Percy, and yet Thalia and Nico had been thrown into the mix back to back.

Now with Thalia at forever fifteen, it did make Percy the oldest by default again...but Nico's age wasn't particularly obvious to them. He looked small and skinny, especially always so tucked tight down in his seat most of the time.

Did being pulled out of time, already making him pass his sixteenth birthday long ago leave him disqualified? There still seemed plenty of mystery left what the heck happened up there, or if it had even come to fruition yet.

"Two years for Kronos to deceive you," Athena said. "Much can change in two years, my young hero."

Percy's mind twinged painfully, scattered memories and feelings he yet had even the vaguest impression about. Rachel lingered oddly in his mind as he again looked to where she'd been sitting. He rubbed his temple and already knew Athena was annoyingly right about that.

"Mother!" Annabeth said, exasperated.

"It is only the truth, child. It is bad strategy to keep the animal alive. Or the boy."

"Wouldn't the best strategy be to have a counter in play," Magnus looked vaguely annoyed, and Percy didn't even have to pretend to not know why this time. "He's yet failed a quest, and they can't just keep pretending this prophecy won't happen forever. Wouldn't the strategic thing be to have a demigod on their side as badass as the one who's threatening Olympus?" Did they still not even consider Luke a real risk just because he wasn't a kid of three in particular?

Jason looked queasy. Arguing with a god, arguing with Minerva- Athena, ugh. He'd rather go back to laughing about Percy's hilariously inept ability to confess his undying love to Annabeth.

My father stood. "I will not have a sea creature destroyed, if I can help it. And I can help it."

He held out his hand, and a trident appeared in it: a twenty foot long bronze shaft with three spear tips that shimmered with blue, watery light. "I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus."

"Ooh, now we mean business," Alex said with a wild grin.

"Please don't encourage them," Thalia groaned.

"You won't take it under the sea!" Zeus stood suddenly. "I won't have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession."

"Brother, please," Poseidon sighed.

Zeus's lightning bolt appeared in his hand, a shaft of electricity that filled the whole room with the smell of ozone.

"No, no, now business will get done," Magnus chuckled, and Thalia sighed in defeat they were all doomed if Percy did try to smuggle them in.

"Fine," Poseidon said. "I will build an aquarium for the creature here. Hephaestus can help me. The creature will be safe. We shall protect it with all our powers.

"So now if Bessie gets hurt, the gods can all accuse each other and start another war, this doesn't sound like a better idea," Jason shook his head uneasily.

"I'll take the compromise of Bessie not being dead," Percy said with relief.

The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor."

A breath wooshed out of Percy like his dad had given him a bear hug. This was beyond just a compliment. This felt like something more. Trust.

Zeus thought about this. "All in favor?"

To my surprise, a lot of hands went up. Dionysus abstained. So did Ares and Athena. But everybody else...

"We have a majority," Zeus decreed. "And so, since we will not be destroying these heroes... I imagine we should honor them. Let the triumph celebration begin!"

"Just like that hu?" Alex did not look impressed. Probably because nobody was maimed.

"I'll take the win," Percy promised.

"The only person who got a reward was Thalia though," Will frowned on Percy and Annabeth's behalf. "And Grover, if you count him getting a hug from a Huntress finally, but Thalia gave him that." It really was no wonder Percy so often looked troubled at just the thought of his dad. No matter what he did, he couldn't even get offered a cool new skateboard or something?

"Trust me Will, I am plenty happy with how the day turned out," Percy insisted. Annabeth was okay! They both needed a serious nap, but after surviving, it was all the reward he would have wanted from this anyways.

There are parties, and then there are huge, major, blowout parties. And then there are Olympian parties. If you ever get a choice, go for the Olympian.

"Are you saying the college frat parties with cheap beer don't compare?" Nico snorted. At least there if you accidentally stepped on somebody's toga you didn't risk being blasted to ash.

"I wouldn't know, I've never been to one," Percy chuckled, snapping his fingers to a tune only in his head and looking longingly towards the other rooms again for the fridge and a bed with good arch support. What he really wanted now was this book to be over before anything else bad happened...then he realized who had said that to him and did a double take at Nico and swallowed awkwardly.

He was up on Olympus milling through the crowd to find Annabeth while Nico was back at Camp still waiting. A ghostly wail still made goose bumps across the back of his neck when he looked to long at him and wondered how the hell he'd ever explained all this to the kid back then.

He was at least smiling lightly right now, whispering quietly to Will for just a moment what other cliches that were worth finding and avoiding at parties, so Percy managed to push it away for a little while longer and pretend everything turned out fine.

The Nine Muses cranked up the tunes, and I realized the music was whatever you wanted it to be: the gods could listen to classical and the younger demigods heard hip-hop or whatever, and it was all the same sound track. No arguments. No fights to change the radio station. Just requests to crank it up.

"Please tell me your dad can install that at camp," Percy asked of Will. For some reason he had a Jessie McCartney song in his head.

"He does owe us a good spoil," Will agreed distractedly, he still hadn't even gotten Nico to admit if he'd ever even been to a party.

Dionysus went around growing refreshment stands out of the ground, and a beautiful woman walked with him arm in arm—his wife, Ariadne. Dionysus looked happy for the first time.

"It's a good thing nobody tried to drag that council meeting out longer, he might have voted on that death by homework after all," Thalia chuckled. He'd still managed to look as miserable and bored in the throne room as ever. What he'd really wanted was this time right here, as much of it as he could get before his banishment resumed.

Nectar and ambrosia overflowed from golden fountains, and platters of mortal snack food crowded the banquet tables. Golden goblets filled with whatever drink you wanted.

Grover trotted around with a full plate of tin cans and enchiladas, and his goblet was full of double-espresso latte, which he kept muttering over like an incantation: "Pan! Pan!"

"Good of him to keep his dreams alive," Jason said wearily.

"So long as he doesn't summon any more pigs," Percy agreed.

"I wonder what kind of creamer he thinks will help most with that," Alex chuckled.

Gods kept coming over to congratulate me. Thankfully, they had reduced themselves to human size, so they didn't accidentally trample partygoers under their feet. Hermes started chatting with me, and he was so cheerful I hated to tell him what had happened to his least favorite son, Luke, but before I could even get up the courage, Hermes got a call on his caduceus and walked away.

Percy was getting really good at pretending to himself that conversation was never going to happen either as he gave an uneasy smile and was glad that among the winces, nobody else wanted to linger on that either.

Apollo told me I could drive his sun chariot any time, and if I ever wanted archery lessons—

"Thanks," I told him. "But seriously, I'm no good at archery."

"Ah, nonsense," he said. "Target practice from the chariot as we fly over the U.S.? Best fun there is!"

A burning flare of jealousy lit Will at hearing that and Percy's nervous laugh as he looked wild-eyed at him to keep going. His dad had never offered him that, he hadn't offered it to any of his kids in years.

I made some excuses and wove through the crowds that were dancing in the palace courtyards. I was looking for Annabeth. Last I saw her, she'd been dancing with some minor godling.

Magnus yelped in fear, "gods tell me it wasn't Hercules!"

"No," Percy said forcefully at once, then added a great sigh of relief, he obviously would have dulled him to the death on the spot. That might have made Zeus mad, again, and he wanted that dance with Annabeth first. "I'm not sure who, couldn't guess from the dress, but I think she had something to do with fire? Annabeth seemed to know her," Percy said from the brief glimpse he'd seen.

Thalia smiled, and rolled her eyes at the idiot. It had been Hestia, how had he never stopped to see her at the Camp's hearth?

Then a man's voice behind me said, "You won't let me down, I hope."

I turned and found Poseidon smiling at me.

"Dad... hi."

"Hello, Percy. You've done well."

His praise made me uneasy. I mean, it felt good, but I knew just how much he'd put himself on the line, vouching for me. It would've been a lot easier to let the others disintegrate me.

