#the quest for the elusive author's note

[jungkookschin]

demigod trials: achilles’ heel | four

synopsis: you’re a roman, he’s a greek. his father is poseidon, your mom is minerva.

taehyung rules the waters, is friends with sea nymphs, hippocampi, and mermaids- but you? you're deathly afraid of water; consider it your achilles' heel.

he’s annoying, disrespectful, and rude but you need his help especially when the oracle sends you on a quest to the sea

word count: 9.5k

pairings: son of poseidon!taehyung x daugher of minerva!reader

genre: ENEMIES TO LOVERSS, slowburn, bantering, SMUT (non explicit bc idk)

warnings: death, sacrifices, swordfighting, smut (non explicit), broken friendships, obvious use of ai to rewrite entences LOL

author's note: i dont think this could be read as a stand alone. maybe it could, but u would probably need to read the other chapters for context. also yes this is a whole new OC, and this one is kinda spicy. not crazy explicit, but it's spicy. the more i elaborate on it the spicier itll get idk. thank

demigod trials masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | 3.5 | four | five

When you were five years old, your mother, the Roman goddess Minerva, bestowed you with a dream you are still unable to interpret.

In the dream, you were on the Santa Monica beach, frantically chasing after an owl, your little feet clumsily trekking across the sand.

The blue sky stretches endlessly, a serene canvas painted with the vibrant hues of tranquility.

Silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky, the owl gracefully soars, its wings outstretched, as the sun casts a warm glow through its feathers.

As the owl glides above the ocean, you ineptly run into the ocean, unaware of your impending plunge into the waves, frustration permeating your system as the majestic bird leads you farther into the water. 

Panic grips you as the weight of realization sinks in—unable to catch the elusive owl, you find yourself engulfed by the ocean's depths, struggling against the water.

Desperation takes hold as you thrash against the water, limbs flailing in a frantic attempt to resurface.

Overwhelmed by the relentless embrace of the ocean, you succumb to its depths, your desperate gasps for air silenced by the water's cold grip.

From the unseen shadows, a boy with blue hair dives into the water, pulling you from the drowning abyss. 

The boy with blue hair swims elegantly to the shore, his little arms exerting strength to conquer the ocean’s unforgiving waves before he lays you on the shore and dives back into the sea.

-

Minerva, the Roman goddess and counterpart of Athena, embodies the essence of wisdom, strategic prowess, and artistic patronage, symbolized by the owl and the tools of war and craftsmanship.

Minerva, as a virgin goddess, signifies a commitment to celibacy and purity; she didn't undergo a conventional pregnancy.

 Instead, she formed a connection with a man, your father, valuing his intellect, and she bestowed you as a unique gift, birthing you from her mind.

Yup, you were literally birthed from her mind and your little fetus self physically emerged from her forehead.

You don’t know what it looks like- to birth someone from a forehead- and quite frankly  you don’t want to visualize that image.

Embracing your heritage as a daughter of Minerva, the Roman counterpart to Athena, you took on the position of Tribunus Laticlavius.

In your role as Tribunus Laticlavius of the Roman Legion, you hold the position of second-in-command to the Praetors, Mina and Mingyu.

You embodied the wisdom and strategic prowess associated with your mother, guiding the legion with a keen intellect and maintaining discipline among the ranks.

You, Mina, and Mingyu share a strong bond that originated from your upbringing in New Rome. 

New Rome is a hidden city founded by demigods (children of gods and mortals) who sought a safe haven from monsters and the challenges faced by demigods in the mortal world.

Modeled after ancient Rome, it serves as a sanctuary for those with divine heritage.

Playing hopscotch besides the Panthenon, indulging in the Roman-esque public baths, and leaving sacrifices in your parents’ respective temples, your connections have endured over time and have played a significant role in shaping your leadership roles within the Roman Legion.

It’s all thanks to your mother. The intellect and wisdom inherited from your mother is what has garnered you success- but right now, you’re not sure what to do because these days, you’re starting to question Mina’s sanity.

You can tell by the way she angrily paces around the room, and you can’t do anything but exchange concerned glances with Mingyu.

Mina, the daughter of Venus, and one of your best friends has often struggled with how she is perceived as Praetor of the Roman Legion. 

Praetors, as the highest-ranking members of the Legion, command fearlessly and are to be taken seriously.

Being the first female Praetor, Mina has had a tough time getting soldiers- especially men- to take her seriously. Her authority is often challenged- and people often question if she is strong-minded enough to assume the role. 

Furthermore, Mina is also the first child of Venus, the Roman counterpart of Aphrodite, to assume the role of Praetor. 

Love, beauty, sex? 

Everything associated with Venus directly contradicts the traits of a Praetor. And some assholes within the legion even coined the nickname the Gilded Dove- directly insinuating she is as weak as a dove and as superficial as gilding. 

“Mina, there could have been another way,” Mingyu urges, leaning against the wall of Mina’s office in the Praetorium.

The Praetorium is the official residence or headquarters of a Praetor, including living quarters and spaces for administrative and official duties.

You nod your head in concurrence with Mingyu. “When the son of Ares and the daughter of Hephaestus return tonight, we can reconvene and plan for something else. We need to collaborate with the Greeks to defeat Tartarus,” you urge, desperation clouding your eyes as you stare into the soul of your best friend. 

Mina shakes her head, landing in her office chair, elbows planted to the desk as she shoves her face into her palms. “Are you not making these suggestions because they’re our friends?” she asks between gritted teeth.  

“Think about the people in danger,” she continues, “If Tartarus ascends through Camp Jupiter, we’ll all die. Kids will die. Elderly will die. Innocent people will be dead. The very foundations of our camp will be over- done.”

Mingyu sighs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter that they’re our friends. It matters because they’re people,” he steps forward. “Think about the message it sends: the Praetors willingly sacrificing innocent people to an evil god means that the Romans are tyrants-”

Mina slams her first on the table. “I don’t care what people think of us. I care that people are safe! The sacrifice of two is worth the lives of millions!”

Now, you’re sure you and Mina can really get into the moral and philosophical implications of sacrificing two innocent demigods in exchange for the safety of New Rome, but you keep silent.

In the silence that follows, Mingyu groans and flicks his head against the wall, creating a thud.

Mina inhales, “Proceeding the sacrificial ceremony, we will reconvene with the high ranking officers to devise a plan to defeat Tartarus. Hopefully the sacrifice will appease him for the time being. We don’t need Camp Half-Blood’s assistance.”

“Mina,” you reason, voice becoming soft to placate the tense atmosphere, “We need the Greeks to defeat him. The Greeks will refuse to collaborate with us if we even attempt to sacrifice their best demigods.” 

Mina rubs her temples, features morphing into frustration. “As long as my people, the Romans, are safe, that is fine.”

She swivels her office chair around, gazing at the landscape of New Rome. You know Mina. You’re sure she’s becoming emotional gazing at the architectural intricacies of New Rome: the temples, the public baths, the Colloseum, the Senate House- all of it embodies Rome. 

All of it embodies home.

Neither you nor Mingyu say a word. 

“You are now dismissed,” Mina simmers, pure exhaustion imbued in her words.  

You exhale, acquiescing as you and Mingyu exit the office. 

If Mingyu were still the highest ranking Praetor, this entire situation could have been avoided. 

A year ago, he royally fucked up when he used the chariot (reserved solely for wars) for pizza deliveries, paving the way for Mina to take his place. 

The thought is so idiotic that you have to stop yourself from strangling him. 

It's becoming clearer to you why some criticize Mina. Perhaps she isn’t strong minded enough to the Praetor, especially considering her inclination towards the most drastic decision.  

But as frustrated with her as you are, you know you can’t disobey the highest ranking Praetor. You have no right to challenge her. 

You and Mingyu stride across the hallways until he enters his office. 

You almost flinch when Mingyu slams his head against the wall. “Gods, everything is going to shit!” he seethes, leaning his forearms against the wall. 

You bite your lip. “It’ll be okay.” 

Your voice is calm, and all you can do is offer him a sweet, comforting smile. “Mina does have one point,” you reason, “We need to keep everybody here safe. If anyone leaves the camp, the monsters will most likely get to them.” 

And it’s true. Romans reside in Camp Jupiter for a reason- for its magical borders shielding demigods and descendants of demigods from monsters. 

You step forward, placing a reassuring hand on Mingyu's shoulder.

Mingyu turns his head to look at you, and his eyes soften. “You’re right Y/N,” He sighs, flopping onto the plush loveseat in his office. He puts a hand on his chin, gathering his thoughts before he expresses what’s on his mind.

“It’s just- the son of Ares and the daughter of Hephaestus- they’re my best friends. I mean- you remember Jungkook, right?” He asks, eyebrows creasing as he nervously plucks at the threads of the loveseat.

Of course you remember Jungkook. Having spent an entire year at Camp Jupiter as Assistant Commander to the Roman Legion, he left an impression with his cold, hardworking, and rigidly serious demeanor—so much so that one might mistake him for a Roman instead of a soft Graecus. 

Once, a harpy attacked the camp grounds, and Jungkook swiftly eliminated the threat with a single, decisive slice. 

You did not want to make an enemy out of him. 

But here you are, willingly sacrificing him to Tartarus.

The daughter of Hephaestus wasn’t someone you were familiar with. All you knew about her was that she fell into Tartarus with Jungkook, and that she died before coming back to life with the Physician’s Cure.

“The daughter of Hephaestus and the son of Ares,” you begin… trailing off slightly, “Mingyu, I think they’ll survive. They’ve been in Tartarus once; they can certainly do it again.”

Mingyu’s eyes turn serious as he nods. “I hope so. They’re tough. Jungkook is…” Mingyu pauses to collect his thoughts, “Jungkook is probably the strongest demigod alive right now.”

At that, you scoff amusedly. “So you’re willingly admitting he’s stronger than you?”

A smile graces his lips and he shrugs. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

You laugh, plopping down on the loveseat and leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’m just happy you’re still the same you. I’m worried about Mina,” you express to which Mingyu nods and throws an arm around you.

“I know,” he agrees, “But it’s our job to follow her and protect her. If she isn’t going to budge on this then we must ensure everything else proceeds smoothly.”

You meet his eyes, trying to read between the lines. You narrow your eyes before you verbally express what you think he may be thinking.

“There’s nothing stopping us from helping them survive Tartarus… right? Maybe we can gift them resources.”

A smile grows on his lips and Mingyu snaps his fingers. “Bingo. Let’s head to the Limenarium.”

-

The Limenarium is the designated underground storage for all the top secret weapons and supplies of Camp Jupiter. 

Access to the Limenarium is restricted to high-ranking officers, and the only way to get there is by taking a secret elevator beneath the ground, whirling through an underground tunnel.

After thirty minutes of travel, you arrive at the entrance of the Limenarium, coming across a very exhausted Yoongi. 

Yoongi, the son of Pluto, the Roman counterpart of Hades, yawns while holding a golden staff. He stands guard in front of the Limenarium. 

There’s really nothing to stand guard for because the Limenarium is hidden for the public, but it’s within protocol to assign a guard in front of the warehouse at all times. 

He nods in acknowledgement when he sees you two approach. “Sup, guys. Where’s Mina?”

You and Mingyu are great at concealing any signs of trouble. 

Even if you find her decisions perplexing, maintaining a façade of unwavering respect and honor for Mina in public is essential for the sake of the Roman Legion.

Mingyu shrugs, “She’s in a meeting with the Centurion- sent us down here to test some prototypes out.”

Yoongi shrugs. He doesn’t have a reason to question the Praetor so he doesn’t, pressing in a code to grant you and Mingyu entrance.

On one side, weapons are systematically arranged, ranging from traditional Roman weaponry like gladii and pila to more advanced armaments. Each item is cataloged and labeled for easy retrieval.

Adjacent to the weapons, designated zones contain carefully stacked supplies—armor, shields, medical provisions, and other essentials.

At the heart of the Limenarium is a central command area, featuring a console with intricate displays monitoring the inventory. High-ranking officers like you and Mingyu can access detailed information about the stored assets from this central hub.

You and Mingyu survey the interior of the command area until Mingyu finally pulls out what he’s looking for. 

“Here it is,” Mingyu announces, pulling out the emblem of the golden eagle.

The emblem of the golden eagle represents the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, a powerful Roman demigod military unit in New Rome. This legion is closely associated with Jupiter, the Roman counterpart of Zeus, and Mingyu’s father.

The golden eagle serves as a symbol of divine protection and the legion’s connection to the gods.

The emblem embodies the strength, authority, and divine favor that the legion believes it possesses.

If wielded properly, tendrils of lightning will surge from the eagle’s beak and electrocute the wielder’s enemies to death in a single instance.

“You’re giving it to Jungkook?” you question, to which Mingyu nods.

“Anything to salvage our relationship,” he shrugs. 

-

You stand in front of the podium, fully armored and steadily observing the Greeks who walk into the Senate House. They stroll along the golden carpet, flanked by Roman Legion soldiers securing its every edge.

You quickly notice Rose, a childhood friend, and lately, it seems she identifies more with the Greeks at Camp Half-Blood than with the Romans, often spending more time there than with you. 

You see Taehyung son of Poseidon, Namjoon son of Athena, and the sacrifices for Tartarus: Jungkook son of Ares and (OC) daughter of Hephaestus.

The tension becomes palpable, the air charged with electricity, as you instinctively glance around to see if Mingyu is subtly demonstrating his son of Jupiter abilities.

The Greeks are a direct juxtaposition to the Romans. The Legion is equipped with full body armor while the Greeks are comfortably dressed in Camp Half-Blood T-Shirts. 

Your eyes narrow in on Taehyung, a son of Poseidon who is adorned in an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, sweatshorts, and sandals.

Had you not been sacrificing his friends you would have reprimanded him wearing such sleazy attire.

The Greeks leisurely traverse the expanse of the golden carpet, their steps echoing in the grand hall, until they finally arrive at the imposing podium. 

Positioned steadfastly by the podium, you assume your post, with the Praetors standing in a composed formation behind you, forming a united front to address the impending proceedings.

Taehyung approaches, shielding his friends, and his face becomes dangerously close to yours. His face exudes cockiness, a smug smirk gracing his lips as he tilts his head, rummaging in his pockets for a pen. 

He holds it up, almost taunting you as he arrogantly bites his lips. 

Riptide or Anaklusmos- the name of his sword.

You are fully cognizant of the pen's true nature. By pressing its base, the pen undergoes a transformation, morphing into a Celestial Bronze sword.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Put the weapon away.”

Taehyung amusedly scoffs. “So you guys are allowed to be dressed up in full body armor, but we can’t pull up with weapons for self defense?” he mocks, “And you guys are the ones sacrificing our people too. The Romans are heartless,” he muses, placing a faux hand over his heart.

You sigh. 

“Troops! Fall back!” you yell, acquiescing to Taehyung’s very valid point.

He tilts his head provocatively, pressing on the end of the pen to unveil his blade. “You know what they say, when in Rome…” His eyes glaze over his blade, admiring its beauty before he redirects his gaze towards your face. 

It looks bad- a Greek unsheathing his sword directly in front of the Tribunus Laticlavius was a clear sign of a threat. The soldiers around you assume offensive stances and you put your hand up, ordering them to fall back.

“Taehyung- we don’t want to do this. If you don’t put the weapon away, we’re going to have to kick you out,” you reason, pulling off your helmet. Perhaps showing him your face would allow him to sense your humanity- your sincerity. 

You know that Taehyung has every right to be upset, and you’re trying to show him the right amount of respect without offending the Roman Legion.

Your hair falls back against your armor, and you attempt to offer him a tight-lipped smile to build some sort of camaraderie during this extremely difficult situation.

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you before tapping on the sword to turn it back into a pen. He turns back to his friends. “Nothing to worry about here! It’s just a kid of Minerva!” he announces- loudly, before returning to his friends.

Your eye twitches, but you refuse to fall in your composure. 

Typical of a son of Poseidon, you sneer in your mind.

Your mother’s Greek counterpart Athena and Poseidon were known to have hated each other for centuries. Athena and Poseidon's rivalry stems from a competition over patronage of the city of Athens, with Athena's practical and beneficial gift of the olive tree winning over Poseidon's more destructive and less useful gift of a salty spring.

Poseidon was a sore loser. He was salty that his niece beat him in a competition over the patronage of Athens and has held a grudge since. Since then, family reunions have been painfully awkward- with passive aggressive comments and strained silences filling the air. 

Men. They’re the worst. Talk about a sleazy uncle! Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree! Nonetheless, you digress. 

Taehyung walks up the stairs of the Senate House to directly address the Praetors Mina and Mingyu. 

“We’re giving you guys one last chance to reconsider- and look- we’ll sacrifice (OC) and Jungkook to prevent war with Camp Jupiter but afterwards we request that you leave us alone. Camp Half-Blood wants nothing to do with Camp Jupiter.”

You remain rigid, staring at the wall in front of you instead of directly looking at Taehyung.

Mingyu sighs, “Dude, don’t do this. You know we’re just trying to protect the camp,” he reasons. 