"I won't let you down," I promised.

He nodded. I had trouble reading gods' emotions, but I wondered if he had some doubts.

Percy was still shuffling around, though now there was no beat in his head to go along. It felt stilted, he'd swear an organ was playing some haunted house music. Maybe with a hint of a light at the end of the tunnel though? Hopefully it wasn't a train.

"Your friend Luke—"

"He's not my friend," I blurted out. Then I realized it was probably rude to interrupt. "Sorry."

"Your former friend Luke," Poseidon corrected.

"You really did luck out with the best dad," Thalia told him with an uneasy sigh. Her dad hadn't sought out her at this party in their honor. He sure wouldn't have corrected himself, let alone not turned her into a flamingo if she interrupted in the first place.

"Seems like it," Percy agreed as he looked around fondly at the ocean floor.

"He once promised things like that. He was Hermes's pride and joy.

Jason shifted around uncomfortably as he wondered what had changed about all that. Had Hermes ever said anything like that to him? Had it been because he failed one quest and Hermes had moved on to another of his many kids? He stared down at the tattoo on his arm and wondered if his parent even knew he was missing, let alone cared.

Just bear that in mind, Percy. Even the bravest can fall."

"Luke fell pretty hard," I agreed. "He's dead."

"Percy, for the literal win," Magnus gave him an only half-sarcastic thumbs up while Percy mustered some kind of smile back. He'd said that explicitly so his dad would agree with him, maybe help Annabeth find some closure rather than her strange denial.

Poseidon shook his head. "No, Percy. He is not."

Percy seethed for several loud moments in his head about this. Looks like everybody got a reward tonight, whether they'd deserved it or not! He forced himself to keep paying attention though and didn't even consider taking back that thanks for his dad. Maybe Poseidon could finally answer why Luke seemed so unbeatable, practically an immortal himself!

I stared at him. "What?"

"I believe Annabeth told you this.

Was nothing sacred? There was an unhappy moment where they all exchanged uneasy looks for the God of the Ocean just, casually knowing that. Unless Blackjack had tattled on Percy, there seemed no good reason why he did.

Luke still lives. I have seen it. His boat sails from San Francisco with the remains of Kronos even now. He will retreat and regroup before assaulting you again.

"I do love his use of the word assaulting," Percy sighed, giving an imaginary thanks to his dad again for correctly pinning that word to his entire life.

I will do my best to destroy his boat with storms, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. They will fight to protect him."

"How can he be alive?" I said. "That fall should've killed him!"

Poseidon looked troubled. "I don't know, Percy, but beware of him. He is more dangerous than ever. And the golden coffin is still with him, still growing in strength."

"What about Atlas?" I said. "What's to prevent him from escaping again? Couldn't he just force some giant or something to take the sky for him?"

My father snorted in derision. "If it were so easy, he would have escaped long ago. No, my son. The curse of the sky can only be forced upon a Titan, one of the children of Gaia and Ouranous. Anyone else must choose to take the burden of their own free will. Only a hero, someone with strength, a true heart, and great courage, would do such a thing. No one in Kronos's army would dare try to bear that weight, even upon pain of death."

"Luke did it," I said. "He let Atlas go. Then he tricked Annabeth into saving him and used her to convince Artemis to take the sky."

"Yes," Poseidon said. "Luke is... an interesting case."

I think he wanted to say more, but just then, Bessie started mooing from across the courtyard. Some demigods were playing with his water sphere, joyously pushing it back and forth over the top of the crowd.

"The only way I can imagine a beach ball not being a fun and good distraction," Alex sighed.

"I'm just grateful for Poseidon's priorities," Will admitted, he'd want to go rescue the baby cow-serpent too.

Jason looked like he was slowly being crushed to death by the sky next at these inept versions of deities. Bessie had been in their care for mere hours and was already being mishandled like a toy!

"I'd better take care of that," Poseidon grumbled. "We can't have the Ophiotaurus tossed around like a beach ball. Be good, my son. We may not speak again for some time."

"Because once a year if you're lucky was already a luxury," Magnus muttered.

And just like that he was gone.

I was about to keep searching the crowd when another voice spoke. "Your father takes a great risk, you know."

I found myself face-to-face with a gray-eyed woman who looked so much like Annabeth I almost called her that.

"Athena." I tried not to sound resentful, after the way she'd written me off in the council, but I guess I didn't hide it very well.

She smiled dryly. "Do not judge me too harshly, half-blood. Wise counsel is not always popular, but I spoke the truth. You are dangerous."

Percy didn't look very pleased with that assessment and fidgeted on the spot as he imagined his dad now telling Annabeth she should chill out more and maybe drink a pina colada.

"You never take risks?"

She nodded. "I concede the point.

He looked just a bit proud of himself though he'd gotten the Goddess of wisdom to say that. Thalia sighed but let him have that win while he could.

You may perhaps be useful. And yet... your fatal flaw may destroy us as well as yourself."

Percy was aghast as he looked wildly around at Will now for him to scream 'gotcha!' He didn't even know what his fatal flaw was!

My heart crept into my throat. A year ago, Annabeth and I had had a talk about fatal flaws. Every hero had one. Hers, she said, was pride. She believed she could do anything... like holding up the world, for instance. Or saving Luke. But I didn't really know what mine was.

Athena looked almost sorry for me. "Kronos knows your flaw, even if you do not. He knows how to study his enemies. Think, Percy. How has he manipulated you? First, your mother was taken from you. Then your best friend, Grover. Now my daughter, Annabeth."

"Err," Magnus looked very concerned at that summary. "All of those were outside of Kronos's influence though...right?!" He remembered Hearth's guess about Luke somehow setting up Grover's initial escape from Polyphemus and felt miserable his friend wasn't around to be right, but that only made this feel all the more dangerous. If the Titan had really somehow set up, even in the smallest way possible, to influence Hades's taking Sally in that moment and Thorn dipping out with Annabeth meant they had vastly been underestimating just how much control the Crooked One had over every part of these stories.

Nobody answered him, not even Alex as she twisted her fingers into her hair and pulled uneasily, knowing all to well what kind of manipulation was being implied there.

She paused, disapproving. "In each case, your loved ones have been used to lure you into Kronos's traps.

"And the traps have failed every time," Jason reminded as he shifted around uneasily in his seat. That headache was back full force trying to imagine a conversation with Athena. Unlike with Ares, there wasn't a hint of confusion on his part how different she felt to her core, in every word she spoke.

Your fatal flaw is personal loyalty, Percy. You do not know when it is time to cut your losses. To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world. In a hero of the prophecy, that is very, very dangerous."

Will looked appalled those words had crossed his tongue, and he didn't need Percy shouting the book's next line to think it himself. The fine, slippery line of the butterfly effect of who was saved causing other events had nothing on the powers blessed by Apollo. The very defining trait of being a Hero was to stop and help without knowing the outcome. Sometimes that meant a god in disguise would give you immortality, and sometimes it meant you just assisted your worst enemy down the line.

I balled my fists. "That's not a flaw. Just because I want to help my friends—"

"The most dangerous flaws are those which are good in moderation," she said. "Evil is easy to fight. Lack of wisdom... that is very hard indeed."

I wanted to argue, but I found I couldn't. Athena was pretty darn smart.

Alex was more than happy to though. "She helped you rescue Annabeth though. If she's so sure trying your hardest to rescue those you care about has no greater purpose, why show up at all?"

"Because she would have cut her losses if it hadn't worked I guess," Magnus said hoarsely, his hands shaking in disgust. These gods really got worse and worse the more he heard of them, he couldn't imagine a parent trying to paint this in a bad light. He wondered how Athena felt about Annabeth's 'fatal flaw.' Was she proud wisdom's daughter needed to occasionally be reminded she couldn't do everything better than everyone around her?

They were so, alien. He was still dumbfounded over Zeus being surprised that he should trust a hero. These gods were so disconnected from the world, how on earth did they function within it?

"I hope the Council's decisions prove wise," Athena said. "But I will be watching, Percy Jackson. I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter. I do not think it wise for either of you. And should you begin to waver in your loyalties..."

She fixed me with her cold gray stare, and I realized what a terrible enemy Athena would make, ten times worse than Ares or Dionysus or maybe even my father. Athena would never give up. She would never do something rash or stupid just because she hated you, and if she made a plan to destroy you, it would not fail.

Percy's heart froze in his chest. The thrill of fear that lanced through him made any time before seem like a mild, silly fright.

Yet when he tentatively glanced over at Magnus, just daring himself to get it out of the way now so the color didn't shock him back to this feeling again later, he still saw the familiar grey color and smiled. Annabeth's cousin looked miffed at the threat and was signing something he couldn't hope to guess while Alex watched in avid detail and slowly mimicked him.

Annabeth was going to be so annoyed at him for being left out of every conversation that had gone on here, she loved to be involved and would have been happily leading each side's comment no matter how goofy to its best end. He couldn't wait to see her eyes spark on him again as she called him a seaweed brain for smiling like an idiot as Will uneasily cleared his throat and moved on.

"Percy!" Annabeth said, running through the crowd. She stopped short when she saw who I was talking to. "Oh... Mom."

"I will leave you," Athena said. "For now."

She turned and strode through the crowds, which parted before her as if she were carrying Aegis.

"I'd flee at the sight of any Olympian at this point, no magic shield required," Magnus promised.

"And that's how you know it's been a good party," Will snickered.

"Oh, fine, I'll attend one if you promise me at least one blood-curdling scream," Nico finally relented with the silent addendum he wasn't the reason for that happening.

Will gave him a wink, a cheeky little one that Nico had no idea what to make of.

"Was she giving you a hard time?" Annabeth asked.

"I don't know how to answer that," Jason said as he rubbed at his forehead with so much vigor he seemed to be trying to slowly peel off the flesh.

"I do," Percy said confidently even as he rubbed his chest to make sure his heart really was still beating.

"No," I said. "It's... fine."

"The only answer I would expect from you Percy," Thalia sighed. He'd be bleeding to death someday and promise he was fine while they dumped a bucket of water on him.

She studied me with concern. She touched the new streak of gray in my hair that matched hers exactly—our painful souvenir from holding Atlas's burden.

His hand moved, to creep up and brush at it now. He'd always felt tied to her, assuming it was from their very first quest. He'd never wanted their shared suffering to highlight it.

There was a lot I'd wanted to say to Annabeth, but Athena had taken the confidence out of me. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

Percy was still rubbing his stomach and well remembered the sentiment. Maybe he should carry a glass of water around with him for an extra shot of courage next time? He was now half convinced Annabeth had laughed herself stupid when she'd kissed him.

I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.

"So," Annabeth said. "What did you want to tell me earlier?"

"Please don't join the Hunters of Artemis because I'll somehow never be able to get through a quest without you," Alex chuckled.

"I missed you and dreamed about you so much I made a girl who loathes men befriend me," Magnus snorted.

"I love you," Jason said much more plainly with an exasperated look at the pair of them.

"Yeah, none of that, no," Percy was blushing a full neon red and stuttering even over that. He didn't think he'd be able to articulate her name if he even tried, and yet he didn't deny a word of any of that.

The music was playing. People were dancing in the streets. I said, "I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And... I think I owe you a dance."

She smiled slowly. "All right, Seaweed Brain."

So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too.

"Awww!" Will cooed so much Percy felt the need to check if he was stuck like that. "I knew I should have bid on you two getting together by the end of that summer! I would have won so many years off chores!"

"There was a bet?" Percy demanded.

Will whistled innocently like he hadn't heard that as he got up to hand the book to Jason while Percy tracked him the whole time like a predator. When Will sat back down and still hadn't answered Percy sighed and let it go, still brushing at his hair and replaying that song over and over in his head until the lyrics got stuck for the rest of this. It helped to memorize the warmth of her body against him he'd been so missing the entire time here.

[alienassistant]

Chapter 1

tw: medical imagery, needles, weapons

An alien is sent from their home planet due to committing crimes against the royal court of their home planet. This alien is encased through an artificial meteorite made of ice, which is quickly on course to Earth, where it crashes right next to a mysterious and tall building. The inhabitants of the building run out of the building as the alien crawls out of the ice. As the alien awakes from their slumber, they instantly become violent. Their seemingly human-esque hands quickly morph into large red-tinted claws, along with their teeth growing three times in size and sharpness. Horns that were once blunt and nearly incognito, cowering within the creatures ruffled and white hair, grow over 8 inches tall. This seemingly human-like creature has become a force to be reckoned with in a mere few seconds, yet the researchers aren’t stunned. Before the alien lunges at the scientists, a man pulls out a mysterious and large weapon, which resembles a bazooka with a much larger open end. In an instant, a large ball shoots from the weapon, in which it opens up into an electric-encased net. The alien struggles within the net, but it’s no use and they go unconscious. 

The aliens' eyes open slowly, with their vision slightly blurry before they eventually focus. A dull soreness lingers around their ear, to which they find a yellow tag on their earlobe. When they look around, they’re greeted by the scent of formaldehyde in the air, along with the familiar feeling of cold on their body. The environment is sterile and clean, yet oddly eerie. Inside of the room there’s nothing but smooth, white tile and a single camera on the ceiling. Instantly all the memories return to their mind: being encased in ice, crash-landing on a mysterious planet, and being hurt and captured by these weird creatures. They’re scared, worried, but most of all, furious. The alien instantly tries to find a way out, but this environment is completely unfamiliar. For some odd reason their teeth, horns, and claws won’t grow no matter how hard they try. Suddenly, two men in yellow hazmat suits and a doctor approach. A metal examination chair rises from underneath the alien, clamping onto their arms and legs. They try to struggle, but one of the men in the hazmat suits injects them with a needle, paralyzing them. Once the alien stops moving, the Doctor begins to speak.

Doctor: Good evening, I'm Dr. William. You might be confused on why you’re here, but first I need to assess your mental and physical capabilities as an organic creature. Sadly, this process may prove to be extremely painful for you, however I'm sure you’ve taken your fair share of beatings with the anatomy you have. You look so primitive, I doubt you can even understand this conversation.

Dr. William waswrong, the alien could understand every single word of the language he was speaking. But even though they could understand, they couldn’t speak the language itself, not without knowing the proper ways to contort their mouth. None of this was important right now though, the only thing on their mind was to escape as quickly as possible. Nothing could cross their mind until they’ve reached safety. Soon, an assistant wearing a surgical gown along with a respirator and medical cap enters through the door, bringing with her a rolling cart with various tools. On the cart contains several vials of mysterious serums, multiple wrapped 25-gauge needles, a small otoscope to examine the ears, a medical flashlight, gauze, rubbing alcohol, a scalpel, and a stethoscope. The assistant had a lifeless and depressing aura. Her skin was tanned with noticeable sunspots on her sunken cheeks, which was an unfamiliar sight to the alien. On their planet, there was nothing but heavy ice and snow pelting the ground, with a sky plagued with large, dark grey clouds. This weather never ceased, yet the humanoid species on the alien planet was accustomed to such conditions. Their skin was blubber-like and nearly 5-inches thick. Their skin was nearly bleached white due to zero contact with the sun. The aliens' eyebrows were nearly non-existent due to the lack of sweat being produced. 

Dr. William: Okay you three, you all need to be careful with this specimen, it’s already proven to be quite violent, so you need to be more attentive than usual. Don’t let your guard down, no matter what. I’ll be watching through the camera if anything goes wrong, but remember that if you mess this up, upper management will hear about you. They won’t hesitate to dispose of useless personnel.

The assistant looked nervous, becoming a little paler than she was before. She looked at the alien, and saw the look of fear and anger in their eyes, a look she’s seen many times.