Taehyung creases his brows, “You’re killing innocent people. Jungkook and (OC) did nothing wrong, and you know that,” he seethes. “I mean- what happened to us? I thought we were friends? Mina’s not gonna fuck you if you follow her every order like a dog.”

Scandalous gasps echo throughout the room before a looming silence lulls over the Senate House. The silence is so oppressive that you could hear a pin drop.

You wince, anticipating Mina’s response before Mingyu cuts her off. 

“Alright, fair,” Mingyu relents, “You can talk your shit so long as you comply with the Legion’s orders.”

A smirk decorates Taehyung’s lips. “Oh I will talk my shit. The Romans are pathetic. You guys are scared shitless of Tartarus but us Greeks are gladly willing to plummet straight into his domain.”

Mina clears her throat, “And we applaud you for your courage. This sacrifice will not be undermined by the Roman Legion. We will do anything to keep our sacred city safe. If you wish to cut ties with Camp Jupiter, so be it.”

Her words are decisive and you can’t fathom Taehyung coming up with another snarky response - but he does. 

His eyes become rigidly serious, and with a commanding gesture, he manipulates his palms. Silence falls over the onlookers as Taehyung effortlessly conures tendrils of water into the Senate House, the liquid dancing within Taehyung’s predetermined boundaries. 

The water coils around Mingyu’s neck and torso, ensnaring him like ethereal ropes. You realize that the water is from the Little Tiber, a river miles away from the Senate HOuse. 

You can’t even imagine the extent to which  Taehyung can manipulate water. 

“Let it be known,” Taehyung seethes, tightening his fists to further suffocate Mingyu within his tendrils of water, “that the Greeks are doing this out of their own free will,” he declares.

“You did not force us to do anything, and we are doing this for the sake of peace. Understand?”

Mingyu’s face turns an ungodly shade of red and Taehyung narrows his eyes at his former friend, tightening his fist even further. 

Nobody is intervening, and you reckon that you ought to stop Taehyung from suffocating Mingyu so you momentarily consider stepping in- until Rose places a hand on his bicep.

He lets go of his fist, and the tendrils of water splash onto the ground of the Senate House. 

Mingyu remains stoic, inhaling heavily. Despite near suffocation, he remains his composure, standing mightily like a Roman statue.

You shift uncomfortably, and Mina makes an announcement. “The Legion is dismissed! Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter will reconvene in the Praetorium in thirty minutes!”

With a swish of her cape, she marches away, with Mingyu following in her stead.

You remain in class, saluting the Praetors whilst you wait for the Senate House to clear out.

Once the Legion has cleared from the Senate House, you clear your throat and immediately shed yourself of your armor.

You approach the Greeks. “I need you guys to follow me,” you implore.

Camp Half-Blood (and Rose) slowly turn their heads towards you.

Taehyung blinks. “Why would we do that?”

You sigh, though you already anticipated pushback, and redirect your attention to Rose. “Look. Mingyu and I tried to talk Mina out of it but you know we can’t do anything against the highest ranking Praetor.”

Rose’s expression softens, “Gods Mina has lost her shit! You can’t just sacrifice innocent people to Tartarus!”

You nod in concurrence- politically savvy enough not to explicitly express any opinion.

“I get why you’re mad,” you continue, “the very least I can do is offer help,” you whisper, to which everybody’s expressions become enveloped in curiosity.

You clear your throat. “Mingyu wants to give you the Golden Eagle of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata,” you explain, to which Rose’s eyes widen.

“Seriously? That was gifted to the Legion by Jupiter himself,” she elicits.

You nod. “I know what Camp Jupiter is doing is awful- but at the very least I can tell you that I personally am not your enemy.”

You redirect your attention to Jungkook and (OC). “You guys survived Tartarus once, and you can do it again,” you encourage, “I’ll be doing everything above ground to eliminate the threat and ensure that you remain safe.”

Taehyung snaps his fingers in your face. “Hey, no addressing the sacrifices directly. You gotta talk to me. I’m the spokesperson here.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay,” you comply. “So do you want the eagle or not?”

Namjoon and Taehyung exchange glances.

“Yea, we’re in.”

-

You take Camp Half-Blood directly to the Limenarium- moving underground to stay out of sight to the other Roman citizens.

Skirting underground, Taehyung addresses you. “Don’t you think your military system is impractical?” he questions, probably with genuine intent but his tone is condescending, “If you can’t stop Mina from doing stupid shit then you might as well consider Rome a tyranny.”

“Yes,” you respond, somewhat irritated, “But Mina has the backing of the emperor. If the emperor is in on it, then there’s nothing we can do. They had to conspire to murder Caesar for a reason.”

Taehyung’s features envelop in distaste. “Don’t you feel belittled? You’re a high ranking officer but you have no freedom.”

You don’t give him a response.

A teasing smile graces his lips, “Did I hit a nerve, princess?”

You blink at him irritatedly.

You’d happily oblige to discuss the impracticalities of the Roman military system, but Taehyung is simply insufferable.

You decide that it’d be wise to keep quiet.

As you skirt through the underground tunnels of the Limenarium, you’re suddenly stopped by a ginormous basin of water. It’s so deep that when you peer over the ledge, you aren’t able to perceive the bottom.

All eyes flicker towards you.

“Since when did Camp Jupiter have an underground pool?” Rose asks.

You shrug. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen this before.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Taehyung can carry us over on a wave or we can swim.”

At that, you tense, and you meet eyes with Rose. Rose, another one of your childhood friends, is ineptly aware of your biggest and only fear: water.

Taehyung nonchalantly shrugs, effortlessly lifting his shirt with a casual demeanor - after all, why would he be phased? As a son of Poseidon, water poses no threat. "Meh. I don't feel like exerting any energy right now."

A sudden confession escapes your lips, breaking the silence of the tunnels. "Wait- I can't swim."

The stillness that follows feels almost tangible, and you can't help but blush, baring your own vulnerability.

Taehyung blinks, his gaze fixed on you. "Wait, you're the head of the Roman Legion, but you can't swim?"

Namjoon elbows Taehyung, prompting him to clear his throat. "No, it's not a bad thing. I was a little taken aback," he explains. "I can carry you over if you're comfortable with that."

Your cheeks flush deeper as you rub your biceps nervously. "Y-yeah. If that's alright."

With a confident yet gentle motion, Taehyung lifts you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes meet his, and you awkwardly clear your throat before looking away. 

He does the same, gaze uncomfortably flickering around the underground tunnel. 

A subtle but undeniable tension lingers in the air. The closeness and the rhythmic beating of your heart mix with the soft echoes of the underground tunnels.

“Hold on tight, wise girl,” Taehyung instructs. 

“I know-”

A sudden wave rushes forward, freezing in place as if offering Taehyung a seat on his throne. 

He leisurely steps onto the wave and allows it to gently carry you towards the other side. He doesn’t appear to be smug as he usually is- walking on water is a normal thing for this son of Poseidon. 

As the wave approaches the other side of the basin, a rumble echoes through the tavern. 

“What the-” 

The wave crashes, and with a splash, you and Taehyung tumble into the water below. The serene water basin transforms into tumultuous currents, hurling you against its surface as you cry for air. 

Panicked, you thrash about in the water, desperately trying to stay afloat. 

You hate water. If you were Greek, you'd have no doubt that water would be your Achilles' heel. Arguably, you were good at everything else- having a keen sense of strategy, arguably great sword fighting skills- but water is just something you could never conquer. 

Physically, your lungs burn as they strain for oxygen. Your limbs are heavy and sluggish as you struggle against the water’s resistance and every movement becomes a battle against the suffocating pressure. 

“Taehyung!” you scream, thrashing against the water as you strain for air. 

"It's okay, I've got you," he reassures, his voice calm yet firm above the sound of rushing water. "Just hold onto me."

He appears beside you and you cling onto him as he uses his mind to calm the currents, gently treading to the other side. You hyperventilate intensely, squeezing your eyes shut while you hold onto him-  convincing yourself that everything would be okay. 

He makes it to the other side of the basin, willing the water to lift you onto the ground before he jumps on the surface. 

You sit on the gravel- clothes wet, body trembling as you catch your breath and attempt to calm yourself from drowning.   

Rose sits beside you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, before she full on embraces you. “Gods Y/N, are you alright?” She turns towards Taehyung, “Tae- what the fuck was that? Did you do that on purpose?”

You look up, and Taehyung’s expression looks rigidly serious. “That hasn’t happened to me in like ten years,” he mumbles. He looks around the tunnel apprehensively, “I have no clue.”

Another thing you note is that Taehyung is completely dry. After being submerged under waves and currents, he appears like he’s ready to go for a leisure stroll in the park. 

Namjoon finishes his swim from the other side and climbs onto the ground. “Maybe you got nervous,” he shrugs, ringing the water from his socks. 

“Nervous from what?” Taehyung retorts, “Nervous because of the Tribunal Prostate-us?,” he mocks, pointing at you with his thumb, “Yea, definitely not.”

“Taehyung!” Rose scolds. 

You gawk- there was no absolute no way he just referred to you as a prostate. “I’m the Tribunus Laticlavus,” you clarify through gritted teeth. 

“Well, princess- that doesn’t sound any cooler,” Taehyung retorts. “A thank you for saving your life would suffice. Thank you very much.”

You’re fuming from your ears. “Your father is the literal god of the Sea and you couldn’t control a ten foot wave across still waters. It would have been your fault if anything happened to me!”

“I said I don’t know what happened! You Romans probably did something to manipulate the water!”

“I didn’t even know that we had a random swimming pool in here! How would I do that?” you reason. 

“Then don’t expect me to know everything either,” Taehyung responds with a roll of his eyes, “Now lead the way princess. We need that eagle.” And with that he dramatically marches past- he might as well have flipped his hair in your face. 

Rose gives you an empathetic look, mouthing Sorry Y/N. 

-

After supplying the Greeks with weapons necessary to survive a plummet in Tartarus, you reconvene with Mina and Mingyu at the Praetorium. 

Mina scans her finger before the ten of you enter the elevator, and the elevator descends swiftly to a secret underground location that you’ve only frequented once before. 

Mina guides your group to a secret underground pit- a pit that leads straight to Tartarus. 

Jungkook and (OC) stand at the edge of the pit, their expressions resolute despite the gravity of the situation. The darkness of Tartarus yawns below them, an abyss that seems to swallow all light and hope.

(OC) takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She casts a fleeting glance at Jungkook, her eyes filled with determination. "We can do this," she murmurs, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart

Jungkook nods in agreement, his jaw set with determination. "Together," he affirms, his voice carrying a note of reassurance.

With a shared nod, they step forward, their bodies silhouetted against the inky darkness below. For a moment, they stand on the precipice, their resolve steeling them against the fear that threatens to consume them.

And then, without hesitation, they leap into the void, their figures disappearing into the blackness of Tartarus. 

You exhale shakily- and you can’t help but wonder if you just played a part in sending two innocent people to their doom. 

As they vanish from sight, a heavy silence descends upon the onlookers, the weight of their sacrifice hanging in the air like a shroud.

For a long moment, no one speaks, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions. 

Then, Mingyu breaks the silence, his voice low but firm. "They've made their sacrifice," he says, his words echoing in the stillness of the underground chamber. "Now it's up to us to honor it."

With a solemn nod, Mina steps forward, her gaze unwavering. "Agreed," she says, her voice carrying the weight of command. "Let us return to Camp Jupiter and prepare for what lies ahead. Tartarus may have claimed its toll, but we will not falter in our duty to protect our home."

Taehyung fights the urge to roll his eyes, “How heroic,” he unemotionally states, gesticulating mockingly. “You just banished your two friends to Tartarus- how does that make you feel?” he challenges, glaring spathas into Mina and Mingyu. 

“Bro,” Mingyu starts, switching his Praetor off and his Mingyu mode on. 

“Don’t bro me,” Taehyung retorts, before redirecting his attention towards Mina. 

“When you went to Korea three years ago,” he begins, “Who took you out to Michelin meals? Who rented out a place for you to stay? Jungkook did. And (OC)- (OC) is your friend. I still don’t get how you could just sacrifice them in good faith.”

Mina shifts uncomfortably. “Look. The decision wasn’t easy to make. If you care so much, why don’t you jump in after them?”

The silence that follows is oppressive. 

“You bitch!” Rose seethes, tackling Mina towards the edge of the cliff before she holds up her spatha in Mina’s face. 

Mina doesn’t resist, her features morphing into insanity, as if imploring Rose to do it. 

Rose pushes Mina’s body closer to the edge of the pit, to the point where Mina’s head hangs above the pit. “Do it! Push me in! See where it gets Camp Half-Blood!” she growls.

You almost fall to your knees. You deplore Mina’s words. Rose holds her spatha closer to Mina’s cheek, almost drawing blood from her face. 

The structure of the underground room begins to crumble, and debris of gravel begins to rain down on you. 

As your eyes fall upon Mina, a wave of unease washes over you. The woman standing before you bears little resemblance to the Mina you once knew. Her features are now twisted with a manic intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. 

The light in her eyes, once a steady foundation of Roman principles, burns with an unsettling hue, almost as if they are fueled by a fire of madness.

It's as if a shadow has fallen over her soul, casting her in a dark and unfamiliar light. The Mina you know would never be so cruel, so callous in her actions. She was always fair, always just, guided by the principles of honor and duty that define the Roman Legion.

But now, her words cut like knives, her actions driven by a ruthless determination that borders on fanaticism. She seems blind to reason, deaf to the voices of those who would counsel restraint and compassion. This isn't the direction the Roman Legion should take, you realize. This isn't what the gods want for Rome.

You glance an apologetic look towards Mingyu before you run to Rose and tug on her arm, urging her to stand. You intertwine your fingers and run to Namjoon and Taehyung. 

“Mom!” you scream into the atmosphere, “Mom, if you hear me, take us to Camp Half-Blood! Mom! Please! I never ask for anything! Please!”

The room begins to tremble even further, like an earthquake shaking the foundation of the rooms. The Romanesque pillars begin to tremble and you hear Mina scream “Y/N! If you leave, I will revoke your position in the Roman Legion!”

You look around at yours and the Greek’s arms, and realize that you’re all turning translucent. 

Your mom heard your wish. 

"I resign!" you exclaim, and with a sudden burst of energy, you, Rose, Namjoon, and Taehyung are transported into the heart of Camp Half-Blood.

As you glance around, you find yourself amidst the cluster of cabins, with a warm hearth the only light illuminating the pitch black sky. The cabins of Athena, Apollo, Ares, and Hephaestus stand tall around you, each emanating a unique aura.

You fall to your knees. 

“Holy shit,” Taehyung begins, “What just happened?

-

The Big House in Camp Half-Blood, with its grand columns and welcoming interior, serves as the central hub for meetings and discussions among the camp's staff and campers, and that is exactly where you meet with Taehyung, Namjoon, Rose, and Chiron the Camp Activities Director.

Chiron is a centaur, meaning that he’s a horse from the waist down and a human from the waist up. 

After explaining the situation at hand, Chiron’s expression becomes clouded with empathy. 

“That was a very brave thing you did, Y/N,” he expresses. He redirects his attention towards Taehyung, Rose, and Namjoon. 

“Kids,” he begins, though the lot can hardly be considered children, “I think Y/N deserves to know. Why don’t you tell her?”

You sharply turn your gaze towards the trio, only to find them whistling nonchalantly as if feigning ignorance. Rose idly twirls a strand of her hair, while Taehyung casually tucks his hands into his pockets.

Namjoon sighs. “That wasn’t Jungkook or (OC) who jumped into Tartarus. It was other demigods that Rose disguised with the Mist.”

“What?” you express shakily. 

“The Mist, Y/N,”  Rose explains, “Remember how we snuck into the Emperor’s chambers by disguising ourselves as servants with magic? The Greeks call it the Mist, so I disguised Jungkook and (OC’s) little siblings as the Mist to evade capture.”

Taehyung frowns. “Wait, why’d you guys sneak into the Emperor’s chambers-”

You sigh. You aren’t even surprised. The Greeks would never willingly sacrifice their strongest demigods so easily. “So is that why they weren’t saying anything… why you were the ‘spokesperson’?” you ask Taehyung to which he flashes you with a wink. 

His mood seems as unpredictable as the shifting waves of the ocean.

But it doesn’t make sense. 

“The other demigods you disguised,” you begin, “Wouldn’t they be in equal danger? Jungkook and (OC) have the best chances of surviving Tartarus, so didn’t you just send the others to their doom?”

Namjoon tsks, “Don’t underestimate the Greeks. The kids we sent are just as capable.”

“Kids?” you repeat, before shoving your face into your hands. 

What have you done? You should have challenged Mina more aggressively. You might have just condemned two innocent kids to their doom. 

“Mina,” you begin, “I think- I think she’s possessed,” you finally elicit, backtracking from the original topic because you can’t fathom what you just witnessed. 

“Possessed?” Chiron asks, brows furrowing in pure concern. 

“Possessed,” you confirm, “The way she was acting- it just wasn’t her. I have no idea who was in that room with us but it wasn’t her.”

Rose’s expression morphs into one of empathy. “Y/N,” she begins, “Mina isn’t the same girl we grew up with. She’s changed. She’s not possessed, she’s just grown into a bitch. A bitch who somehow has the power of the entire Roman Legion at her fingertips.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “She did look a little… insane,” he acknowledges. 

“That’s because she is insane!” Rose retorts, “Ever since (OC) came back to life with the Physician’s Cure, she’s turned into a power-hungry, batshit psycho!”

Namjoon exhales, “Look, we can definitely consider that as a possibility, but for now let’s get some rest.”He shoots you an empathetic look, “I’m sure Y/N is tired. We can all reconvene tomorrow morning with Jungkook and (OC).”

You shake your head, though it’s apparent you’re fighting back a yawn. “It’s fine. We have a lot of things we need to figure out. I can still go at it if you guys can.” 

“Oh don’t act all tough. You did have a long day, Ex Tribunal Prostate-us,” Taehyung starts. 

You shoot him a deadly glare. 

“You can stay in the Poseidon cabin with me. There’s no one in there besides me so we have plenty of space,” Taehyung offers, shrugging. “We’ve got a huge pool on the roof. I can even teach you how to swim, y’know, help you overcome your fear of water.”

“Wait,” Namjoon intervenes, “Why would she stay in the Poseidon cabin?”

“Why not?” Taehyung responds, eliciting a suspicious glance from Rose. 

“Y/N is technically my sister,” Namjoon reasons, furrowing his brows at Taehyung, “She should stay with me.”

“Oh,” is all Taehyung can conjure. 

And Namjoon has a point. Why in Mount Olympus would you ever stay in the Poseidon cabin? You never really considered Namjoon a blood relative, but he is the son of your mother’s Greek form Athena, so technically he is your brother. 

“Though it would be most appropriate for Y/N to stay in the Athena cabin,” Chiron instructs, “She is an adult and can decide to stay where she pleases.”

“You could stay with me too,” Rose offers, “But I’m not about to gladiator-fight for a chance to spend the night with you like this one is,” she teases, tilting her head at Taehyung. 

Taehyung seems very offended at that, expression morphing into disgust as he crosses his arms in indignation. He scoffs. “Gods forbid I show hospitality to a guest,”

A teasing smile graces Namjoon’s lips. “Why’re you getting so offended? You were just at her throat hours ago,” Namjoon points out to which Rose nods. “Yea, you were being an ass, Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches, and he directs his attention towards you. “Do you want to stay with me or not?”

You blink at him before meeting eyes with Rose. 

“Yea, why not?”

-

On your way to the Poseidon cabin, Rose runs towards you and squeals, almost knocking you over. “Y/N, are you going to fuck him?”

What is it with this girl and assuming her friends are going to fuck everyone? 

“What is wrong with you?” you retort, nudging her with your shoulder, 

Rose rolls her eyes, “Yea, sure. Don’t think I can’t sense the sexual tension between you two,” she elicits. 

“What in Minerva’s name are you on about?” you counter. 

“Y/N, he literally wants you so bad! I’ve never seen anybody act like this before- why else would he insist for you to spend the night with him?”

“Maybe because he pities me so much that he feels the need to interject himself into my life to teach me how to swim?”

Rose's eyes narrow, disbelief evident in her expression as she listens to your response. She lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head in frustration.

"Y/N, come on," she urges, her voice tinged with incredulity. "You really think it's just about swimming? Taehyung is practically throwing himself at you."

You scoff, feeling a flush of irritation rising within you. "Oh please, Rose. That's absurd. We're just… acquaintances. Besides, Taehyung is..." You pause, searching for the right words. "Well, he's Taehyung."

Rose raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Exactly. He's Taehyung. And trust me, I know the signs. The way he looks at you, the things he says, it's all there."

You shake your head, “Even if those are his intentions- they’re not mine. I think Taehyung was sent by my mother- as a way to help me overcome my fear of water,” you explain, “I’ve never told anyone but when I was younger I had a dream. I had a dream where I was drowning and some boy saved me. I never understood why my mom sent me that dream but I think he’s the key- the key to helping me overcome my Achilles’ Heel.”

Rose pauses, toying with her lip in contemplation. “Look, I was gonna say something funny like you’re just trying to sleep with him, but I’m happy for you. If you really feel like your mom is calling you to do this, then you should do it.” 

With that, she embraces you, and you soften in her embrace. “Maybe also because he’s cute.”

A scandalous gasp leaves her lips, “Y/N!”

On cue, Taehyung appears from behind. “Poseidon cabin’s the opposite direction from the Apollo cabin,” he explains, tilting his head in the direction of his cabin. “Follow me this way.”

Without even asking, he takes the guest backpack Chiron gifted you, containing toiletries and clothing, before he strides up the hill, leaving you to follow in his stead. 

You give Rose one last fleeting look who mouths Use Protection!1!

-

The Poseidon cabin stands as a marvel of innovation (courtesy to the Hephaestus cabin) and aquatic wonder within Camp Half-Blood. 

The door frame is fashioned entirely from polished seashells arranged in intricate patterns. Stepping through the doorway, you are greeted by a spacious interior that echoes the vastness of the ocean itself. 

In the living room of the Poseidon cabin, a large flat-screen TV stands against one wall, surrounded by plush seating and adorned with nautical-themed decor. There’s a stuffed hippocampus on the blue couch and the walls are painted in soothing shades of blue and green. 

“We have lots of rooms. You can choose one out of the ten,” Taehyung shoots you a hospitable smile and you can’t help but laugh. 

The hallway in the Poseidon cabin is calm and decorated with ocean themes and soft lights shine on the polished wooden floors. 

Pictures of the sea and mythical creatures decorate the walls. There’s a selfie of a few hippocampi with Taehyung’s face in the corner throwing up a peace sign. THere’s another with Taehyung sitting on a rock with like ten mermaids laid around him, and there’s another with Taehyung in swim shorts with who you assume to be a Nereid or Sea Nymph in a bikini. 

Each door is marked with a unique symbol representing the occupant's connection to the sea, whether it be a trident, a seashell, or a cresting wave. Perhaps the symbols are chosen randomly, as Taehyung is the only resident in the cabin. 

But Taehyung’s symbol- his symbol scares you somewhat. The symbol on his door is a roaring kraken. Krakens are legendary sea monsters, often described as a giant cephalopod resembling a giant octopus or squid. 

He throws open all the doors, allowing you to peek around to choose your room of residence for the night. 

He grins at you, “You think this is nice? You should see the Hephaestus cabin. There’s like ten stories in there.”

“I like it here,” you offer sweetly, “I’ll take the seashell room.”

“All yours,” Taehyung shrugs, “I’ll take you to the pool in like ten minutes once you’ve gotten settled in.” With that, he sends you one last smile before sauntering off to your room. 

You exhale deeply as you take a seat on the bed. With your palms on your thighs, you rewind everything that happened today like a broken record. 

All your years of working your way up the ranks of the Roman Legion- it was all for nothing. With Mina’s control over the Legion, you’re sure you’ll be trespassed if you ever decided to step back into Camp Jupiter. 

You shake your head at the thought, opening the guest bag Chiron gave you. 

There’s three fresh Camp Half-Blood T-shirts, a fresh pack of underwear, three pairs of jeans, and a bag of toiletries. 

No bra. 

“Taehyung, do you guys have a washing machine?” you call out, and when he appears in the doorway with a toothbrush in his mouth, all he does is shake his head. 

“But I can wash whatever you want for you,” he offers with a froth of toothpaste around his mouth. 

“Okay give me a second,” you say. 

He nods and closes the door, allowing you to do your thing. You step out of your clothes and throw on the Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt, underwear, and shorts. All are a little oversized on you, but it works. 

You walk  to the door and open it, handing Taehyung a pile of clothes. He looks fresh. No more toothbrush in his mouth and his face is freshly washed. He walks over to the bathroom and places your clothes in the sink. “Watch this.”

With precision, he manipulates the water into a swirling vortex, effectively creating a makeshift washing machine. 

“Put your clothes in there,” he directs. You tiptoe around him, plucking up your clothes and throwing it into the vortex, careful to not directly touch the water. 

“Okay now pour some detergent in here,” he says, “It’s in the cabinet under the sink.”

You crouch under the vortex, opening the cabinet doors. “Okay, don’t get me wet.”

“I’ll try,” he responds. 

Suddenly, Rose’s patronizing face appears in your mind, and you pause, stifling back a laugh. 

“Hurry up, princess. We don’t have all day.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and pour the detergent into the swirling vortex. 

With a deft flick of his wrist, Taehyung adjusts the flow of water within the vortex, ensuring the detergent mixes thoroughly with the clothes. 

Once satisfied with the washing process, Taehyung gradually slows the vortex, allowing the soapy water to drain away while leaving the clothes damp but not dripping wet. 

With another subtle gesture, he manipulates the surrounding air currents, generating a gentle breeze that wafts through the room, aiding in the drying process.

As the clothes hang suspended in mid-air, supported by invisible currents, Taehyung watches attentively, adjusting the airflow as needed to ensure even drying.

With a satisfied nod, Taehyung releases his hold on the air currents, allowing the clothes to settle onto a nearby drying rack. He turns to you with a grin, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with amusement.

"There you go, all done," he declares, gesturing towards the freshly washed and dried clothes. "See, who needs a washing machine when you've got a son of Poseidon?"

You smile with tight lips. “Thank you, Tae.”

He shrugs. “No problem. Wanna go for a swim now? You look cute in that shirt.”

-

You don’t know how an innocent swim lesson turned into a hot makeout session in the rooftop pool, but somehow it did. 

Your legs are wrapped around his waist, and he whispers into your lips, “Hmmm.. didn’t know a high ranking officer of the Roman Legion could loosen up like this.”

You playfully roll your eyes and draw your lips back to his like a magnetic pull. His tongue explores your mouth, groaning into your lips as his hands sneakily move down to your ass, shamelessly grabbing a handful of your butt past the oversized Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. 

He flutters his eyes open, watching your every expression as you moan and grind against his abs. 

Gods, are you so undeniably gorgeous. Taehyung never thought he would become so enamored with a daughter of Minerva, and a Roman at that, but he so obsessively asked you to stay at his under the guise of teaching you how to swim. 

Yea, right. 

You clearly didn’t give a fuck about swimming and who cares if he’ll be there to save you from drowning anyways?

Your orange T-shirt is sopping wet, and Taehyung lifts its bottom hem, meeting eyes with you for permission. 

You remove your arms from around his neck, ensuring that your fingertips trace over his abs in the process, and he lifts the wet shirt off your body and throws it onto the gravel poolside. 

He gulps with your body fully exposed to him. Your bare chest perks up against the cold atmosphere, and Taehyung has to restrain himself from taking you fully right then and there. Your hair is wet, falling against your back, and his eyes look at you with such clarity. 

He thinks it’s particularly special that he has you in his own domain: water. Energy surges through his veins, and he feels especially strong and eager with the water splashing against his body. 

You look so beautiful under the moonlight, like a celestial goddess descended from the heavens above. Every shimmering reflection in the water only adds to your ethereal glow, and in this moment, he can't help but feel like the luckiest person alive to have you here with him.

Gods, he thought you were such a pretentious princess when he first met you. A pretty, pretentious, princess- at that. But it only took a matter of hours for him to realize that you’re so much more. You're not just a princess; you're a warrior, a survivor, and a force to be reckoned with.

Before you know it, your lips meet in a heated kiss, fueled by a potent mixture of desire and longing. The rush of adrenaline courses through your veins as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of Taehyung's lips moving against yours, each touch igniting a fiery passion within you.

You pull back. “‘m cold,” you cutely mumble against his neck as you suck a kiss against his skin. 

You’re cold? Taehyung thinks he would burn the whole world just to warm you up.

“Sorry about that,” Taehyung grins, carrying you to the poolside before allowing you to sit on the ledge. 

You shiver uncontrollably as the cool night air kisses your bare skin, sending goosebumps cascading down your arms and spine. 

Sensing your discomfort, Taehyung leaps gracefully from the pool, his movements fluid and agile, and swiftly retrieves a plush towel to cocoon you in its warmth.

Leaning close, he offers you a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with genuine concern as he guides you out of the pool area and down the stairs, each step feeling like a small victory against the biting cold.

Once you reach the hallways, the towel drops, and you end the night in the room with the emblem of a kraken on its door. 

-

The next morning, you wake up and are met with a sleepy Taehyung dozing off beside you. 

 You inhale, immediately running into the seashell room before you quickly change into an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt and jeans. 

You sneak out of the Poseidon cabin and run to the Big House, where you’re met with Rose and Namjoon who are ready to discuss plans. 

Rose hands you an orange and you accept it willingly, starting to peel it with your fingertips. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” Namjoon asks, to which you just shrug. 

“No clue. We went our separate ways after showing me to my room,” you respond, eyes flickering towards Rose who scrutinizes you with an intense look of suspicion. She approaches you and leans over your shoulder. “You should hide the hickey, girl.”

You whip around, feigning ignorance. “What hickey? Huh?”

Rose facepalms. “Just- just- nothing.”

On cue Taehyung walks into the Big House, taking a seat by you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he leans into your shoulder. “Hey, why didn’t you wake me up?” he whispers into your neck, to which you dramatically jerk away. 

Taehyung eyes you with a confused look before inching closer. 

You look at Rose and Namjoon, who are looking at you weirdly and you can’t help but shoot up, dragging him outside. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper yell at him. 

“What?” Taehyung releases, “I just thought, y’know, after last night that we…” He rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly. 

“No,” you immediately clarify, your voice as stern as ever. “No. That was a one time thing- a stress reliever, a one night stand- whatever you want to call it. We have more important things to worry about now- like how Tartarus wants to kill us all, so get your shit together!”

With that, you leave a dumbfounded Taehyung outside and stomp back into the Big House. 

Rose and Namjoon don’t need to ask anything- they might have even heard your conversation from inside but nothing needs to be said. 

You hooked up with him, and that was nice, But now, as you come back to your senses, you realize that it was just that - a moment. 

It was nice, perhaps even enjoyable, but it doesn't change the reality of your situation. You're not looking for anything serious- there are bigger things to worry about. 

Taehyung walks back in, extremely irritable as he takes the seat farthest away from you. 

“Oh gods,” Namjoon mumbles. 

In a sudden and unexpected moment, the atmosphere shifts, and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, the air crackles with energy. Like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness, the oracle materializes before you, its presence both awe-inspiring and chilling.

With eyes glowing an intense shade of green, the oracle's ethereal form seems to pulse with otherworldly power. You feel a sense of unease creeping over you as its voice resonates through the air, echoing with a mystical resonance that sends shivers down your spine.

“In the tumult of tides, destinies entwine,

One born of sea, one of the wise divine.

Amidst the depths where fears reside,

Unity sought, their fears defied.

In the clash of Greeks and Romans, a call resounds,

Together they stand, where unity abounds.

Through waters deep, their fears they'll tame,

In shared resolve, they'll forge their claim”

Oh gods. 

[revoevokukil]

When we talk about Ciri, we don't talk much about her own latent ability to see/predict the future, and what it could imply. It's Sunday morning; time for a tea cup theory sesh.

So, coming off Dune - a clear influence on some storylines and characters in the Witcher - could Ciri's capacity for prescience (foresight, prophecy, visions) have blocked her choices and actions from being accurately predicted and seen by someone like Avallac'h who - as an Aen Saevherne - otherwise has abilities almost identical to Kwisatz Haderach?

Was Ciri's escape from Tir ná Lia a certainty or a probability?

It's noted in Dune, how prescients are more or less blind to the movements of other figures with foresight, because people with oracular powers act on the information from the future and actively alter the future this way (disrupting the ability of other prescients to accurately predict the future). They stand "outside" the vision in lieu of an inherent ability to introduce variance in it.

A clairvoyant can't even necessarily see the definite future, but they can see Time so totally (the "when" is not a place), all its possibilities included, that they can create the future; matching, at that, with their goals. They are like ultra-heavy bodies in a field, warping it around themselves. However, if there are those standing outside of the vision, then dictating the future is not entirely possible, for there will always be unknown agentic elements that can turn the tides.

Ciri would be such an element in Avallac'h's and the prescient elves' prophecies and vision of time eternal.

I am pointing to this lore crossover, because let's face it, the Bene Gesserit and later Leto II's breeding programmes are exactly the kind of thing that was done in regard to Hen Ichaer, the Elder Blood, among elves. Breed prescient beings capable of seeing the past, present, and future (i.e. time total; the now) AND moving themselves in time and space (that's the Aen Saevherne) AND from time to time get a Chosen One for whom it's possible to open the Great Gate of Time (that's Lara's would-be child or Ciri's children). Secondly, Ciri, the child of destiny and hope, is so because of a kind of 'uncertainty field' that surrounds her -> she is, arguably, the most agentic, free will-questing character in the tale. The story ends up being about (ensuring) her ability to choose - to doom, to save, to act as she wills regardless of her parentage, powerful actors' manipulations, or the world's expectations.

(Sure, The Witcher is reeeeeaalllly loose with its causal structure (things go the way they go because magic aka "the will of the author, who plays within folklore tropes and story analogues", mostly); it has nothing on Dune in this regard. We can have a classical mechanics Ciri, a quantum-Ciri, or a magical/literary-Ciri. But the ambiguity allows for crossover-theories like this one, so that's fine by me.)