Assistant: It never gets easier, does it?

Guard 1: It really doesn’t, I'm still squeamish looking at all these creepy things getting poked and prodded at.

Guard 2: Can you two shut the hell up already? Dr. William’s probably looking at the camera already. Let's just get this over with so we can move on and scrub this memory from our minds. Besides, why would you take this job if you didn’t want to see this crap?

Guard 1: Come on, this wasn’t in our job description and you know it.

Guard 2: Ugh, whatever.

The assistant looks visibly nervous. She’s examined hundreds of specimens, gotten her hands dirty with intergalactic blood. No matter how many times she does this to her “patients”, she never gets more comfortable doing it. Watching life form after life form growl and scream in unimaginable pain, a pain that they didn’t deserve. On one hand, she knows what happens if she backs out, but on the other hand, this alien was the most human one she’s seen so far.

Assistant: (They look almost like a real person from our planet. From careful observation, the only difference I notice is the odd pigmentation and the small, blunt horns on their head. I just can’t shake this tight feeling in my chest.)

She grabs what seems to be a mysterious liquid-filled vial. The label states in small, bold lettering “Lysergic Acid Diethylamide”. The alien doesn’t know what this is, but the assistant knows it very well, liquid LSD, a hallucinogen. She’s seen hundreds of aliens react in hundreds of different ways to this substance, which is why it’s used in every procedure. The assistant draws 5 cc’s from the vial with her syringe, and as she’s about to point the needle to the alien, she hesitates. Her body freezes and won’t let her move, no matter how much she tries to force it.

Guard 1: Hey, what's the holdup? I wanna go home, so just inspect the thing already!

In an instant, the assistant stabs the first guard with the needle and injects half of the LSD into his arm.

Guard 2: What the hell are you doing?! You’re going to get us all killed with this stupidity! Get over here!

The second guard tries to grab the syringe from the assistant's hand, but he’s too slow. The assistant makes a dive to the floor and stabs the syringe deep into the second guard's thigh. She quickly injects the rest of the LSD and gets up, there’s no time to hesitate, she knows Dr. William already sent more guards to the cell. Quickly, the assistant unlocks the cuffs to the chair, freeing the alien. She grabs onto the alien's wrist and pulls her out of the chair.

Assistant: C’mon, hurry! We need to go right now, there’s no time to hesitate. Please trust me, I promise I'm going to keep you safe.

The alien doesn’t know what she’s saying, but has already seen the acts she’s taken to help her by freeing them from their bleached-white prison. They instantly bolt up from the chair, but their legs wobble and fall to the ground. The assistant, in a hurry, quickly picks the alien up, propping them onto her back, and runs as fast as she can towards the exit. As she traverses the hallways and staircases, she can hear the guards yelling and marching toward her. When she enters the building's parking garage, she tries to fiddle through her pockets for her car keys. Her body is covered in sweat, and her lungs are burning from the non-stop running with her mask covering her nose and mouth. The surgical cap she was wearing has fallen off of her head ages ago, and her long hair is now reduced to a frizzy mess of a low-bun. She finally grabs onto the keys in the front pocket of her scrub pants. After unlocking the car, she lays the alien into the backseat of her Camery and she quickly makes way for the driver's seat. Jamming the keys into the ignition, she messily and quickly backs out from her parking space and slams on the gas. She rams into the ticket barrier at the end of the garage, causing it to snap and fly forward at immense speed. She quickly makes her way onto the main road, her adrenaline still running high. 

Assistant: Oh my god, what the hell am I doing?! My job is going to have both of us killed if they find us, what was I even thinking? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Suddenly, the alien starts to grunt

Alien: Urghht… Ssss… Stth…

Assistant: Are you…mimicking english? Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?

Alien: Sss… saeyyy… Urggrr… 

Assistant: Hold on, we’re almost home, okay? We can practice speech when we get to my apartment. Thank god I never gave those quacks my real information. 

As the assistant pulls into the driveway of her apartment building, the alien grunts in paint. All they can focus on is the pain all over their body. Their wrists and ankles are bruised from the restraints on the chair. Not only that, but their muscles were still spasming from the electric net that got them into this mess in the first place. Due to all of this, the assistant had to carry her out of the car up to the apartment. When she opens the door, she lays the alien down on the couch in the living room. She goes to the freezer to get some ice packs for the aliens' bruises and gently places them on their wrists and ankles.

Assistant: Okay, first things first, we need to actually learn each other's names, it’s only fair with all the crap we’ve both been through today. My name’s Serena, Serena Maddox.

Alien: Mmrmggh… n-nneem, nthhh… Neenah…

Serena: Neena? Your name is Neenah, yes?

Neenah: Yyeath… ssss..th

Serena: I’m really surprised by how quick of a learner you are, but I still need to help you pronounce words properly. For now though, you should focus on getting some rest, okay?

Neenah: Thhhh.. thaeenk… eww…

Serena: It’s okay, I'm just glad we’re both out and safe. Finally safe…

Hey yall! Hope you guys like the first chapter of this fanfic/webseries i'm starting. It's my firs time writing any type of fanfiction, so criticism is welcome! Let me know what you guys think :)

[thewestern]

Chapter 12.5

Now when he was a young man,

He never thought he'd see

People stand in line to see the boy king.

It’s true that as pharaohs go, Tutankhamon wasn’t really all that memorable. Not in terms of his achievements. Nor was he infamous for some or other empirical blunder. He was just a kid. Nine years old when he ascended the throne. Dead at nineteen. Perhaps then the Boy King captured the childlike imagination inside of us all.  

Or rather it was his toys. Because the real reason you and I know Tutankhamon was his tomb, and more specifically, all the wonderful things contained within it. Lucky for us, the entrance to his tomb had been obstructed by rubble and debris — likely the handiwork of some fly-by-night ancient Egyptian contractors in the course of their renovation of a neighboring tomb unit in the Valley of Kings (KV). As a result of his being hermetically sealed away as such, like in a storage unit, all of his royal stuff was preserved in near-mint condition. Likewise, the many looters who had plundered nearly every other crypt of note couldn’t get their grubby grave-robbing mitts on it. So that when KV62 was finally discovered, largely intact, in the early Nineteen Twenties, the public could be spellbound by the opulence of these his burial goods. Among the artifacts, a great many of them gilded, there was an iron dagger, rare for the Bronze Age, revealed by X-ray fluorescence to likely have been fashioned from a meteorite. Hell yeah. As well as there were luxury chariots, designer sandals, linens of ancient Egyptian cotton and of course his iconic funerary mask, forged of solid gold, baby. Those and hundreds of other treasures were buried there for what was supposed to be all-time with his diminutive teenage mummy. For he was a sickly boy king. And like Russian nesting dolls, laid alongside his there were a pair of sarcophagi which were tinier still, whose occupants were later proven by DNA analysis to be his daughters, probably stillborns.

(King Tut) How'd you get so funky?

(Funky Tut) Did you do the monkey?   

The media frenzy resulting from the find was unprecedented in the history of Egyptology. Newspapermen from all over the world reported breathlessly as contents were extracted from the tomb and catalogued somewhat haphazardly by the attending archeologists. Their readers simply had to know … What would they dig up next?

They had hit paydirt. Tutankhamon had arisen from his tomb, a popular cultural phenomenon reincarnate. Before there was Beatlemania, there was Tutmania. That was seriously the suffix by which they called his ascent to fame. Three thousand years posthumously, King Tut — as he was so affectionately nicknamed — had achieved -mania Mode. (Other previous and subsequent -manias include: Tulip Mania, a period during the Dutch Golden Age when the speculative price of tulip bulbs reached exceptionally high levels before collapsing dramatically, and Beanie Mania, a period during the American Golden Age wherein the same thing happened with plush toys stuffed with plastic pellets. Also Billy’s favorite -mania, Wrestle, which remains ongoing.) 