At Tir ná Lia, Ciri has visions of a future where things unfold without her interference: Yennefer drowns, Geralt freezes to death. It's not conscious foretelling, it's inherent to her thanks to her genes. Genes of elven Sages, who see past, present & future - total time.

Considering the aim of the Golden Path then, an analogy: one hypothetical result of the mutations introduced into Elder Blood via mixing human genes with elven ones results in Laplace's demons (Sages) creating a mutation in their own genotype down the road that even the demons themselves can no longer predict.

Making Ciri a Child of Hope in the sense of a truly free, indeterminant wild card, the nature of whom enables uncertainty in the outcomes of the fates of others connected to her choices. Because she herself remains elusive to actors who've a hand in tracing the blueprint of the universe, an act which in itself creates a future that cannot be avoided. The mutant Ciri is a genuine child surprise.

"A universe of surprises is what I pray for!" - Leto II

Analogously to Dune, where the end goal of the Golden Path is for humanity to be rendered undetectable by prescient beings and given a chance to survive by remaining outside of the constraints of a deterministic universe. By, what looks like, evolving a free will.

[bleachbleachbleach]

I don't know if you'll see this, but I've been having this thought for a while and needed to share

You have already shared your view about that whole "souls can't remember their lives before Soul Society" and such, but I've been thinking...

It's ever said that the souls in Rokungai know that they're dead? Well, the Shinigami makes sense to know and the other souls knows about the Shinigami, obviously, but I don't remember if it was ever commented about them knowing they're dead when they wake up in Soul Society

Maybe someone else needs to explain them the situation when a new soul appears? Idk

What do you think?

And excuse me if I'm being dumb about this topic, I'm just not good at remembering stuff

This blog receives 1 ask every few months and averages about 9 notes per post. XD Of course we saw this! Thank you for stopping by! <3

I think this might be in reference to tags we left on this post? At least, that's the most recent discussion I can recall.

Canonically speaking, this guy comes to mind, who knows the year and location of his death:

[Bleach 076 -- (Sorry, no original text--I'm not on the right laptop right now!]

Granted, that doesn't mean he knew this immediately on entry into Soul Society, or knew that he was in this place because he'd died!

But then, of course, there's also this whole ticket system, so I suppose even if you didn't know intrinsically that you had died, some terrible dude dressed in black and shouting about your having died might be something you take at face value (or not!). Or maybe people in Rukongai find you first, and you get the folktale of your own death from souls like you before they send you off to the proper authorities for your ticket.

I've also written fanfic where Hinamori does a more intensive intake of a soul, sort of like what you're describing (though in his case, he knows he's dead, because he died on purpose).

My preference is pretty much always going to be for things to be as paradoxical, contradictory, elusive, and mutable as possible, so if I were going to incorporate Mr. "1947 in Yamanashi" into something, there's a 99% certainty he'd be the odd duck out in terms of having retained that information, and it would be info that existed in fragments and broken conjurations. I'd probably write that there were entire divination practices within different Rukongai subcultures that strove to either remember/cogently arrange the past, or predict the future (in reincarnation), and it's this whole elaborate thing. Some of the divinators are probably legit--but many are probably charlatans who implant all manner of weird, potentially harmful false memories in people--or benign but ultimately untrue--things in people's heads. But then, maybe that's all they need to be. When you're constantly told that the ghost-life you are currently living exists only as a waypoint or halfway between one reality and the next, I imagine it's hard to hold onto desire. Whether the spark is real or not, maybe the fact of the spark is all that comes to matter.

Personally, I also like the idea that although shinigami have this whole ticket system and they'd love for souls to enter into Soul Society all in the same place, in an orderly fashion, that's not necessarily how it works, and the number crunching the 12th does about how many souls are in which district (and which plane of existence) is based on statistical models and cannot actually account individually for each soul. Maybe some come into Soul Society in human form. Maybe some were STILL A BIRD when they arrived, but ultimately became a boy. Maybe some souls spring out fully formed and humanoid and others are elemental first, before solidifying into something else. Maybe some are cut out of peaches or bamboo, or appear as monsters, almost as Hollows--until it turns out they were a human soul all along (or were they...)

Anyway, that's where I'd take that! I'd love to hear more about your thoughts re: who explains the situation. It's a really fun question!

[filmofhybe]

Sold Out Christmas Gift

🗯️ pairing : Sim Jake x oc 💌 Genre : fluff 630 wc

; AUTHORS NOTE : Is hoon’s birthday and soon will be Niki’s!! Brought a cake to celebrate on Saturday, look forward to the pictures :)

Masterlist to my other works

I wandered through the bustling toy store aisles, determined to find the perfect car toy set for my nephews. Christmas were just around the corner, and I wanted to surprise them with something they'd cherish and been begging me to get them. I scanned the shelves, hoping to spot the specific set they had been raving about.

As I navigated the store, frustration started to set in. It seemed like the coveted toy was sold out everywhere. I checked every section, asked the staff, but to no avail. Feeling defeated, I sighed and decided to make one last attempt at the checkout area.

That's when I noticed a guy holding onto the set ive been dying to get my hands on for my nephew. He was tall and with an easygoing smile, he seemed oddly fixated on the same car toy set I was desperately seeking. I couldn't help but approach him.

"Excuse me, do you happen to see any of these around?" I asked, holding up a picture of the elusive car set.

Jake's eyes widened in recognition, and he chuckled, "You're looking for that too? I've been searching all over, but it's sold out everywhere."

A sense of camaraderie blossomed between us. We shared a laugh over the absurdity of the situation, both on a quest for the same elusive toy. “Yeah im looking for it, it’s for my nephew. He’s been dying for it.” As we chatted, I couldn't help but appreciate his genuine enthusiasm and friendly demeanor.

Just as the conversation deepened, Jake paused and glanced at the last remaining car toy set in his hands. It was the one I had been desperately seeking for my nephew.

"Well, look at that," he said with a mischievous grin. "Looks like we've got a bit of a predicament here."

My eyes widened in surprise, realizing that he had it in his arms the whole time, meaning there was only one set left. Jake, sensing my dilemma, extended the box toward me.

"I'll tell you what," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll give you this one, but on one condition." Curiosity and confusion lingered in the air as I awaited his condition. “Alright than,”

"You've got to give me your number," he declared with a teasing smile. I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Jake, however, seemed genuinely amused by the whole situation. "You see," he continued, "I've been eyeing this toy for a while, and I'd be happy to let you have it for your nephew this Christmas. But in return, I'd love the chance to take you out sometime. What do you say?"

A mixture of surprise and amusement crossed my face. It was undoubtedly an unconventional way to exchange numbers, but there was something refreshing about Jake's boldness and spontaneity. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

"Deal," I replied, a grin spreading across my face. I handed him my phone, and as he entered his number, we shared a lighthearted moment, brought together by the quest for a simple toy. As he handed the coveted car set to me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected encounter. I typed my contact in his phone as well as leaving the contact name as “y/n🩷”, giving him back his phone as we walked towards the check out.

“So y/n huh? This maybe better than that Christmas gift.”

“oh be quiet. I’m just grateful you let me have this set of toy for my nephew.”

“Tell him you got the last set from his future uncle.”

“Moving quick now. I like it..”

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

labels : @kflixnet @/k-labels @k-films @k-neighborhood

[tsukkismoonlight]

For You, Anything || NakedToaster x Reader

Authors note: I meant to put this in when i posted it hut work got in the way smh but !! This was my piece for the Teahouse collab, which you can find the other entries here !

Warnings: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

Summary: You've sworn off love. After the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. Or, that's what the plan had been. You wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. And you, they'd do just about anything.

WC: 1.5k

You can tell that the little server is starting to wake for the night, by the sound of your notifications going off at a rapid pace. A smile crosses your face as you head over to your computer, double clicking on its icon that you had previously pinned to the taskbar.

One by one the messages loaded before your eyes, not that you had much time to read them before everyone was welcoming you back.

Nightowl was the first, as he quickly sent 'Hey hey hey! My fellow insomniac is here!'

'You two seriously need to fix your sleep schedules.' Was Onion's way of saying hi to you today.

'Hello to you too, Onion. I swear i'm trying my hardest' you type in response, before pausing and sending another message, 'Nightowl on the other hand…he's beyond saving.'

This earned an appearance from Quest, who came in to defend Nightowl on the low, 'Lets not gang up on the kid,'

'Thanks Quest, at least someone believes in me T-T'

You hummed to yourself, as another message made its way into the server. Though, this time it wasn't directed at you.

'Well if it isn't the ever so elusive Toaster.' Xyx's odd profile picture graced the chat room as he noted that Nakedtoaster was now active in the server.

'Wakey wakey Toast and shakey~' came Nightowl, quick to reference a story that Salo had told the group some few days ago.

'That again? How many times are you going to greet me with that, Owl?' You could practically hear the half-hearted exasperation through Toaster's message as if he was sitting right next to you.

'Is it better than Xyx always following up with "what's shakin bacon?" ' owl asked next, knowing full and well that Toaster really didn't mind either of the terms.

You took the slight lapse in the conversation to greet him yourself, 'good evening Toasty,'

'yeah yeah evening' he sends, then a short pause before another message from him loads, 'specifically good evening to you though.'

Another smile settles onto your features, as you reread his message.

From there the server seemed to find a good tempo in a happy conversation, talking about some bloomic fan-theory that June happened to come across just a few days prior.

You pull your attention away from the monitor for a moment to check your phone, swiping away the notifications displayed at the top of its screen. Outside of the server, you didn't have very many people to talk to. Sure, you had a few friends from work, and maybe one or two acquaintances that you made when you were still in school, but as life seemed to drag on, the less you heard from them. There was a point in time where you had a previous partner, and you had spent most of your free time with him.

And while things had started off nicely, they didn't end that way. He was controlling, you had to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, you had to take interest in the things he liked. The conversations were never about you. He would constantly criticize you, from the way you looked, to the way you'd write your As. By the time you finally managed to escape the guy, he had stripped you of who you were, or who you had been.

Your eyes glance to the date in the corner of your monitor. It had been nearly a year and a half since then. A year and a half of trying to fit cut up puzzle pieces together, in hopes that you'd get to see yourself again. Eighteen months of pushing yourself past your limits just to pick your hobbies and interests back up. Eighteen months of wondering if you could even go back to who you were before the guy.

A quiet ping from your computer broke you from your thoughts, and you looked to see a message from Toasty in the juicy gamers channel, one that only held Xyx, Toaster and yourself. Its purpose was supposed to be for Toaster and Xyx to talk about ffxiv, but by now it was just another chat room within the bloomic server.

As you clicked on the channel, you saw that it had been Nakedtoaster who pinged you, asking if you were alright, since you had gone quiet in the general chat.

'I'm alright! I was just thinking about something a little serious, I guess I got lost in my train of thought for a bit.'

You watched as it showed him typing, then a pause, then that he was typing again. Finally, he sent his message, 'wanna talk in the voice channel? You can share your thoughts with me if you'd like'

You pause for a moment. That would mean telling them about your ex. Not that you weren't ever open about your past with the server before. But, this was different. After breaking things off with your ex, you had promised yourself to do one thing; to swear off love, at least until you were ready to try again. You didn't want to rush into another relationship, only to doubt yourself again. You couldn't get stuck in another situation like that, especially if you weren't ready to put yourself first. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hardly had the words to explain that to someone else.

Yet, you found yourself joining Toaster's call, easily falling into the pattern that the two of you had made in your time in the server.

"You /still/ take forever to join calls," he smiles into his camera, slightly leaned forwards as they spoke into their mic.

You playfully roll your eyes at the comment, sighing as you did, "Not my fault /someone/ is so impatient,"

"Only because it's you,"

Your breath seems to hitch in your throat. Toaster said it so casually, that you almost missed how they actually meant it. You always seemed to misinterpret their words, everything he said always felt like it held more weight. And despite your vow to stay far away from relationships, you could never shake off the ever growing mix of anxiety and something that you didn't want to name that resided within your mind.

"Hey, you alright? I've called your name a few times now," Toasty is leaned back in his chair again, a worried look clear as day on his face.

You blink a few times, fighting off an awkward smile, mind racing to think of any excuse. When you couldn't form the words, Toaster let out a slow chuckle, as if he had understood your train of thought.

"I meant that as in…well." He paused, a heavy blush spreading across his face, "As in, I really enjoy talking with you and I'm impatient."

"But, only me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to say something earlier, but, I think I might have developed..uh..feelings for you."

The feeling was back. A confusing amount of dread, and content, like oil and water, refusing to mix but making themselves known aggressively.

"Toaster I-" you start, feeling your hands begin to shake, "I'm not…well…I don't want to outright say no or anything but..I'm not sure I'm ready for..well for that."

To your surprise, they let out another gentle laugh, nodding their head as they leaned back towards their mic, "I know,"

"Huh?"

"Well, I remembered awhile back that you mentioned a shitty ex, so I figured that this might be the case if I did confess…which is why I prepared myself." You watch as he fidgets with the short microphone stand, his eyes straying to something on his desk as he continued, "I'm not going to rush you. And I'm not going to make you tell me anything about your past relationship. I wanted to tell you that I like you, so that you know that I'm here, if you'll have me, whenever that may be."

You were stunned. Despite spending so much time with the Blooming Panic server, getting to know everyone, and letting them get to know this new, healing version of yourself, you had never stopped to think that any of them would actually take a deeper interest in you. Especially when you seemed to feel so lost in your own self worth and image, like looking into a mirror that was hastily glued back together. And yet they had. Nakedtoaster had looked at the same mirror, and decided that he wanted you.

You hardly notice a small stream of tears that fall from your face, as you speak, "You'd do that for me? You'd really wait?"

They lean back in their chair again, looking towards their camera with half lidded eyes, "I like you for who you are, and I know that. So, as long as I know that I want you, I'm okay with waiting."

He lets you sit for a moment, not commenting on your tears, or on the way you couldn't believe his words. Toasty was true to their words, they'd be okay with you taking your time, in this moment, and in the next. Something told you that you could trust him with that. Slowly, you let a smile make its way onto your face as you wipe away the uncertainty that had come from your eyes. Then, when you bring your attention back to them, they say one more thing.

"So, of course. For you, I'd do anything."

[regulus-cannot-swim]

Echoes of Pain

Author's Note: I might not be writing as much because I am starting to write a book. If you like my works, please follow me! Also, if you like this specific one shot, please reblog or comment! Thanks!

Once upon a time in the mystical realm of Middle-earth, a young elf named Legolas Greenleaf roamed the ancient forests of Mirkwood. Legolas possessed a unique gift, one that connected his soul to another, a soulmate whose identity remained unknown. Though their paths had yet to cross, a bond had formed between them, allowing them to share the echoes of each other's pain.

Legolas, burdened with the weight of a thousand sorrows, yearned to find his soulmate and ease the pain that plagued them both. But destiny did not unveil its secrets so easily. Meanwhile, a young woman named Y/n, separated by lands and unaware of her soulmate's existence, experienced unexplainable bouts of anguish and sorrow that gripped her heart.

As years passed, Legolas grew increasingly desperate to find Y/n, to protect her and offer the comfort that their bond promised. Guided by his intuition, he embarked on a journey beyond his homeland and, with every step, the echoes of Y/n's pain resonated within his being.

Across vast landscapes and perilous terrains, Legolas sought the one who shared his pain. His determination would not waver, even in the face of darkness and uncertainty. Each scar and every throb of agony he experienced intensified his yearning to find his elusive soulmate.

Meanwhile, Y/n, unaware of the ethereal connection binding her to Legolas, had dedicated herself to helping those in need. Her compassion and healing touch brought solace to many troubled souls. Little did she know that with each sorrow she healed, she unknowingly soothed the aching heart of her distant soulmate.

One fateful day, their paths converged within a hidden glade nestled deep in the heart of Mirkwood. The forest whispered the songs of their intertwined destinies, as Legolas and Y/n stood face to face, an instant recognition shimmering in their eyes.

In that timeless moment, the echoes of pain between them transformed into a symphony of understanding and love. Their shared bond, once a source of agony, now became a source of strength and solace. Comprehending the depth of their connection, Legolas and Y/n forged an unbreakable bond, vowing to protect and nurture their shared gift.

Together, they journeyed through the enchanting realms of Middle-earth, united not only by their love for each other but by the shared empathy they held for all living beings. Legolas' archery skills and Y/n's healing touch proved to be a formidable force against the evils that threatened their world.

In their united quest, they encountered many challenges, but their bond only grew stronger with each trial they overcame together. Wherever they walked side by side, the echoes of their pain transformed into whispers of hope, leaving a trail of healing and goodwill.

Legolas and Y/n's love blossomed, embracing a truth that surpassed the boundaries of their own existence. Their souls entwined, they became beacons of empathy and compassion in a world often plagued by darkness.

And so, their story became a legend, celebrated throughout Middle-earth. Known as the soulmates who could feel each other's pain, Legolas and Y/n created a legacy of love and healing, reminding all who heard their tale that even in the most desperate of times, there is always solace to be found in the arms of a true soulmate.

[velnica]

Lv. 58 — A Saint of Song (part 1)

Here we go again! Timeline wise, Ysayle has quelled the brief unrest, but here is a time stretch between apprising Edmont and Aymeric and the latter running off to confront Thordan. This one happens in that stretch.

Oh Sanson if only you knew that Guydelot has been keeping an eye on you this entire time...

I can't believe he's agreeing with Guydelot. The Sanson from two quests ago would have baulked at the possibility lol.

He looks so excited uttering this line but I didn't catch his animation in time RIP.

It's still 50/50 to me whether the Twelveswood Moogles reveal themselves to Sanson because they could sense that he believes in song, or whether he pestered them enough because he believed in song and they gave up hiding. I think the latter is funnier, and that the Moogles were pleasantly surprised that Sanson chased them down because he fervently believes in the power of song that they resolved to help him from that point on.

These elusive denizens of the Black Shroud are skilled in the manipulation of aether, their arcane arts allowing them to remain undetected by all but the most determined or gifted of seekers. In the course of recent events, Eorzeans have also become aware of a second moogle clan dwelling in the Churning Mists of Dravania. — Encyclopædia Eorzea vol 1, page 256

The way he looks so dejected here yet still holding out hope for Guydelot to return... And he knows that Guydelot now also believes in the Ballad so he's keeping that little fact close to him as comfort.

If Guydelot runs away to conceal his feelings, Sanson just keeps advancing, because stopping might mean having to confront the fact that Guydelot isn't there.

In my headcanon I think he does at least say his goodbye to Sylviel at this point, but of course he doesn't linger long. The only way to go from here is onward, else he would be failing the Adders, failing Guydelot and also failing himself.

SURPRISE!!! (not really, this man is kinda Tsundere at this point that he HAS to stay around lol)

Oh babyboy don't worry, big sis is here to knock some sense into your head.

Sylviel absolutely and totally knows what's happening here.

LMAO the way Guydelot petulantly turns around; cheeks aflame, no doubt.

Love it when WoL has been through some fantastical journeys that not even contemporary scholar actually knows what's happening lol. We making history!

I am curious how many times has Guydelot needled Sylviel about his meetings with Sanson by this point, because Sylviel's chastise has this fond exasperation laced through it. He's probably shaking his head at these two youngins who just refuse to confront their feelings head on.

Reminder that Guydelot is canonically a 22 year old country boy; he may have a swagger about him, but he's inexperienced though he might not want to admit it some days. Guydelot eschews formal authority, but he is not above asking for a trusted friend's counsel. I'm sure he's asked Jehantel for many pointers too!

Fjora doesn't like mincing her words, it's what's worked for her and by the Woods she will make it work for this boy.

Stubborn, stubborn little brother...

OC note: Fjora really does latch onto Guydelot because she can see in him something of Cora. Except for the fact that Guydelot is endlessly stubborn while Cora is more go with the flow kind of person.

A towering edifice, creatures beyond the dream of a Gridanian country boy and still Sanson is stuck in his books... But for a different reason this time 🥺

The complete change of reason here to record what he sees is so... IS SO...

THEY BELONG TOGETHER YOUR HONOUR!

It's not enough that Sanson trusts Guydelot's skill, here he practically admits that he wants to hear Guydelot write a song about Anyx Trine is just... my heart...

And now he lets you lead! He's realised that he needs to take a step back, to listen to those who have better ideas about what to do next instead of strong-arming his way into getting information. And guess what, it's working wonders.

Speaking of going up to Sohm Al, it is a goddamn dangerous climb, despite Tioman being gone. I can just imagine Guydelot sticking real close by—to Fjora's exasperation—so that he can safely follow them. And I think I've written this in Breathe In, but I can also see him pause at moments to play his harp, out of earshot, to soothe the dying dragons in Mourn.

Also Fjora would have to have introduced Sanson to Vidofnir in Anyx Trine too. Imagine, meeting dragons! But Guydelot isn't there to share his awe. Oh well, Sanson will just have to record everything in great details so that Guydelot feels like he was there too.

Reminder that the Churning Mists is way up there around that giant floating rock. Moghome is attached to it but the rest of the area (Zenith, etc) are floating islands.

Ugh, the pining...

It's not IF, but WHEN. He is sad that the bard doesn't get to see this view first hand but by the Matron he will try his best to let Guydelot experience it in however small way he could. He's recording this all down specifically for that reason and that reason only; Sanson wants desperately for Guydelot to be here.

For the love of the Matron, Guydelot, JUST TALK TO HIM

You stubborn, pining fools... the both of you...

You're absolutely right, Sanson.

[Continued in Part 2]

[mybookplacenet]

Featured Author Interview: Rick Dewhurst

Tell us about yourself.: Inside the Author’s Head A feature of My Book Place Our mission: to promote the notion that anyone can succeed, thanks to social media. We are excited to present an exclusive interview with Rick Dewhurst, a noted author of mystery and crime. He also has a penchant for literary prose, and it has been said by more than a few literary critics that just one of his sentences compels one to linger, often for hours, lost in the wonderment of discovering meaning. Also, it must be said at the outset that his professed Christian bent has prevented his acceptance by a larger, secular audience, but this hasn’t prevented him from pursuing his ambiguous quest for the middle ground. Our interviewer for this feature is the up-and-coming literary personage of criticism, DB. So let us follow DB on her journey of discovery, as she gets Inside the Author’s Head: I was perspiring bullets when I climbed the stairs to the author’s walk-up apartment on the third floor, and not just because of the exercise. I’d been warned by my editor that Dewhurst was eccentric and had only agreed to the interview because he liked to talk to people once in a while. He’d already blasted me on the intercom, and when I got upstairs I found he’d left the door open. Then he must have heard my approaching stiletto heels because he yelled at me to close it on the way in. The smell of yeast hung in the air. I walked into an area of sparseness that passed for a living room. And there he was, about 5’10” I’d say, though it was hard to tell since he was sitting down. But I wasn’t insulted that he hadn’t gotten up. I wasn’t that kind of young woman. I nodded at him, in a deferential sort of way, but he wasn’t interested. He leaned back in his chair, and a few of what looked like bread crumbs loosed themselves from the breast of his brown cardigan and tumbled into his lap. He wasn’t amused, and I broke the ice. “As you know, I’m here from Precious Insight to interview you for Inside the Author’s Head.” “As you wish,” he said. “And sit down.” I was encouraged by his invitation to join him and decided to ignore his dismissive tone. I said, “I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll get right to the questions.” “Suit yourself,” he said. I was unable to discern if his gruffness was an expression of nervousness or aggravation, or perhaps a combination of both. “Have you read the preliminary questions we sent you?” I said. “No.” “Fine then, it’s not necessary, let’s begin. Do you mind if I record?” He waved his hand. DB: I notice there’s a strong smell of yeast in the room, which begs the question – particularly regarding your mystery and crime novels – do you in fact use cheese? Dewhurst: I see that you don’t mind getting right to the point. Well, since I do appreciate a direct approach, I will answer your question in the same way. Yes, in fact, I do favor cheese over the various other methods of bringing my stories to life. DB: I see. By “bringing to life,” do you mean how you arrive at the basic essences of the characters you create? Dewhurst: It’s best not to jump to such a conclusion so matter-of-factly. Cheese can be an elusive tool, and given the humdrum of the creative process it might, and often does, wedge its way into places that lead further away from the light of life, if you catch my drift. And in so doing the exercise becomes pointless and if one is not careful, can lead to serious depression, or conversely can lead to hysteria. But in either case, depression or hysteria, one can, in the worst case scenario, begin to wonder if one ever had the right cheese at all. DB: I know what you mean. I used Limburger for a piece I wrote on the exquisite mirroring effect produced by the Glass Ceiling, but my editor insisted it lacked purpose. Needless to say, it was never published. Dewhurst: Since it appears your literary success has been limited by your intellect, had you thought of going home and interviewing yourself? DB: I’m sorry. It’s a fault of mine…but I only want to be noticed…and have someone, somewhere say something nice about my writing. That’s why I do these interviews. And to make things worse the editor never uses my real name, only my initials, I’m hoping one day…. Dewhurst: Are we done? DB: No, no, I’m sorry. Let’s get back to the point of cheese. For instance, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that your residence smells of yeast. Dewhurst: I don’t think the two are related, cheese and yeast, but since you are making the connection I will make up something for your readers to chew on. DB: Please do, and I really must say at this time that I’ve always admired your creativity, and I have found from reading other criticism in preparation for this interview that the skill with which you assemble sentences is beyond comprehension. Dewhurst: Quite so. And while we’re passing out kudos, let’s get to the matter at hand. Although I am reluctant to go on record as saying this, I’m compelled to agree with Stephen King’s theory when it comes to writing fiction. As you yourself know, and what aspiring writer doesn’t, the Kingsian method proposes that everything already exists. No small insight in itself, but he goes further when he asserts that you can discover what already exists by digging for it using the tools at hand. And, he says, there are different kinds of tools for different tasks. In the event your readers haven’t yet been exposed to King’s way, let me explain further. Say, for instance, you need to discover how a character might behave or react when confronted with conflict. In this case, you might find Feta essential in uncovering what already exists, thereby achieving your creative goal in a more expeditious way. DB: I see. But for the benefit of our readers, and, of course, for the budding writers out there, please expand on your own use of the various cheeses, the ones you think are the best in uncovering your characters and plot. Dewhurst: I see no harm in that. I now prefer mostly Mozzarella. It’s subtle and supple and brings out the essences of that which I am uncovering. But of course Mozzarella can’t be used carte blanche. I find cheddar helpful, too. And if I had to make a choice among chedders, I would say Wisconsin Mild results in a more nuanced digging up of what already exists. DB: A talented man you are, as is King. Dewhurst: Yes, I suppose, but we needn’t do everything à la King. I have some mistrust of his exploitation of Edam to eliminate adverbs from his reality. It’s not so much his technique as his insistence that adverbs have no reality in themselves, and thus for all intents and purposes they don’t exist for anybody else, either. As for me, I have known some adverbs to exist when properly uncovered, and in my defiance of King, I extol the use of Castelo Branco, a goat cheese that gets the job done in depth, and far from eliminating adverbs it discovers them intact down there and, indeed, from time to time brings them up and puts them to good use. DB: So what about pickled eggs? Dewhurst: I wondered when you might get snotty. I’m sure you’re referring to that fateful chapter in my first novel, Be Like the World, Not of It, where I omitted punctuation. That was an early period, of course, and my use of pickled eggs was the same pickled-eggs method James Joyce used to uncover Leopold Bloom in Ulysses and whose overuse was the precursor to the unearthing of the regrettable Finnegan’s Wake and, in my case, garnered hurtful criticism of my ill-advised youthful exuberance. Let it be said that I have never sunk to the pickled eggs method again. DB: Since you have now brought up Be Like the World, wasn’t it during that same period of time that you discovered there was a Christian God? And if so, how did your new found Christian beliefs square with your earthy theme? Dewhurst: You’ve caught me there. At that time I was just coming out of the world’s way of doing things, and I hadn’t yet found a church to belong to. You see, I didn’t want to associate with religious people. The subsequent lack of fellowship discouraged me, and again I’m embarrassed to admit--in fact I haven’t revealed this to the media before, Christian or secular, that I not only used pickled eggs but also Gin, hence the fizzy tone of the piece and the stream of consciousness conceit. However, I did snap out of it, and haven’t used the Gin method since, and I can almost guarantee I will never abuse my prose with inferior and destructive tools again. I’m committed to cheese. DB: Then what about ketchup & Coke in Guts and All? Dewhurst: I have to congratulate you on your diligent research. I succumbed only once to the lure of letting such inferior creative substances dissolve the external to expose the underbelly and then regrettably allow them to mix with the resulting uncovered characters in an unseemly way. I admit to this artless method, but again, I must remind you and your readers, this type of creative process, or might I say de-creative process, underpinned only one of my novels, or again might I say, undermined it, if you see what I mean. However, in my defense, some elements in Guts and All were precursors of postmodernism, and, I might add, deconstructionism, which, as you know, thrives on ketchup and Coke and pickled eggs, though I don’t mean that as criticism, only as a comment on the inevitable direction of the creative thrust. DB: Forgive me for appearing to ask the same question again, but did the writing of Guts and All not conflict with your professed belief in Christianity? Dewhurst: Okay, I’ll admit it. I have experienced some backsliding in my Christian walk. Guts and All was written during one of those times. But then again, what Christian hasn’t done a little backsliding? Writing is a tough road, and I do recommend that Christians stay away from it altogether, but if they must take it up I advise they stick with the purity of pap, because, as we all know, cheese can be habit forming and when care is not taken can lead to pickled eggs, Coke and ketchup, and sometimes Gin. As for me, I’m an artist, a writer, a creative being, and zealous Christians are always saying we should be taking over the Arts. But when you step out and take the chance of writing a novel that doesn’t fit into the squeaky clean category, a novel that doesn’t square with the illusion that all is well in Christendom, you’re condemned for it…as I have been…so many, many times…and it hurts. I’m sorry…don’t mind me. Like everyone else, I do want to be accepted. And as I’m sure you must know, I am repentant, and I’ve been accountable and sticking to cheese in my writing for at least ten years now…. DB: Thank you for being so forthright in your responses. I’m sure our readers will be encouraged by the struggle you have had to face in being you, especially the Christian you, although I’m not as confident that our secular readers will be able to comprehend the depth of your intermittent spiritual torment. Dewhurst: Is that it then? DB: Yes, we have a 2,000-word limit, and once I write the last paragraph we might be slightly over. I left him there, a talented man for all seasons. And as I descended the stairs I couldn’t help but wonder if the gifted among us were doomed to remain themselves. And what about me, was I to share the same fate, though it was plain that the depth of my gift was yet to be plumbed? And would I plumb it, the prospects being potentially so dismal? And would others allow me to plumb it anyway? No matter. When all was said and done I knew the writing life was worth it all. I climbed into a cab, now a little wiser, having gathered precious insights into the creative cheeses, and I resolved to remember in future when on third-story assignments never to wear stilettos again. DB for Precious Insight Ezine’s Inside the Author’s Head. Editor’s note: DB is an undergraduate creative writing student at NYU and plans one day to write a book, possibly of short stories. Rick Dewhurst's Author Websites and Profiles Website Amazon Profile Read the full article

[ebookpost]

Get (Now) Mystery In Rocky Mountain National Park (National Park Mystery #1) BY : Aaron Johnson

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Ebook PDF Mystery In Rocky Mountain National Park (National Park Mystery #1) | EBOOK ONLINE DOWNLOAD If you want to download free Ebook, you are in the right place to download Ebook. Ebook/PDF Mystery In Rocky Mountain National Park (National Park Mystery #1) DOWNLOAD in English is available for free here, Click on the download LINK below to download Ebook After You 2020 PDF Download in English by Jojo Moyes (Author).

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Description

Secret Codes - Lost Landmarks - Hidden Clues - Real LocationsBefore Jake?s grandfather died, he was on the trail of a centuries-old mystery. And he has entrusted that mystery to Jake, leaving behind a set of hidden codes, riddles, maps, and other clues that lead Jake and his friends on a scavenger hunt into the heart of Colorado?s wild and rugged Rocky Mountain National Park.Through twists and turns, the mystery unfolds while Jake, Amber, and Wes learn about survival skills, natural history, integrity, character, and friendship.Along the way, they discover they are not the only ones on this quest. An elusive shadow group is close on their heels.Illustrated by the author, this page-turning adventure is designed to capture the imagination of even the most reluctant of young readers. Parents looking for a delightful read-aloud adventure will find it hard to put down. (Word of Caution: readers frequently note that this is a ?Please read just one more chapter? book).If your family loves

[iamvoid0]

Brazil Approves Microsoft Acquisition, the UK denies Microsoft, Xbox heads into the Metaverse, Call of Duty asks for Cell Numbers, and Spider-Man Gets Release Date!

An exciting week as Brazil approved Microsoft's Activision-Blizzard acquisition. In contrast, the UK's CMA has not, Microsoft fires back at the UK while also bringing their Xbox Game Pass into the Metaverse, Activision continues Blizzard's trend by requiring cellular access for games, and Miles Morales swings onto Steam!