They composed big band songs about him on Tin Pan Alley. Cast him a leading man of the silent film era. Women flocked to department stores to purchase household goods, some modeled faithfully after the primeval appliances, others crudely appropriated of their exotic-sounding names and likenesses. 

You can bet your sweet ass that Big Museum cashed in too. Exhibited over the decades from Tokyo to Toledo, Ohio, London to New Orleans, Louisiana, Paris to St. Petersburg (Russia, not Florida), King Tut’s treasures became arguably the most well-traveled relics in history.    

Born in Arizona,

Moved to Babylonia (King Tut).

In the Fall of Seventy-eight, KT — or more specifically a life-size replica of his mummy — was subletting an unfurnished wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the last scheduled stop on his three-year North American Tour. By that time his shit was hot, having already been cargo-shipped around the world and back again. Circumnavigations that included a visit to the former Soviet Union, which at the time harboured considerably friendlier relations with the Egyptian government than its Cold War combatants. As you may imagine, this constituted a great embarrassment to these United States. So much so, that following Secretary of State Henry Kissinger’s deft diplomatic interventions during the Yom Kippur War, President Nixon immediately cashed in the resultant political capital, boarded Air Force One to Alexandria and personally appealed to his counterpart Anwar Sadat to please, let his people look upon these magnificent things. Sadat relented, and years later, while Tut was lying in state at the Met, Sadat was himself stateside at Camp David, signing the as-titled Accords with Israeli PM Menachem Begin.

On that very same day that President Jimmy was brokering Middle East Peace  (okay … two things that Hayseed got right, Hank would have begrudglingly allowed), meanwhilst untold thousands of tourists were descending upon the Upper West Side like locusts with fanny packs, there was An American Band — nay, The American Band — kicking off a three-night run at the New Sound & Light Theater just outside Cairo, which from Tutankhamon’s down valley resting place was about the same length-drive from New York to D.C., albeit along the banks of the Nile, a Hell of a long way from the Hudson or the Potomac. The Grateful Dead gigging Giza and the Great Pyramid was mostly Phil’s project. Go figure. Like they had recently been to Stonehenge or something and he was on this kick about them playing Places of Power. The pyramids are like the obvious number one choice, he said, because no matter what anyone thinks they might be, there is definitely some kind of mojo about the pyramids. Fucking-a. But on the other hand, show me a place of power and I’ll show you one of suffering, someone might could have informed him. Live From Chornobyl. Europe 72 AD (recorded at the newly constructed Colosseum). At Folsom Prison. 

(Plattsburgh Air Force Base? Big Cypress?)  

Whatever. Hank wasn’t there if you were wondering. They’re weren’t hardly any capital-f Fans in the audience. Mostly members of The extedned Family. You know, usual suspects: Mountain Girl, Kesey, Ram Rod, Bill Graham, Bear, Portland Trailblazers’ center Bill Walton, Big Steve. As for local party crashers, the nearly blindingly nearsighted Lesh claimed to have caught out of the corner of his soda bottle-bespectacled eye some shadowy figures gathered on the crowd’s outskirts, swaying rhythmically in dark flowing robes. Somehow it was later backchanneled to him that these were Bedouin, the nomadic horsemen of the desert, and that they’d been drawn in by the lights and the music, falling on and echoing off the eroded profile of the mighty Sphinx. 

Hank did attend one of the shows they put on back home to help offset the cost of hauling all their crew and equipment, all the way to fucking Egypt. (Whereas aformentionedly he heard the debut rendition of Shakedown Street, the title track of the forthcoming studio album.) This had not been a treasure-hunting or even profit-seeking Arabian adventure. What meager proceed there was had been donated to the Antiquities Society. (It belongs in a museum!)

Hank had however seen the Tutankhamun traveling road show when it stopped through his town. Fucking everybody went. Even the Grateful Dead! The band members had been, in a way, so resurrected by their experience in Egypt, that they couldn’t hardly wait to visit the blockbuster exhibit for themselves. Conveniently its final destination was right down the street, at the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum in Golden Gate Park. (The U.S. tour had originally been announced without any San Francisco dates. Area Tutheads bombarded the Mayor’s office demanding that he wield the fullest extent of his executive power to Bring Tut To The Bay. de Young Museum trustees flew to Cairo shortly thereafter to negotiate the terms of his visit.) Let the good times roll!

By all accounts, Jerry had especially high expectations for Egypt. They were going to harness the power of that ancient place and levitate the pyramids, he was purported to have said. Of course, Abbie Hoffman and the yippies had attempted that same metaphysical feat on the Pentagon in the decade prior, granted the geometric parameters were incongruent. They were ten years on from the Summer of Love. Garcia had since forsaken the world-expanding properties of LSD in favor of heroin, which as we know constricts time and space down to a much more manageable plane. Although now the walls of his tomb were closing in on him. Maybe that’s what he felt that day at the museum. That the existential jet lag had set in, and the big trip was really over for good this time. All that was left was the sand in his pockets and all these souvenirs. 

Alas, the show must go on. Record company’s on line one. We got a studio album to cut. One of the lest-remembered tracks on Shakedown St. is its finale: If I Had The World To Give. As a fairly straight-ahead love song, it’s sort of an outlier in the Dead oeuvre, even for a Garcia-Hunter ballad. Okay, obviously, there’s TLEO, but isn’t that about love as a concept, conceptually, rather than the act of loving somebody? THEY love EACH OTHER. And it’s a warning. Their love is like a freight train, and boy they better take care it don’t run ‘em clean over. Easy for you to say, watching from the station.   

A true love song — it could be said — is about love in the first person. I love YOU. From my POV, where I stand astraddle these tracks, I can hear the whistle blowing, see the locomotive coming round the bend, smell the steam now as I feel the cattle guard sweep me off my fancy feet, launching me sky fucking high, to kingdom come. And, baby, I don’t care if I ever come down. Because even if I brought you back heaven and the moon and the shining stars above, you still wouldn’t love me back, would you? Don’t lie to me, baby. That’s alright. That’s just fine with me. Because I got something bigger and better. Don’t believe me? Wait till you hear this … (It could also be said that the best love songs are about romantic feeling unrequited. If he or she already loves you back, then really, what the hell are you strumming an acoustic guitar for, like an asshole? Wasting time which could be better spent screwing. That’s what.) This song that I sing to YOU, with these assembled here today as my witnesses: the acid heads and the speed freaks, the Jerry Side and the Phil Zone, the spinners and the tapers and the nomadic horsepeople. It is a divine force all too powerful and too pure for YOU and ME to keep locked away in this tomb of love. THEY have to know what WE have. It is something they can never understand but they can hear it so that they may feel an infinitesimal fraction of it for themselves. THAT is what all THIS is for. 

They only played it three times, all in that same Fall of Seventy-eight, the last of which rendition was performed in Cleveland, of all fucking places, arguably the third best city in Ohio (possibly fourth best, depending on your tolerance for the delicacy which is Skyline Chili), and undoubtedly a long fucking way from Cairo. (Famously, Cleveland is home to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The city lobbied for the right to host the Hall by citing that local disk jockey Alan Freed had coined the term, Rock And Roll. Additionally it pledged sixty-five million dollars in public money to fund the construction. The building was designed by hall of fame-architect I.M. Pei, who drew up the blueprints for many-a-museum, including the Louvre, which like its Clevelandish cousin, also prominently features a glass pyramid for its plaza facade.) November the Twentieth. By then they were a poorly fucking lot. Bobby was purportedly backstage puking his guts out for the better part of Set Two. Phil, for his part, was by his own accounting a fully-blown drunk in Seventy-eight. Kreutzmann had a cast on his hand, which he busted getting bucked off a goddamn camel. Speaking of the Grateful Dead and their Great Pyramid scheme, the Rocking the Cradle live album they had planned to release as a means to pay for this boondoggle in full had to be scrapped. So here they were, a half a million in the Red Sea, all on account of some crew member had gotten into a row with the piano tuner, who then tendered his resignation in protest. So Keith was off-key in addition to being offbeat. The latter owing to his accelerating abuse of cocaine, which does a number on one’s sense of time. Hard on a marriage too. So, of course, he and Donna were on the rocks. What else is new?

On top of all that bullshit, before the curtain fell, the band’d just been informed of an unspeakable tragedy that had occurred only two days previous. Leo Ryan, a U.S. congressman representing California’s fightin’ eleventh, where indeed all the band members resided (and some of them paid taxes), was gunned down on an airstrip in Guyana. Murdered by an outfit by the name of the Red Brigade on the order of its commanding officer Jim Jones, another erstwhile San Franciscan and embattled leader of the Peoples’ Temple, which had fled to South America to escape persecution for their fringe religious beliefs and raised this settlement that they called Jonestown. (Congressman Ryan had launched this fact-finding mission at the urging of the loved ones of the alleged cult members, many of whom were his constituents. Upon completing his investigation, he was prepared to report back that living conditions were indeed adequate and that, by his judgement, no one was being coerced to remain there against their wills.) Anticipating swift reprisal for this slaying of a sitting U.S. congressman, the Reverend called upon his flock. Rather than be themselves slaughtered by the capitalist pig forces which had been conspiring against them (among whom Jones cited the CIA, the FBI, the U.S. Postal Service and others), he beseechethed thee to commit an act of Revolutionary Suicide. In single file they lined up — men, women and children … alphabetically by height — to be served red plastic cups of grape Flavor-Aid, ladled from a large metal vat. In place of LSD, this fruity concoction had been laced with a cocktail of chemical agents that which notably included the compound commonly known as Cyanide. Small children died within five minutes. Less for babies. (Mothers were instructed to administer their own infants’ doses via syringe.) Adults took an agonizing twenty-to-thirty minutes to succumb. Just over nine hundred people died that day. All but one — Jones was found with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the left temple, his head cushioned by a pillow — died of the poisoning. The events at Jonestown constituted the greatest single loss of American civilian life in a deliberate act until the incidents of September the Eleventh.   

Maybe Jerry was thinking about that. Or, albeit less likely, he could have still been hung up on Ole King Tut, laid to rest beside his wife and half-sister Ankhesenamun, their two deadborn daughters — cherubs, elaborately embalmed — and all their fabulous worldly possessions, when he sang, presumably for the last time, these words: 

Well maybe I've got no star to spare, or anything fine or even rare,

Only if you let me be your world, could I ever give this world to you.

Could I ever give this world to you.

[ricardian-werewolf]

Here’s an updated scene for my chapter, A California Sojourn:

Edmund shifted aside, folding himself into the shadows as the nobleman stepped into Augusta’s chambers.

“How are you, my dear?” he asked.

Augusta glowered at the nobleman and replied tartly. “Fine, thank you, papa,”

Melbourne sniffed, noted Augusta’s updo interwoven with springs of heather and lilac, and his eyes narrowed. Unlike Exley, Melbourne knew not the reason for why the stench of plums hung so closely about Augusta’s form.

Why the oaken wardrobe in the corner of her room was pulled tightly shut and the gold lock was obscured at one end by a bolt of black linen.

For in that cramped space, his breath barely flitting through clenched teeth and out in his nostrils, was Hamish Goames. He had been sent from the expanses of New France, witness to the settlement of so much of Canada as the Hudson Bay exerted their airtight grip on this “uninhabited new land,” and moved south.

Now he was in California.

Entirely of his own free will. But ignorance of a summons by a man such as the one who’d called him here, was not to be done. Hamish may have had spent decades in the service of being little more than an obeyer to the whims of others, but he’d broken free of that and served under his own banner.

Pro Pelle Cutem.

A pelt for a skin - except in this case, and in only Hamish’s, the pelt and skin were his own. The Bay had made him into a man - the skin - but Wobik had given him the pelt. A pelt of the finest ink-drenched gossamer and fur that was stronger than diamond and softer than the fine velvet of a woman’s gown.

He had teeth too. Claws and teeth that would turn the wood of this wardrobe to splinters with the lightest of touches and yet, he stayed perfectly still. Though, if anyone in the room were to see his hands, they would note that the chewed nails had become pointed, and edged in dustings of some metal.

Sky-iron or meteorite, was what Augusta theorized.

It was in reality pure silver, albeit an ancient kind that had not been seen since the agricultural revolution. It was so sharp that diamond was chipped by it, and in one case where Hamish had had to defend his dearest love from a particularly brutal attack at the end of a longsword, the entire blade of steel and copper had been shattered to shards the same size as the mere fingernail it took to break the blade.

He bared those teeth now in a silent snarl, milk white gleam in the suffocating dark of the closed wardrobe. Through the creakings of the floorboard and the lack of breath coming from the room, he could sense who moved about on this chessboard of power, and who did not.

The young servant girl, Sarah, was the most quiet of their gaggle, which was to be expected, and Hamish’s perked ears heard her departure and assumed Augusta must have waved her off. The acidity in her tone against her father was enough to make Hamish muse on whether or not Melbourne was going to become mortis sometime in the next night or three.

This week-long sojourn in California, a last hurrah, as the English loved to say, before Augusta’s new posting to the Sierra Nevadas, was a disaster. In the Vipers nest of Lord Melbourne’s gran casa, there was no chance for privacy, peace, or for sanity.

It was no wonder that everyone here was on the tripping edge of insanity. Some, like Melbourne and his coven, had already descended into its slippery, slimy grasp.

But as Hamish pieced together the narrative hidden behind those oaken wardrobe doors, he knew that he would not descend the same way Melbourne was wheedling Edmund Exley to, the same way he’d corrupted his own son.

With promises of power and positions that could never be granted. Hamish chewed his lower lip with a lengthened canine and felt a growl rise from somewhere in him. He stifled it as best he could, and moved to pressing his ear to the wood, and hearing what escaped his eyes.

“-There is a ball tonight.”

“Expect her to be ready, but your gr-”

“No arguments, Detective. Get that-”

Hamish swallowed down bile and sifted through the rising argument for the sound of Augusta’s slow heartbeat, made so by opium and illness. His own heart stuttered.

Her pulse was flat.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 65

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,840ish

Summary: Time passes, though things really don’t get easier.

Notes: The start of the Empire Strikes Back! 

Three years passed in the slowest of fashions. Despite your desire to run and hide—to live out your life by yourself—you could not leave Leia and Luke behind. It was your duty now to protect and watch over them.

You didn’t like how similar the Rebellion felt to the Clone Wars. It made you miss those of your past even more: Ahsoka, Padme, Crak, Cody, Rex, Anakin, and even Master Yoda. There is no one you missed more though than your beloved husband, Obi-Wan. And no matter how hard you tried to connect with him through the Force, you always came up empty. You remembered that Obi-Wan had said that it took ten years for him to connect with Qui-Gon. Unfortunately, you did not have the patience or faith to endure that. 

Luke often asked you to train him. Occasionally, you would give in and spare with him but you refused to teach him in any of the matters of the Force. He was kind and understanding about it at first but as the years went on he grew more confused as to why you wouldn’t. You refused to give him any actual answer. There was too much baggage, you felt like, and it was too risky to tell Luke more information than he already knew. It was not time to tell him—or Leia—the truth about everything.

Han stuck around, though he constantly complained about staying and made excuses for leaving but never actually did. The two of you grew close as you would spend time together on his ship drinking. You got to know him well and he you—for the most part. 

You often complained to Han about how the Rebellion was worsening your PTSD, which was true. You were struggling to get to sleep and when you did sleep, it was full of nightmares. You were reliving your worst memories, over and over again. 