🕹️ The Console War Rages On

Brazil has approved Microsoft's acquisition of Activision-Blizzard - The Competition regulator for Brazil, CADE, has approved the acquisition without restrictions. (Source)

Persona 3 Portable & Persona 4 Golden gets a 2023 release date. In a tweet, the Official Atlas West Twitter account announced that Persona 3 Portable & Person 4 Golden will be released on the 19th of January 2023. (Source)

Call of Duty will require phone numbers - According to a Battle.net support page, Call of Duty's new game release will require players to have a linked valid phone number in their Battle.net account before being able to play the game. The system will be the same SMS Protect that plagued Overwatch 2's launch, preventing certain prepaid phones from being used. (Source)

The Xbox Game pass is heading Meta Quest VR - Game Pass will enter the virtual world. In the Meta Connect Event, Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella appeared on stage to reveal that the Xbox Cloud Gaming and Xbox are heading into the Meta Quest Store. (Source)

UK's Competition and Markets Authority receives pushback from Microsoft. This week, the CMA has revealed their report outlining patterns of Microsoft acquiring development studios and making their upcoming games exclusive to the Xbox. The report notes ZeniMax's upcoming Starfield and The Elder Scrolls VI being console-exclusive. Other studios mentioned include Obsidian, inXile and Ninja Theory. Microsoft's lawyers have stated that the CMA's concerns are misplaced. They went over PlayStation's 20-year-long history with an install size of over 150 million and Playstation's investments, including minority stakes in FromSoftware and Epic Games.   (Source 1, Source 2)

Marvel's Spider-Man: Miles Morales gets a release date - The game will release on Steam on the 18th of November, 2022. (Source)

✨ Going to Events Spiritually

PlayStation Plus Game Catalog lineup for October: Grand Theft Auto: Vice City – The Definitive Edition, Dragon Quest XI S: Echoes of an Elusive Age, Assassin's Creed Odyssey

🎮 Where's My Controller?

I've still been playing Terraria.

📝I don't know what a pen looks like.

I haven't done much writing; as once again, my day job continues to be aggressively frustrating.

💖 Enjoy this newsletter?

Forward to a friend and let them know where they can subscribe (hint: it's here).

Coming Soon

More.

[the-knights-who-say-book]

@sieane Here’s the presentation! Sorry there isn’t all that much on the slides, it was only supposed to be five minutes and most of the meat of the presentation was in what I said out loud.

I gave the barebones of the book, then talked a bit about what Pierce was reacting to when writing it (this is where your help with the author’s note came in! it sparked a lot of discussion in the zoom chat while i presented, so the presentation really benefitted from it <3), including how she felt fantasy wasn’t realistic enough (she name checks Diana Wynne Jones’s Tough Guide to Fantasyland in an author’s note to explain the problems she had with fantasy at the time) and how that comes through in Song of the Lioness.

One of the requirements was to include a passage that represents the book, I chose this one because it reveals a lot about Alanna’s character and the casual prose, which I feel like really defines Song of the Lioness even though it can also dip into very tropey fantasy writing at other times. (I talked about this in terms of Ursula LeGuin’s thoughts on style in her essay From Elfland to Poughkeepsie and what it means to write with a fantasy accent, which I feel Pierce does despite the down to earth tone.)

Then I gave an overview of critical reception of the series, how it includes feminist and postcolonial lenses but usually focuses on the cross dressing. Then I briefly covered Pierce’s influence on today’s YA writers. Discussion afterwards included questions on the context of the controversial author’s note and how male love interests are treated in the book, and comparisons to the other presentation given today (LeGuin’s Tombs of Atuan).

Note the works cited — pretty sure you can find all three of the papers by googling, they’re not behind paywalls! Here are the citations again so you can copy and paste the titles for easy googling:

Saxena, Vandana. "Growing-Up Drag: Cross-Dressed Heroines in Young Adult Fiction." Feminist Studies in English Literature 20.3 (2012): 271.

Hirst, Miriam Laufey. Fantasy and Feminism: An Intersectional Approach to Modern Children’s Fantasy Fiction. 2018. University of Bolton, PhD thesis. (chapter 5)

Sahn, Sarah F. "Decolonizing Childhood: Coming of Age in Tamora Pierce's Fantastic Empire." Children's Literature, vol. 44, 2016, pp. 147-294.

Anyway. Now that’s done my blog can stop being about Tortall again, you’re welcome everyone

[musicallisto]

Ψ — 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤; (percy jackson x reader)

~ 2021 start of the year event ~

@jorjawrites​ requested: Hi! Your 2021 event seems like a really interesting idea! Can i request number 13 with Percy Jackson? Im so excited to see what it is☺️

song: lilianna wilde - grind me down (jawster remix) | 𝄞

summary: A delicious smell of lotus flowers and unbridled debauchery came to your senses each time the bass pounded from the speakers... and your friends had manifestly noticed it too. “We’re never leaving this place, right?” “Never.”

author notes: I’m sorry this is really not as good as I wanted ughhh I hope you still like this!

word count: 1.5k words

warnings: we are collectively assuming Percy & everyone else are 18+ in this, despite it making no sense in the context of Camp Half-Blood, because the song is SAUCY and drugging kids is NOT my kink. pardon my approximative recollection of TLT’s events. + this is based on the lotus casino episode so gambling, and ... magical drugs?

“𝐒𝐎... 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 we doing tonight?”

“Is sleeping not enough for you? Why do we need a purpose?”

“Shut up, Seaweed Brain.”

“I don’t know. We could ask around, look for some clues? Maybe someone knows something.”

“Oh, great. Now, if I were a lightning thief on the run hiding Zeus’ magical lightning bolt after stealing it from the literal Olympus, where would I keep it? Yeah, this random Las Vegas casino full of mortals seems like a great place.”

“You don’t sound like someone who’ll get blasted by Zeus in a week if they don’t retrieve this ancient and untraceable artifact, Percy.”

“Thank you, it’s all in the confidence.”

“Stop bickering, you two,” you interrupted, standing between your two friends as you followed the bellboy deeper into the hotel lobby. “We’ll get a good night’s sleep, and...”

Your words halted, just like your steps on the rich, burgundy velvet floor, just as the young hotel employee pushed open the large, white mahogany doors before the four of you. Your eyes widened of their own accord. You were certain that you heard Grover gasp on your right. Even Percy and Annabeth’s heads snapped toward the immense, domed room in front of you. Game machines and roulette and poker tables stretched as far as you could see underneath purple-colored neons. On each side of the hall, dozens of guests gathered at the tables, abandoning years’ worth of savings to the hands of a blackjack game, gritting their teeth in unparalleled concentration at the arcades, all while sipping colorful cocktails given out by smiling waiters scattered among the crowd.

“I hope you find the diversions to your liking,” the bellboy simpered with a smile.

The grin that crept on your lips was unbeatable. A delicious smell of lotus flowers and unbridled debauchery came to your senses each time the bass pounded from the speakers... and your friends had manifestly noticed it too.

“We’re never leaving this place, right?”

“Never.”

And so you never left.

It was never about never to you, at least. Time simply ceased to matter, as though the vibrant colors and dulcet smells had annihilated all concept of hurry and dread. All that mattered then to you was to see if Grover could hit the jackpot.

“Come on, you stupid thing,” he hissed through gritted teeth, giving the slot machine a few irritated taps. “I just want three cherries. How hard can it be?”

Surely enough, the colored symbols turned and turned and turned... until they settled on two cherries and a palm tree.

“Of course.”

You had kept track of his number of attempts, initially... but couldn't remember when you had lost count. Nor how many lotus-shaped petit fours you'd eaten by that time, for that matter.

“It’s alright,” you reassured him with a pat on the shoulder. “It’s not like you’ll run out of money anytime soon.”

How nice of the Lotus Hotel and Casino to give you unlimited access to the vastest sums of money you’d ever seen to spend on their games... and what a revolutionary business tactic, you might have added had you been a little more alert.

But you weren’t, and merely walked away from Grover with a soft and somewhat shaky smile.

“Can I treat you to another flower?”

She had emerged from nowhere in an instant, carrying a tray of pink and white delicacies and a few of those bubbling cocktails you had been eyeing all night. What an exuberantly fast service, and how keen were they on making sure every guest was content and fed at all times, you would have thought had you been more attentive.

But you weren’t, so with a radiant grin, you grabbed one more flower and savored the sugar and its liquid aftertaste on your tongue. The corners of your vision blurred ever so slightly with each step you took, somehow getting more purple... but you paid them no mind when you saw Percy at a roulette table off to the side of the main hall.

“Any luck so far?” you asked as you walked up to him, steadying yourself on his chair, your hand a little too close to his shoulder. Clearly, the heat and moistness of the packed room were getting to your head...

“Luck? Y/N, this is sheer skill.”

“It’s roulette, Percy.”

He clicked his tongue, and a smile made its way onto your face as your heartbeat sped up. Of course, Percy and his infamous detachedness and snark, exactly the ones that attracted you so much despite your better judgment...

“Details, Y/N, details. What do you think? Red or black?”

He lifted expectant eyes at you. Inexorably, you leaned forward.

“All on fourteen.”

Percy raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“Trust me.”

He did, without question. Appraising you lengthily for one more instant, he slid all his chips to the croupier, before resting his hand right next to yours on the table, almost to appease himself. Your breath hitched in your throat, head pounding from the music and the swirling spirals in the corners of your vision, as you eyed the wheel spin and spin and spin... until the ball landed on a red square. 14.

“There you go! That’s what I’m talking about!”

In a deafeningly triumphant motion, Percy grabbed his winnings from the table and leaped to his feet, right by your side. You could hardly contain your laughter then; but you fully burst when he shot you the most radiant smile you’d ever seen on his face, arms full of lotus-stamped chips and pure, unbridled adoration in his eyes. There was the childish enthusiasm you loved so much about him, and it was entirely thanks to you; your heart soared at the thought.

“Did you get a prophecy or something?”

“Just a hunch,” you mischievously retorted, your grin mirroring his.

You both had mindlessly stepped away from the rest of the hotel guests, who were all too absorbed to even notice the pair of teens and their outrageous amount of money. Beneath the secludedness of a marble arcade, cloaked in pink and purple lights, you both counted your blessings... each your own; Percy the chips between his fingers, and you the colorful hues in his sea-green eyes.

“So, what do you want?”

“What?”

“You technically won this money, so it’s technically yours. Or at least half of it. I’m not going to keep it all anyway. I want to give you a little gift.”

“It’s not a gift if it’s paid with my money.”

“Don’t start it! One Annabeth is more than enough!” he laughed, and your chest whirred to the same vibration.

“I don’t want anything, Percy. I’m happy with what I already have.”

Despite the dizziness that still shook your head, despite the bright, blazing gashes spanning your vision like pulsing veins, despite the sounds and music coming to your ears in stroboscopic and unequal waves, you felt more peaceful than you had for most of the quest. Percy’s gaze was surprisingly tender on yours, as though he discovered you for the first time right then and there, far from the hustle and bustle of monsters and Camp and cities... only his eyes on yours and your hands imperceptibly brushing together, closer and closer.

“It’ll be a surprise then.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to give surprises. I’m not even sure you can keep a secret.”

“Oh, excuse you, I’m an excellent secret-keeper.”

Closer and closer...

“I bet that I can make you spill all your secrets.”

“Bet all you want, I’ll be tight as a clam.”

“Really? Because I think I can guess one already.”

Closer and closer... his breath fanning over your mouth, your hand scraping the collar of his shirt...

“Percy! Y/N!”

A thundercloud passed between you two, killing the lights in a second. You jumped back as though struck by lightning, cheeks flaming hot and eyes elusive. Annabeth, striding towards you with purpose, alarm, and just as little disequilibrium as you would have expected from her, was enough distraction to ignore Percy’s erratic breathing by your ear.

“Percy, Y/N, gods above, why’d you run off like that? We need to leave. This is bad.”

The blond girl grabbed you both by the sleeves and dragged you into the light and agitation; and despite the newly growing nausea that rumbled in the pit of your stomach, some part of you was grateful for her decidedness, enough to hide your fuming cheeks.

Of course, you should have known better than to push your luck too far with the gods watching - and most probably laughing at your heartened hopes.

[mightydragoon]

Prince Luke fanfic Recs

@silvereddaye you know the drill

For all your Prince Luke Skywalker/ Amidala/Organa etc needs.  Also ft a lot of Leia Skywalker along with that. 

1. The Prince and the Bodyguard  Toomanyfandoms99

Bail is unsure why he’s being told this, but he is intrigued. “Where is the boy now?”

“Here,” Mon smiles, “on this base, being cared for by Shara Bey and Kes Dameron.”

Bail nods upon recognizing the names. Shara is their best pilot, and Kes is their best combat leader.

“However,” Mon states, “they cannot care for the boy full-time. There is something...unique about him. Something you are more equipped to handle.”

Bail narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Ezra Bridger is Force-sensitive,” Mon reveals.

Bail leans back in his chair and blinks once. “I see…”

“If your son is anything like his true parents,” Mon says, “he will soon require guidance. This boy also requires that guidance.”

“So,” Bail says, “you want me to shield them both from the Empire. Get them a...teacher.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22633573/chapters/54092221

2.First Impressions   Idhren15

Mara Jade attended the rich party on Coruscant for one purpose: to kidnap the Alderaan heir, Prince Luke Organa.

She didn't expect any of these complications.

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740592

3. Crowned Usurper  planningconquest

Princess Leia managed to capture the elusive rebel Jedi. She finds someone she never expected.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663147/chapters/41657678

4.  The kidnappings of a Sith Lord  maedre13

How a certain Sith Lord may or may not kidnap his rebel son. One-shots. Strongly inspired by sparklight´s “Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn´t Get Away”.

Current chapter: In which the prince of the Sith gets a new bodyguard (3/3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606992/chapters/23453241

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606992/chapters/52681459 (Part 1)

(Note* Fic is episodic often not connecting, sometimes is, so there is a good variety of stories, some involving Prince Luke others not) 

5. Sparks  SpellCleaver

Vader had every intention of ignoring that petty—if notorious—burglar on Coruscant, until evidence suggested that this "Angel" had Rebel ties.

Meanwhile, Luke never expected his father to actively hunt him down, and he doesn't like it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031373/chapters/47433331

6. No Distance Far Enough   KaelinaLovesLomaris

Imperial Prince Luke Skywalker is kidnapped by the Rebellion. His father is not happy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549516

7. Hostage  Slx99

AU in which Luke grows up as the Prince of Alderaan and Bail and Breha Organa’s son. When Luke is sixteen Bail becomes too outspoken against the Emperor, who sends Lord Vader to take the young prince as a hostage and cow his father into submission. Held captive aboard Vader’s ship, Luke is faced with the unpleasant reality of being the pawn in this power play under his captor’s watchful eyes; until they both realize a thing or two…

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707774/chapters/21902741

8. Hostage Interludes  Slx99

Interlude pieces of the ‘Hostage’ universe from my ongoing long-fic that don't fit into the main story, but which I still wanted to share. Some will be more fun, others more serious. They have no influence on the main story.

Basic premise of the main story: Luke grew up with Bail and Breha Organa as the Prince of Alderaan. When Bail becomes too outspoken against Palpatine he orders Vader to take the young prince as a Hostage. Luke now lives aboard the Executor. He finds out rather soon that Vader is his father and the story goes from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148811/chapters/35129507

9.  Hostage

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1063433

10. Runaway   SilverDaye

Imperial Prince Luke runs away from home to escape his overprotective father Emperor Vader. Jumping from planet to planet he finds himself creditless on Tatooine. While working for more money to leave the planet, Luke meets an old man named Ben Kenobi. But Luke knows he can't stay in one place for long for surely his father is hunting him down.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630196/chapters/33813027

11.A Song of Dragon's Fire & Slaves Blood   Fan0fFIM17

A Slave is finally truly made Free.

Lost in a strange primitive Land, he takes advantage of his circumstances to rise to the position of King. A Slave, a Jedi Knight, a Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, Father, Son, all this and more. Read as he Fights for the Iron-Throne!

Winter Is Coming!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400920/chapters/35743227

12. My sister has it    jedileia (cptnwintersoldier)

"You want me to fight my dad? Kill him? How could you think I would be capable on any of that, after what I just heard? Have I been training just so I could kill my father? Is that what this Jedi training was about? If so then i deeply regret the evening I went to look for parts for my speeder and ended up at Obi-Wan's yard."

Leia, a farm girl from Tatoiine, learns that she is force sensitive and the daughter of the evil Darth Vader, once known as Anakin Skywalker. She begins her Jedi training, meets her twin brother Luke Organa and confronts his father.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537682/chapters/14957098

13. what is lost in the darkness.....hanorganaas

Starkiller is destroyed, the great Jedi Hero who saved the Galaxy Leia Skywalker Solo and her husband Han are presumed dead, and Luke mourns. But he isn't alone in his grief

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668604

14. our eyes; they were pointed at the sky (looking for answers) pieandsouffle

The last few weeks have been a nightmare: Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are dead and gone, the farm is skeletal and dead, she found out her father was a Jedi, brutally murdered by a traitorous friend, and now she's going to die because Han Solo is an incompetent nerf-herder who is apparently completely incapable of opening a krething door.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159772/chapters/24904917

15.  Possibilities of If May Be - Valerie_Vancollie

Co-authored by Selinthia Avenchesca.

What if two different Star Wars realities started to merge?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946578

16.  Skywalker Swap -  stitchy

https://archiveofourown.org/series/930435

(Note Series is a mixture of a fancomic and a fanfic and it is glorious) 

17. There Is Another  stitchy

A comicbook retelling of Episode IV in the spirit of the old Star Wars Infinities!