Han would often respond to your worries by telling you that he was going to get out of there and he would take you with him. You always wished that you could go, but told him you couldn’t leave Leia and Luke. He would question you as to why causing you to switch the subject, in which he never questioned you.

You hadn’t had an experience with the Dark Side like you had had that night, but you could still feel the darkness inside you. It was like it was waiting for the perfect moment to completely take hold of you.

Due to the Empire continually after them, the Rebellion had to keep moving from place to place. You were now located on the frozen, wasteland planet of Hoth. Currently, you were in the makeshift command center where, unfortunately, you spent most of your days.

“Captain Solo,” General Rieekan greeted the man as he came into the command center. “What’s the situation?”

“There isn’t a hint of life in the area,” Han reported on his and Luke’s recent life scan outside the base. “But all the perimeter markers are set, so you'll know if anyone comes calling.”

“Good, and Commander Skywalker?”

“He’s checking out a meteorite that hit near him. He’ll be in soon.”

“With all the meteor activity in this system, it’s going to be difficult to spot approaching ships.”

“The Empire won’t look for you out here. I’d say you’re all set with means it’s time for me to get going.”

“You’re leaving?” Leia questioned, straightening up beside you. You rolled your eyes. She and Han had such thick sexual tension but were too busy being petty with each other to do anything.

“That’s right.”

“You’re an extraordinary fighter,” Rieekan said. “I hate to lose you.”

“Thank you, General. But there’s a price on my head. If I don’t pay off Jabba the Hutt, I’m a walking dead man.”

“I understand. A death mark is not an easy thing to live with.” The General shook Han’s hand. “Until our paths cross again, may the Force be with you.”

The men gave each other a nod before Rieekan moved away. Han turned to you.

“I’ll miss you, kid,” he said with a small, playful smile.

You shook your head as you moved over and brought him in for a hug. “Still older than you,” you retorted.

“Still don’t care.” He pulled back to get a good look at your face. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? There’s plenty of room on the ship.”

You sighed. A large part of you wished that you could run away from your responsibilities here, but you couldn’t. “As much fun as that sounds, I need to stay here.”

“Shame. Chewie’s not as fun to drink with.”

You chuckled. “Stay safe.”

“Always am.” He smirked. “May the Force be with you, Y/N.”

You weren’t necessarily a big fan of that phrase right now but you weren’t able to not wish him well in the same fashion. “May the Force be with you.”

You gave his arm a squeeze as you walked away. Back at your station, you kept an eye out on Leia and Han. Han had moved closer to Leia.

“I guess this is it, Your Highness,” Han said, with some genuine feeling.

Leia was clearly angry. It was written on her face and you could feel it in her Force signature. Han shook his head, realizing that he would not get any warmth from her.

“Well, don’t get all mushy on me,” his tone was cooler now. “So long, Princess.”

Han walked out of the room. Leia stewed for a moment, glancing your way. You gave her a look that tried to tell her that she was being a little hard on Han. She huffed before marching after him. You shook your head and continued working.

~~~

“Han!” You ran through the base calling for the man, hoping it wasn’t too late. “Han!” You came out in the hangar, thankful to see the Millennium Falcon was still there. “Han!”

The man turned from where he was under his ship to face you. He chuckled. “I knew you’d change your mind, kid. I’ve already—“

“No, no, that’s not it.” You came to a harsh stop in front of Han, who placed his hands on your arms to steady you. “Why haven’t you been answering your communicator?”

“I shut it off.” He pulled away and turned back to his ship. “I didn’t need her royal holiness badgering me about staying more.”

“It was about Luke. He hasn’t come back. We don’t know where he is.”

He turned back to face you. “What do you mean, nobody knows?” He started looking around and yelling, “Deck officer! Deck officer!” Han found an officer.

“Excuse me, sir,” the deck officer said. “Might I—“

“Do you know where Commander Skywalker is?”

“I haven’t seen him. He probably came in through the South entrance.”

“It’s possible? Why don’t you go find out? It’s getting dark out there.”

“Yes, sir,” the deck officer rushed away.

Han looked back at you to see you emotional and panicky. Over the past three years, Han had learned a lot about you, and yet nothing at all. One of the things he had somewhat learned was how to read you. Slowly, he came back over to you.

“We have to find him, Han,” you said desperately. “I have failed at protecting everyone in my life. I cannot fail at this.”

He was confused at the true meaning behind your words but wasn’t going to push it. “This is not on you. I’m sure he’s alright.”

“No, you don’t understand. Luke is our only hope. He has to fulfill the prophecy because me and Ana—“ You stopped yourself quickly as you realized you were spilling too much information. “We just have to find him.”

Han was going to say something when the deck officer rushed up to the two of them.

“Commander Skywalker hasn’t come in the south entrance,” the officer informed the two of them. “Maybe he forgot to check in.”

“Not likely,” Han responded. “Are the speeders ready?”

“Not yet. We’re having trouble adapting them to the cold.”

“We’ll have to go out on tauntauns,” you said.

“There’s no ‘we’, kid. I will go, you need to stay here.”

“The temperature’s dropping too rapidly,” warned the officer.

“That’s right, and my friend’s out in it.” Han hopped onto one of the already saddled tauntauns.

“Your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker!”

“Then I’ll see you in hell!” 

Han then rode out of the base. You stood at the opening, watching him disappear into the snowy wasteland. R2 beeped as he rolled up to you.

“I’m worried about Luke too,” you replied. R2 beeped and whirled. “Yes, I know how important he is, R2.” Once again, the droid beeped. “No, I cannot be the Chosen One. It’s up to him now.”

~~~

It didn’t take long for Leia to join you at your post, watching the horizon for the men to return. C3PO and R2 were both with you. R2 was trying to pick up any signals from out in the blizzard.

“General,” one of the officers came up to you, “all the patrols are in. There’s still no contact from Skywalker or Solo.”

“R2 says he’s been quite unable to pick up any signals,” C3PO added. “Although, he admits that his own range is far too weak to abandon all hope.”

“Your Highness, General,” Rieekan came up to the took of you as he spoke, “there’s nothing more we can do tonight. The shield doors must be closed.”

You hated that you hadn’t gone after Luke with Han. Standing here, helpless, was not something you were okay with.

“Close the doors,” Rieekan ordered the officers, who quickly obeyed.

As the doors began to close, you closed your eyes and focused on the Force. You branched out to try and sense something, anything, from Luke or Han. You flinched slightly as you felt something all too familiar. Something you hadn’t felt in three years.

“R2 says the chances of survival are 725-to-1,” C3PO said, trying and failing to make you and Leia feel better. “Actually, R2 has been known to make mistakes… from time to time.”

“3PO, out of the kindness of my heart, please, shut up,” you told him, still keeping your eyes shut. 

You reached out with the Force once again to see if the same familiar. When you did, your eyes snapped open and you spun around, rushing toward your quarters. You ignored Leia’s calls of your name. Once you were in your quarters, you leaned back against the door.

“Obi-Wan,” you rasped. “Please, show yourself to me… I know you’re there.” 

There was no response. The feeling in the Force was even gone. Your head hung as tears sprung up in your eyes.

“I need you, Obi,” you began to cry. “I am not strong enough for this… just… show yourself to me… please.” You slowly slid down the door to your knees. “Why have you abandoned me?”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A tale of four robins

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Bpar7is by Dino_Jaurus A meteorite crashes on earth on the outskirts of Gotham. The Justice League sends Batman a message to check it out. Bruce, who is pissed at his three eldest sons for a stunt they pulled earlier this week sends them to collect it for him. Upon arrival they notice that the rock is too big for them to carry so Dick sends a request for assistance. The three of them go to take a sample when suddenly the meteorite explodes in a bright white light. When the smoke clears the meteorite has disappeared and where Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin were standing are now 3 small children in odd costumes. Or Dick, Jason and Tim get de-aged to when they just became Robin and shenanigans happen Words: 304, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth, Batcow, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Justice League (DCU), Other Character Tags to Be Added Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Justice League & Batfam, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Time Travel, Alternate Universe, Robin!Dick, robin!jason, Robin!Tim, Robin!Damian, Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression/De-Aging, Batfamily Meets the Justice League (DCU), Sibling Bonding, Babysitting, Bruce Wayne Has Too Many Kids, many shenanigans, Dyslexic Author, Other Additional Tags to Be Added read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Bpar7is

[spacewitchqueen]

(Love Is) A Deadly Game - Epilogue

A/N: The end of this story. Finally. Masterpost will follow soon. As always, thank you for reading! 