Luke and Leia are placed in opposite homes after the fall of the Republic. Young Leia Skywalker is called to adventure when she meets two droids that belong to the strange witch, Old Kah.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597686/chapters/23428284

(Note* Seriously this comic retelling is fantastic ) 

18 Here Among The Clouds   stitchy

In a universe where Leia Skywalker joins the Rebel Alliance of her long lost brother Prince Luke Organa, the Millenium Falcon and her crew arrive to Cloud City with a fully functioning hyperdrive. In the weeks following the Battle of Hoth, Lando Calrissian becomes entangled in their their quest to defeat the evil Empire. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507038

19. A Farm girl, a Twink, and an Uber driver-  Daniellecluck

This is literally just a collection of drabbles of a New Hope rescue scene various original trilogy scenes but gayer and Luke and Leia swapped places.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345347/chapters/30553272

20. The Adventures of Leia Skywalker, Episode One: The New Hope   MaraWinchester

Nineteen-year-old Leia Skywalker lives with her Aunt and Uncle on the remote desert planet Tatooine, where there’s something ready to kill you behind every corner. Three moons make the nights bitterly cold, and the two suns makes the days unbearably hot. When a droid bought by her uncle contains a message by a prince, asking for help from a legendary Jedi Knight, Leia senses her ticket off world. Little does she know that her journey will take her right and center to a galaxy torn apart by war, involve smugglers of ill repute, and possibly shed more information on her father that she could possibly imagine...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122483/chapters/18619693

21.  Another Kind of Hope  Skyrissian (ErinacchiLove)

In a period of a galactic civil war, the brave Rebel Alliance has won their first victory against the Galactic Empire and stolen the plans of the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Death Star.

When the starship of Prince Luke Organa, who is transporting the plans, falls under the Empire's attack, the future of the galaxy depends on two droids carrying the secret plans and their new owner, a farm girl named Leia Skywalker.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705637

22 The Princess, the Smuggler and the Sith Lord's Son  Sassaphrass

Han Solo was trying to rescue her Royal Annoyingness from the Death Star when he runs smack into Vader's kid. Naturally he does the logical thing and takes him hostage. This is where the story starts. OR

Luke just wanted to get some snacks when he ran into a Wookie, a Princess and a Space Pirate. The day's pretty much downhill from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751661/chapters/13252696

23. At Least the War is Over  Sassaphrass

The only thing Luke and Leia have in common are those nine months they spent in the womb and that time they brought down the Empire.

It's hard to build a new family when the last one got blown to smithereens with the entire planet, but Leia's never thought anything worthwhile would be easy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663834

24. His Imperial Highness Luke Amidala -  Sassaphrass 

https://archiveofourown.org/series/744999

25.  Chiaroscuro  SpellCleaver

A series of oneshots focusing on Luke and Vader's relationship, with other characters occasionally thrown into the mix. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363772/chapters/38293637

26. Prince Luke Organa: A New Hope   -lightningbisexual

An AU where Leia was sent to Tatooine with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru and Luke was sent to Alderaan as the prince. It begins from where Luke is captured by the Empire in A New Hope. I follow more his story than Leia's because we all know she's going to be a badass on her own and I really want to see Luke grow up and learn to face his fears.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024390/chapters/45181531

(Note* see sequel below Leia centric) 

27.  Leia Skywalker: The Empire Strikes Back  lightningbisexual

A continuation of my twin swap fic. Leia Skywalker is being sought by the Dark Side and the Light, who both hope to use her power for their own agendas. However, her ferocity and anger make it difficult for her to train as a Jedi. Han Solo is also developing feelings for Prince Luke Organa and has no goddamn clue how to deal with it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533487/chapters/48737117

28. Between the Light and Shadows: Luke & Vader One-Shots  SilverDaye

One-shot collection focused on Luke and Vader. All AU.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128117/chapters/48583628

29. How the Other Half Lives -aradian_nights

(Note* How can I talk about Prince Luke fics without mentioning them cause WOW. 10/10.  I  highly recommend even if you aren’t a fan of the Prince Luke trope cause wow. It is something.  Warning: Angst . )

https://archiveofourown.org/series/609151. 

Trial and Error - https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417668

Layers of Dust  -  https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900971

For Love of a Queen - https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342596/chapters/21167591

Deep Doubt-  https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361913

Vision Void-  https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628475/chapters/23511120

Fate Defied- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947714

When Destinies Split -  https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017986/chapters/24552093

Risk and Chance - https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506092/chapters/25817655

A Shout in the  Dark -  https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699232/chapters/26341971

Walking the Line Between - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172817/chapters/30129249

AO3 Tag

https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Prince%20Luke/works

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

The epic Diana Fowley saga is here! 

I’ve posted the first chapter here, but you can read the entire thing on AO3. PLEASE read my author’s notes if you’re skeptical about this story. I promise, it’s all about the MSR.

“I have lived with a fragile faith built on the ether of vague memories from an experience that I can neither prove nor explain. 

When I was twelve, my sister was taken from me, taken from our home by a force that I came to believe was extraterrestrial. This belief sustained me, fueling a quest for truths that were as elusive as the memory itself. 

To believe as passionately as I did was not without sacrifice, but I always accepted the risks… to my career, my reputation, my relationships… to life itself.”

-Fox Mulder, “The Blessing Way”

prologue

She should have known from the moment she first saw them together that she never stood a chance.

She’d suspected it for a while. Call it women’s intuition. She hadn’t let many men into her life over the years but she knew Fox Mulder well, and from the moment she met that other woman she felt a cold chill wrap around her heart; a sense of inevitability, a sense of doom.

A sense of loss.

Knowing that loss intuitively was very different than witnessing it with her own eyes. She’d once again been losing the man she already lost years ago, piece by piece, ever since he came back into her life. Seeing him with the woman she now knew he truly loved only dug the knife in deeper.

On every other occasion she’d seen them together they tried to hide it; from each other, from themselves. But here and now, alone in this corridor where they thought no one was watching, she watched. And she saw.

She saw Agent Scully’s hand on the back of his neck, her other on his stomach, and she saw Fox’s arm around her waist. She saw her struggling to support his weight; a woman so petite she had to use every ounce of her strength to keep him upright. They were grasping onto one another like actual, physical lifelines. She saw love. She saw devotion.

And she saw trust.

It might not have been simple from the inside, as these things rarely are. But from the outside looking in, she’d never in her life seen two people so wholly immersed in one another.

Her own relationship with Fox had never been clean or simple. But she now realized it had never mattered. She now knew the one thing he’d needed from her above anything else was the one thing he never had: trust. And she could never truly give him that, because no matter what either of them wanted, no matter how much she loved him, everything between them began as a lie and now he could be absolutely certain of that; he’d read her thoughts. He knew the truth. Neither of them had much choice in the matter.

The grainy surveillance photographs in her hands were visual confirmation that her chickens had indeed come home to roost, that everything she’d struggled for over the past decade had been worth nothing in the end, nothing at all. Her own moral compass had been out of whack for so long it was hard for her to know which way was up anymore, what she was doing for herself, for Fox, for the project, for the world. She’d fought for a way out of this existence, but failed. In doing so she had chosen Fox’s fate, all the while believing he’d have chosen the same.

Would Fox have chosen this? She’d hoped it was true; she’d hoped that the truth they’d both sought for so long was worth all of this, worth everything. 

But she’d been wrong. He was worth more to Agent Scully than proof, than truth, than answers... than any of it in the end, and that made all the difference. 

Diana Fowley felt the tight grip of strong fingers curl around her shoulders, forcing her to look at the photographs of Agents Mulder and Scully escaping the facility with the keycard she had provided. Forcing her to feel her heart breaking all over again. 

What she’d done in the end for Fox was right, she knew that much. But it was too late for her now. And she would pay dearly this time.

Chapter 1: The Lie

THE MAJESTIC

ALEXANDRIA, VA

DECEMBER 1987

She spied him across the bar, two, maybe three drinks deep already. Twirling a long strand of dark brown hair around her finger, she sipped her Manhattan and formulated a plan of attack.

She got up and moved until she was two seats down from him, not glancing in his direction, and asked the bartender for another drink. She didn’t budge until she was certain the young man’s eyes were on her, and that task didn’t take long.

Her head swiveled and she smiled, her eyelids at half-mast. He grinned back. Works every time. Men were so insanely easy to work, it was a fucking marvel women weren’t running the world by now. 

It was the first time she was seeing this one’s face clearly. He looked slightly drunk; his hair was mussed, and his tie was undone. His sleeves were rolled up to the crooks of his elbows and she pegged him as a lonely man who didn’t spend much quality time in the company of women, at least, not much of the kind of quality time she was seeking this evening.

It had been a few weeks since she’d gone out looking for this kind of company, but he seemed to fit the bill nicely. He was a few years younger than her, and she could tell by his eyes that he was intelligent. It was a talent of hers; looking into another person’s eyes told her pretty much everything she wanted to know. 

Most importantly for her purposes, she noticed, he was drop dead gorgeous.

“Hi,” he said. She smiled. 

It was her favorite opening line.

“Rough day?” she asked. It felt apropos. 

He turned back to his drink, which was clear, whatever it was, and picked up the glass, shaking it. The ice jangled like an alarm bell.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied. 

The bartender set a fresh drink in front of her and she lifted it to her lips. “You’re right, I wouldn’t know. I’m only here for the scenery,” she smirked.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a ‘thing’ for me, typically. I’m not much of a drinker.” He smiled warmly at her. 

She felt comfortable, she felt safe. She figured he was being honest; he didn’t seem like your typical drunk in a bar.

“Me neither, it’s just… been a day.”

“Oh yeah, you too?” he grinned. “What’s a woman like you doing in…” he trailed off, gesturing around.

“... The nicest bar in the city?” she finished, smirking again.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled, a bit abashed. It was a nice establishment, nicer than most. Alexandria wasn’t the worst place to go to a bar alone.

“Um… you know. Work… stuff.” She rarely elaborated on her work with men at bars. Quite frankly, most of them were too stupid to understand any of it. The more attractive they were, the less interested they seemed. She was here tonight for only one reason.

“What is it you do?” He looked genuinely interested and she liked him instantly.

“Mostly research,” she lied, smoothly. She wasn’t about to tell a stranger she actually worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “I study criminology, and other social sciences.”

“Criminology?” He looked surprised. “Are you a detective?”

“No,” she answered quickly. It wasn’t technically a lie, but she still felt guilty for misleading him. “Just research. Studying human behaviors and such.”

“That sounds… very interesting.” He narrowed his eyes at her. She believed he meant it.

“Can I buy you another drink?” she asked him.

“A modern woman,” he said. “I like it.”

She grinned and scooted over until she was next to him. She gestured to the bartender, who obliged, setting another glass of whatever it was he was drinking in front of him.

“How about you? What’s made your day rough?” she inquired.

“I’d actually rather not say, if it’s all the same to you,” he said, making a face and holding his glass up. She didn’t mind at all. The less personal stuff she knew about him, the better.

“Fine by me,” she replied and clinked his glass.

“Maybe we can talk some more about you,” he said with a smile that made her melt a little bit. Just a little bit. Everything was going exactly the way she’d planned. The only hiccup was that, for some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she kind of liked him. Maybe too much.

She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. “If you say so.”

She hooked her toe behind his calf and eyed him, not wanting her intentions to be misunderstood. It was brazen, but so was she. He was attractive and he liked her; she had no reason to look any further tonight. And his own eyes locked onto hers as he wordlessly agreed.

***

The door flew open in a flurry of activity; her mouth pressed against his and his keys falling to the floor. Pieces of their clothing were discarded one by one and through her mind ran the mantra this is not smart, this is not smart. It had only taken an hour for her to realize how much she had already developed a fondness for him. Even though she was here to do exactly what she came to do, she was worried. 

“I don’t usually bring strangers home with me from bars, I think you should know,” he murmured against her neck. 

She looked past him into his apartment, taking note of what she saw. It appeared to be a typical ‘single guy’ apartment, the difference being the clutter. Most men she let take her back to their places had very few possessions, either a remnant of some bad breakup or a product of limited imagination. This guy’s living room was absolutely full of books, papers, and a plethora of materials that surely crowded every corner of his mind as much as they did the room. It didn’t look unclean, just untidy. She smiled at the knowledge she’d pegged him right: he was smart. And lonely.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he suddenly said, pulling back and looking around, his hand going to the back of his neck. He glanced behind him. “I wasn’t expecting company. To be honest, I rarely have… company.”

She took his face in her hands, regarding him. She already knew he was attractive, but there was something in his eyes that drew her in deeper. She was entranced by his intellect; she had been all evening. He’d listened to her and responded with genuine curiosity. He wasn’t like the other men she typically met in bars. It was strange and captivating and she knew she should resist but she could not.

It was for this reason she reminded herself tonight had to be about sex. Just about sex.

“I don’t know your name,” he said. “I’m Fox-”

“Don’t,” she shook her head. Names would make it harder. But then she had to ask. “Fox? Really?” For some reason this strange name only made him more attractive to her. “How’d you end up with that one?”

“Wish I knew,” he laughed. 

“I like it,” she admitted. She did. “Fox.”

And with that, he led her into the bedroom. There were no more words. It felt as if they had an unspoken agreement this would be about tonight, about right now. It was the way she wanted it, the way she always preferred it. 

Usually she would leave right afterwards. But this time, after it was over, he pulled her into him close and she let him. She felt oddly compelled to stay next to him all night. It was probably a mistake, as nearly every part of her was telling her, but she didn’t listen.

When she awoke he was lying on the other side of the bed, sprawled comfortably, and she watched him sleep. She wondered if perhaps she’d sold this one short. Their bodies had agreed, and he fascinated her, he aroused her own intellect. She softly ran her hand across his brow and his eyelids twitched. 

This could be something, really something.

But then her thoughts turned back to her work. It was where she defaulted when things got too difficult, too personal. She had her reasons for keeping things simple.

She slid out of the bed and gathered her clothes, putting them on piece by piece, completely unashamed of this particular walk of shame. But before she could reach the front door he appeared in his bedroom doorway.

“Leaving already?”

She sighed. “I have to get home.” He approached her, pulling on some sweatpants.

“Did I… do something to offend you?”

Poor thing, she thought. He hasn’t done this before.

“No, I had a great time,” she replied. “I just… have to go now, okay?”

“Can I at least have your name?” He looked so disappointed, standing there. Hair tousled, his naïveté dangling on the sleeve he wasn’t wearing. She’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t so goddamn attractive. Surely he’d bounce back.

It was harder to leave than she wanted it to be. And for that reason, she opened the door, looked back over her shoulder, and before closing it again she smiled at him, offering just two parting words. 

“Goodbye, Fox.” 

WASHINGTON, D.C. FIELD OFFICE (WFO)

601 4TH ST NW

FEBRUARY 1988

Weeks passed, and Diana poured herself into her work. Losing herself in the world of the fantastic was the best escape possible and she felt fortunate she had the freedom to do so. 

She had a degree in psychology and had completed her FBI training, trying her hand in both instructing at Quantico and working in the field. But she soon realized her talents and expertise could be better utilized in other ways; so she became an Intelligence Analyst. 

Luckily, this was the perfect job for her to explore the things that interested her most, namely the human brain and its many mysteries. Generous donors had supplied her the means to do so where many others at the Bureau could not. She was a self-admitted workaholic, and although she enjoyed her work immensely, it was quite stressful and filled her life to the brim.

Time passed and she filled her days with the work and her nights with thoughts of the work. Most of the time these thoughts were undisturbed. But snippets of a one night stand that had ended too abruptly would occasionally resurface. 

After she left that apartment he’d been reduced to two words: the fox. And at the back of her mind there existed a burrow, a small space that was dark and deep and dangerous. It was where the fox lived and held on. 

She thought about that night with him a lot. Too much. She hadn’t been affected this way by a man in a long time and it bothered her that she couldn’t let this one go. 

She told herself it was ridiculous; that even if she had space in her life for a relationship, the timing couldn’t be worse. And it wasn’t as if she could find him again anyway, even if she wanted to. She felt a bit guilty for leaving him alone that morning and she certainly didn’t enjoy thinking of that sad puppy dog face he wore as she walked out the door.

His name rolled over and over again through her mind, however, and she clung to that. Fox. She wondered about him, and wondered if he ever wondered about her. 

One afternoon in her office, as if her thoughts were somehow being projected out into the universe, as if some cosmic force were thrusting destiny into her path, she heard a somewhat familiar voice.

“Well, well, well. I guess this must be fate.” 

She was sitting at her desk reading an article and looked up to find the very last person she expected to see. Fox looked more put together in a suit and tie, and his hair was tidy. He cleaned up nicely. A Bureau badge was attached to his lapel and he wore glasses this time, which she found oddly arousing.

Of course. What were the odds of her finding another FBI agent to sleep with near downtown DC? Higher than she realized, obviously. 

“The fox returns,” she said, trying not to smile. “So you work for the Bureau, too?”

“Afraid so.” He didn’t sound upset she hadn’t told him, just a bit confused.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked him playfully, at least as playful as she got. 

“It’s a lot less romantic than that,” he explained, holding up a case file. Her name was written on a post-it note attached to the front. He gestured to her own badge. “I guess you’re my consult.”

“It really is fate, then,” she said, pleased to see him in spite of herself. 

“How long have you worked at the field office? Shame we’ve never bumped into one another.” 

She shrugged. “I’m a private person,” she said by way of explanation. “And besides, who says we haven’t?”