Snippet: A sudden feeling of dread gripped you. You remembered who you were, your life, your family. So why did you feel like there was something missing? And not just anything, something important. Someone.

Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader (alternating POV, indicated by ***)

Chapter summary: After leaving the Borderland, who remembers first?

Bright lights. After so much darkness… Everything was too bright. You could feel the white light over you, all around you, even through your eyelids. You were afraid to open your eyes for fear of where you’d wake up. That state of panic lasted minutes, hours maybe. And you drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

Eventually you gathered enough courage to open your eyes and felt utterly lost. You did not recognize the place, you had no recollection of how you’d got there. With your heart racing it was hard to think. 

‘Focus,’ you commanded yourself, taking deep breaths. You were lying down, dressed in a hospital gown, tied down. No. Not tied down, your left arm was hooked to an IV bag, that’s why you couldn’t move freely. You calmed down somewhat, fine, you were in a hospital bed. But why? 

You looked down, your arms were covered in bruises, your right arm in a cast. Nothing too awful. Good. Next, you looked around. The room was pristine, quiet. Clearly meant for patients that were not in critical condition. There was a girl on the bed next to yours, unconscious, long dreadlocks framing her face. She looked familiar, something in you recognized her as a friend, but you were sure you didn’t know her. Did you?

A sudden feeling of dread gripped you. You remembered who you were, your life, your family. So why did you feel like there was something missing? And not just anything, something important. Someone. Was it her? Maybe, but shouldn’t there be someone else? You forced yourself to remember what you had been doing before waking up here but all you could recall was strange lights in the sky.

The small TV mounted on the wall distracted you from letting anxiety consume you, providing neutral background noise. Your eyelids felt heavy with sleep, you would have given into that drowsiness but the newscast caught your attention.

‘...The strange meteorite event also caused significant material damage in and around Shibuya, where dozens of people died and hundreds of people were injured.’

A meteorite? Yes. Those lights.... Memories came back to you in pieces. You’d been driving, waiting for the traffic lights to change at the busiest crossing. You’d spotted three guys running among the crowd, one of them riding on his friend’s shoulders; a guy with white blonde hair wearing a light gray t-shirt and a white sweater, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He had walked right in front of your car and for a second your eyes had met… your heart clenched at this image. Why?

 A nurse came into the room startling you out of that reverie. ‘You’re awake! How are you feeling? Are you up for a walk? You need to get those muscles moving again.’

You nodded and she came over to help you stand up. She secured your hospital gown and gave you a pair of slippers. You did not take her hand at first but the second you were on your feet your balance betrayed you. ‘Take it easy, you were in a coma, you know?’ she said in a soothing voice. 

Reluctantly, you took her hand and let her drag the IV stand so you could concentrate on staying upright.

The two of you walked in silence, allowing you to get lost in your thoughts again. You had only been walking for a few minutes when an alarm went off at the nurse’s station.

‘I’ll walk you back to your room now,’ the nurse said.

‘Can I please stay out here a little bit longer?’ you asked, not eager to go back to bed just yet.

‘I can stay with her,’ someone said before the nurse could answer. It was that white-haired guy! But who was he? 

‘Doctor! You should not be out of bed either,’ the nurse scolded him.

‘I take full responsibility.’

‘Very well, but no more than ten minutes.’

He took the IV stand in his left hand and offered you his right. Something flashed before your eyes. Did you know him? Had you met before the meteorite? 

‘I was wondering when you’d wake up.’

‘Do I know you? Doctor…’

‘Chishiya. You do now.’

‘I am…’

‘I know who you are.’

‘How?’

‘We were somewhere else together.’

‘The meteorite?’

Chishiya considered your question. ‘Between that and this.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘You will.’

He walked you back to your room minding the ten-minute limit the nurse had imposed. He looked at the girl with the dreadlocks and smiled. ‘Glad to see you were in good company. I’ll see you around.’

That night, in dreams, you heard his voice.

***

Chishiya opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar place, even if the circumstances were not exactly what he was used to. A hospital room. Only this time, it seemed he was a patient, rather than the one looking after them.

He tried to sit up but pain made him lie back down, his heart monitor showing the sudden jump in his pulse. Alright, he was injured but apparently out of immediate danger. 

Whoever was on the bed next to his, had not been so lucky. There was a curtain around it. Chishiya learned later that the man had suffered serious burns on his face and had other wounds as well.

When the doctors came to evaluate him, Chishiya almost asked to be discharged. Almost. He did ask to walk around.

During these unofficial rounds, he came across familiar faces. Why were they familiar? 

That night he had a very vivid dream. He dreamed of a place where people had to play deadly games and be willing to kill others to survive. He dreamed of the people he’d met there, the faces he had seen at the hospital. He dreamed about her. When he woke up, he remembered everything.

It was still dark, but he had to know that he wasn’t going insane. He managed to climb out of his bed and go check the chart of the man with the burns. Niragi, just as he had called that man in his dream. So then his memories were real, and if that was the case…

Chishiya was very tempted to go looking for her that second, but he knew he couldn’t just roam the hospital in the dead of night without alarming the nurses. 

The next morning he couldn’t wait until the doctor came to check on him. He slipped out of his room as soon as the doctor had left. Not that he wasn’t allowed to. He went room by room and when he thought he might not find her, he saw her walking with a nurse.

He stayed with her, relieved that she had made it out. She didn’t remember him. No, no, she did. She just needed time.

It was fine, she was safe. He could wait.

But maybe not that much. Now that he knew where to find her it wasn’t easy to just sit around. He sneaked into her room that night between rounds to watch her sleep and maybe to tell her the things he hadn’t dared to give voice to while they were awake. He spoke in a whisper about how they had met, everything that had happened between them in the Borderland and the promise they’d made at the very end.

‘I know I’m there, somewhere, in your head,’ he said before leaving. ‘You have to remember.’

***

You woke up with a start and the very distinct sensation someone had been there, by your side. You looked around but there was no one else in the room other than the girl with the dreadlocks, still fast asleep. 

Earlier that night you had seen her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, and the nurses had said she was probably going to wake up the next day. Good. Hearing that had stirred another memory, you imagined what her smile would be like, feeling that you already knew.

Sleep claimed you once more. You didn’t hear his voice again, but this time the dream was different, it almost felt real. You tried to wake up, but couldn’t. The cards. The games. So much fear, so much pain, so much death. And in between all of that… him. Chishiya. 

You sat up in bed, your heart racing. The first rays of sunshine creeping in through the blinds, still too early to get up and walk around. Besides, you didn’t even know where to go looking for him. Chishiya had walked you to your room the previous day, but you didn’t know where his room was. You had to wait.

Minutes stretched into hours. At long last, you saw the door handle move. As soon as the nurse came in, you asked her to let you go for a walk. She hesitated because the girl in the next bed was finally waking up. You knew her name now too, Kuina. 

‘I will be fine by myself just for a few minutes,’ you said. The nurse pursed her lips but helped you stand up.

You wished you could walk faster, as if your memories would fade back into nothingness if you didn’t find Chishiya soon, or maybe fearing he would have forgotten you.

Just as you were losing your patience, you ran into him coming out of his room. He stared at you with a questioning look on his face. ‘Do you remember me?’

You nodded. ‘When we were there… at the end… You said you would find me.’

‘And I have.’