“I think I’d have remembered you,” he grinned. “You really know how to hurt a man’s self esteem, by the way.” 

She could tell he was joking, that she hadn’t really insulted him when she’d left him that morning. Judging by his behavior, he hadn’t been pining away or anything. It made him even more attractive to her; which was extremely inconvenient.

“I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t anything personal,” she explained quickly. “I just… I don’t do relationships.”

“I get it,” he said. “I’m the same way. Married to the Bureau?”

“You could say that.” 

“It’s okay,” he said coolly. “Anyway, I got what I wanted.”

His comment took her aback. She glared at him, but his eyes softened. “I meant your name,” he clarified, pointing to the post-it note, flashing his thousand watt smile. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Would it be all right if we introduced ourselves properly?”

She sighed, remembering how quickly he’d made her feel at ease in their prior encounter. She felt powerless against his rampant charm. “I’m Diana. Fowley. And you’re Fox.” She enunciated the name slowly, deliberately. She liked the way it felt on her tongue.

“Fox Mulder,” he told her. He extended his hand and she shook it. 

God, he was handsome. It struck her that it was the first time she’d shaken a man’s hand after that same hand had been so intimate with her body. 

“So, that really is your name?” she asked, glancing down at his badge.

“It’s not something I’d lie about.” He wandered slowly around the desk towards her. “Chopin?” he asked, noting the calming piano concerto spouting forth from her cassette deck.

“It helps me concentrate.”

He grinned. “I’ve always been partial to Bach.”

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to have the date they didn’t really have last time. She wanted to put a stop to it but she didn’t. She couldn’t help herself.

“How is it you came to know so much about classical music, Fox?” 

“You can call me Mulder,” he said. “I actually prefer it.”

She didn’t.

“I went to school at Oxford,” he explained. “I used to go… well, my ex used to take me to concerts at the Sheldonian. It grew on me.”

“Handsome and Oxford educated? You’ve got quite the list of credentials.”

He shrugged. “I don't usually put out all my credentials on the first date. But I think you and I are past that.” He grinned at her and his eyes sparkled; the same eyes that had drawn her in last time and she knew she was treading in dangerous waters.

“We aren’t on a date.”

“You’re right, we’re not,” he conceded. “But we could be.”

“So what did you come for a consult on, Fox?” she asked, pushing past his proposition and finally facing him, arms crossed in front of her.

“I’m a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We have a convict being re-evaluated for mental competency, due to some claims he’s made that defy explanation.”

“Such as?” She was intrigued. Things that defied explanation were her weakness. Handsome men talking to her about the subject were even better.

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” she smirked.

He shrugged. “Psychic abilities. How does that grab ya?”

She removed her glasses and folded them, placing them in her coat pocket. She leaned back in her chair. “I’ve seen some patients display remarkable aptitude for clairvoyance, precognitive behaviors, even psychokinesis. There have been extensive studies on the phenomenon. While it’s still considered pseudoscience, it seems to be within the realm of possibility.”

Fox gaped at her, a small grin curving up either side of his mouth.

“You… believe in that kind of thing?” he asked.

“I’ve seen too much not to believe it.”

He looked at her in wonder, his eyes bright and engaged, seemingly speechless at her revelation. “I guess they sent me to the right person, then. How do you know about all this stuff?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly retracted. “I don’t mean- I just mean, they sent me to see an Intelligence Analyst that specializes in psych. I’m just surprised you’re even interested in the paranormal.”

“I have a background in parascience,” she explained. “It’s not something the Bureau utilizes much, but it comes in handy from time to time, I suppose… Whenever all your other avenues have been exhausted.” 

Again, he seemed at a loss for words. “I find the subject fascinating, actually,” he said, that same tone he’d used in the bar creeping back into his voice.

“Do you?” She’d never had a man claim an interest in the paranormal to get into her pants. It was oddly refreshing.

“I do,” he replied. “It isn’t often I run into someone who would entertain such possibilities. It’s… refreshing.”

She interpreted his wording as yet another sign this man was somehow meant to be in her life. She believed in lots of things, including fate, and she was starting to believe in him as well.

“I know what you mean,” she agreed. “It’s frustrating when all the people around you refuse to have an open mind.”

“I was actually just reading about a theory that claims prehistoric evidence of alien astronauts that landed here on earth.” He looked at her expectantly and she wasn’t sure if he was putting her on or not. 

Her eyes widened. “Wow. Do you open with that at parties?”

“Not ones I’m invited back to,” he chuckled. “I was just curious about your thoughts.”

“I’ve read about that, too. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it. It’s a long held theory, but…” she trailed off.

“...Wildly unpopular?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds right up my alley,” he grinned. 

“Mine too, actually,” she admitted.

She smiled back and they looked at each other for a moment. The attraction she’d felt for him before was only growing exponentially, and it unnerved her. Before the feeling could continue for too long she interrupted it by holding her hand out for his file. “Well. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He handed her the file and she flipped through it. “Did you do MRIs? Ah,” she removed them and stood, inserting them into the light box on the wall. She scanned them carefully and then pointed to a small section of the scan.

“This is what we look for in these types of cases, here in the temporal lobe,” she explained. “It’s rare, but it seems to be the common denominator. If you look closely, you can actually see faint activity here.”

Fox leaned in next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder. She wanted to feel uncomfortable, a feeling that was comfortable to her, but instead felt overwhelming contentment. Not to mention he smelled incredible.

“And this is… unusual?”

She nodded. “It’s called the God Module. We rarely see any activity at all here. But sometimes there’s a faint hint of something in patients who demonstrate precognition, or advanced intelligence. It sometimes even shows up during extreme religious experiences.”

“Sounds like science fiction to me,” he winked, but she could tell he was being playful. “You’ve actually seen this demonstrated?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she explained. “Many in my field believe great leaps in science and other achievements were accomplished by individuals with access to this part of the brain. Galileo, Newton, Einstein. All corollaries to this theory.” She indicated the scans on the wall. “Looks like your guy could be one of them.” She leaned closer to the scans. “Luther Lee Boggs,” she read. “If you’d like, I could run a psych eval on him for you.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d offered. She told herself it was because this kind of brain activity was rare and she was lucky to have this case dropped into her lap. But the truth was she really just wanted to see the fox again.

His eyes went dark as he looked at her, predatory. It was then she knew for sure she hadn’t had the upper hand this entire time; that she was indeed his prey, and she was completely helpless. She wanted his case and he knew it. He liked her, and she knew it. 

“Have dinner with me,” he said.

She crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. “This sounds a lot like extortion.”

“It’s dinner.”

“I told you, I don’t do relationships.”

“You mentioned that,” he said. “But you do eat, right?”

She sighed and shook her head, smiling. “You sure are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s important,” he said. “One dinner. Then I’ll take you to see Boggs.”

Fate, he’d said. Maybe it was fate. As a man, he hit every one of the boxes on her checklist. Physically, she had zero complaints. He was interested in her work, not put off by it. And he was definitely interested in her. 

She looked into his eyes, saw them actively changing color as he watched and waited for her answer, and she knew she was done for. Maybe this could be fun. Maybe he was exactly what she needed. Maybe he could help relieve some of the stress she’d been under.

Maybe just for a while.

“Dinner. Okay,” she agreed.

CAPITOL HILL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JUNE 1988

Dinner turned into sex, which turned into more dinners, until several months had passed and Diana Fowley found herself in a relationship with Fox Mulder. 

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, whenever she’d allowed herself to imagine one. And although she’d resigned herself to a life alone, she was walking back her preconceived notions. She wanted to be with him, she enjoyed it. They were so alike in so many ways. Maybe they could actually make this work. 

Snapping herself out of thoughts of the fox, she turned her attention to the task at hand. Today was an important day. She was standing in the hallway of the Capitol building, a stack of all her latest research carefully organized inside her briefcase. 

It had been several months since she’d attended a meeting like this one and she was a bit nervous. She wasn’t certain to whom exactly she’d be presenting today, but her grant was due for review and she hadn’t been this anxious since those first few weeks back at the academy years ago, when she knew she was being observed closely.

The freedom to pursue her interests in parascience hadn’t come easily. It wasn’t the kind of subject discussed much among her peers at work. Fortunately, her research had been noticed by people outside the Bureau who mattered. 

She took the stairwell down to the lower levels of the Capitol, to a hideaway office. It wasn’t the Senator’s typical meeting spot, and she was certain it was for the benefit of whomever they were meeting with today. She’d barely been sitting outside the unmarked office door for one minute when it opened and a woman poked her head out.

“Miss Fowley? The Senator will see you now.”

She stood and entered, a bit apprehensive. The office was much bigger than it had a right to be, considering where it was situated. The ceilings were vaulted and the adornments were breathtaking. 

The Senator got up from his chair and leaned over the desk, extending his hand. “Diana, so nice to see you again.”

“Senator Matheson.” She shook his hand, settling down in the chair across from his desk. Behind him was a man she’d never seen before, leaning against the wall with an inscrutable expression on his face and a cigarette in his hand. 

The senator was tall and his hair was graying. When she’d met him a year ago, there’d been an immediate attraction between them and she thought there might have been some expectation of a quid pro quo. It wasn’t anything she considered beneath her; Diana wasn’t one to dismiss using every attribute available to her to get where she needed to go. But the expectation never became reality. Matheson was genuinely interested in her work, always had been, and the funding she received from him had been gratefully accepted. Without his patronage she’d never have had the ability to pursue her work in parascience through official FBI channels.

“I’ve brought some progress reports for you to see,” she said, fumbling inside her briefcase. “I think you’ll be very pleased. I have some new research focused on not only what we know of the brain, but the parts of the brain we know practically nothing about.”

Ever since she began seeing Fox, the God Module theory had been at the top of her research priority list. They’d begun to see psych patients together that exhibited precognitive behaviors, and while Fox found them interesting on a more visceral level, what she often found most exciting was the potential; not only for her own discoveries but for the great leaps in knowledge they presented. 

Senator Matheson raised his hand to stop her presentation. “No need, I’m sure your work has been exemplary.” He smiled, and she was confused.

“Sir? I’m sorry, I was under the impression that this was an evaluation.”

“No, I’ve asked you here because there’s been… a development.”

Diana looked behind him at the stranger, who was eyeing her carefully as he puffed on his cigarette. Something about him put her off balance. She glanced at Matheson, expecting an introduction that wasn’t forthcoming. 

“What kind of development?”

Matheson sat back into his chair. “There’s a group I’m involved with, scientists and researchers in the private sector who are working on projects… experiments, really, that are pushing the boundaries of modern science, psychology… amazing things, Diana. I’ve told them about you, and they’ve taken an interest in your work.”

Diana was surprised, but intrigued. “Oh?”

Matheson leaned forward in his chair. “They’re willing to double the yearly amount of the grant I’ve offered you.”

Double? Diana was floored. Rarely was her field of expertise taken seriously by anyone. Her work was barely tolerated, much less encouraged. “That’s… that’s wonderful, sir. I’m thrilled to hear that.”

“If you accept, you’ll be under a private exclusivity contract with them for the next five years. It means you’ll get to continue your work while at the Bureau just as you have been, only they will direct your research, fund it, and retain the rights to your findings.”

This concerned Diana, as she worked hard for the discoveries she made. Passing off the credit wasn’t something she was eager to do. But it seemed a small price to pay for her to have the resources to push ahead. “I think that...sounds acceptable.”

“Things will be a bit different, however, Diana,” Matheson continued. “You’ll no longer be reporting to me.”

The man behind Matheson stood and moved behind the senator, placing a hand on his shoulder. He reached around to put his cigarette out in the ashtray, took a long look at Diana, and exited the room. She watched the door close behind him. 

“Who was that?”

Matheson ignored her question. “You’ll be contacted by someone soon. But Diana-” she looked back at her benefactor. “I cannot stress to you enough the importance of the secrecy of this work. It’s highly classified.”

She nodded, even more intrigued. 

“You’ll be able to tell no one, not family, friends. No one.”

She hesitated, knowing keeping this from Fox would be difficult. But their relationship was still relatively new, and this opportunity seemed once in a lifetime. Her curiosity won out. 

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” she promised.  “Can I ask… about the nature of these experiments?” 

“The Company will explain what they can. There are limits to your access, at least for the time being.” He pinned her with a look, that look he got whenever he was speaking wistfully of space exploration or American history. She liked Matheson, they shared a certain simpatico. “But I think doors will be opened for you, Diana. Doors you’ve probably been knocking at for years.”

In spite of the strange nature of this meeting, of this entire situation, she felt a flutter in her stomach that could only be the galvanizing excitement of discovery. It was even better than sex. And few things were.

Matheson stood and extended his hand. “It’s a shame to see you go, Diana, but I’ll rest easy in the knowledge you’re in good hands. I only hope someday I find another protogé as worthwhile as yourself.”

She reached for his hand and shook it. “Thank you, sir, for the opportunity you’ve given me in the first place. I’ll always be grateful.” She turned and walked out of the room, determined her life was about to change, that she could be making a real difference someday.

That night when she saw Fox, he asked her how her day was. She said it was good. 

It didn’t feel like a lie.

[swissmissficrecs]

Word count: 83,557 Chapters: 14/14 Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Working relationships between various OCs, one more relationship to be added later, see trigger warning for details Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Philip Anderson, various OCs, see trigger warning at the start of chapter 1 for one more canon character Additional Tags: Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scuba Diving, Technical diving, wreck diving, Marine archaeology, Guatemalan coast, Malta, Sherlock is asexual, and John is a horndog, relationship drama, Sherlock doesn't play well with others, Academia, John Watson is a Good Doctor, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Lousy pickup lines, Tropical wankage, Slow Burn, Convention-challenging romance, Alternate Universe, Please note the trigger warning at the start of chapter 1, Consent is Sexy, John likes consent very much, Underwater Peril Summary:

John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

======

Rec: I was instantly smitten with this amazing re-imagination of our two favorite characters against the backdrop of paradise in an explosive package of high-tension action, dark secrets, technical expertise, medical drama, and human emotion.

The story takes us on an exotic trip around the world from the scintillating subterranean scenery of Malta to the treacherous tropical depths off the coast of Guatemala in the intrepid company of the no-nonsense, smooth-talking jack-of-all-trades John Watson and the secretive, antisocial genius Sherlock Holmes. There is an instant attraction which both men struggle to keep at bay, for different reasons... and the discovery of those underlying breakwaters is the driving force behind the rest of the story. Coupled with that is an adventurous and dangerous quest to find an elusive holy grail of underwater archaeology. Which turns out, in a twist of authorial genius, to be linked to the first mystery, in a very direct way.

I truly felt as if I had been taken along on the journey every step of the way, learning about both the science and sport of diving along the way - in a perfect metaphor for the main characters, joining the technical with the emotional, the drive for truth and knowledge tempered by heart and soul. This fic is not just a story, but a meticulously executed example of mastery of the art of story-telling that works on multiple levels.

There is a trigger warning on this fic with a linked spoilery explanation. I looked at it after reading, and for me it was better that I didn’t know it before. The reveal within the story was fantastic -- it really took me by surprise -- and the potentially upsetting issue is never shown directly. My advice would actually be to ask the author (who is on tumblr) or someone who has read the fic, if there is something that you would prefer not to read, to see if that is the thing that is warned for. Otherwise it would be a shame to spoil yourself for something that turns out not to be a deal-breaker for you.

[d3-iseefire]

The Symphony of Cinderella Chapter 3

Adagio (Chapter 3)

Note: I’m going to add one more chapter as a bonus. It’ll still end with Chapter 6, and then 7 will be an extra scene I thought of that I think will be fun. :D

A week later the phone was still silent.

Bilba frowned at where it lay on the bedspread. It was late, late enough that she should have been asleep hours ago.

Sleep had proven elusive, however, which had led to her current situation, sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at a phone.

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t called. If he’d just wanted to be nice he wouldn’t have left the phone, right? And if he left the phone because he expected something then he’d have called.

Right?

She sighed and flopped back on the thin mattress.

Outside her window, loud footsteps clattered up a set of stairs leading to the second floor. They’d been happening regularly and were a large part of why she’d been unable to get any sleep. Part of her wanted to go investigate what was so popular up there, but the sane part of her understood she was probably better off not knowing.

She thought of her family in a far fancier hotel nearly fifteen minutes away an fought a surge of resentment. It wasn’t anything new, they always stayed in nicer places, leaving her to cheaper hotels in their never-ending quest to “teach her humility.”

She let out a huff and tried to focus on things she was grateful for, such as the ability to breathe through her nose again. The experience was somewhat dampened by the musty smell in the room but she comforted herself with the fact they’d be leaving in Mirkwood in the morning so she’d only have to deal with it for a few more minutes. 

She was more than ready to leave Mirkwood behind her. Perhaps she’d think differently had she been able to get out and see any of it but, as it was, all the memories she had from the place involved run down theaters and raging sinus infections.

More footsteps, and Bilba sat up with a grimace. The constant noise was grating, like nails on a chalkboard or a dripping faucet. That was another memory she’d have from this place, and one she’d be more than happy to leave behind.

She picked up the phone again with a scowl and opened the contacts. She pulled up a text box for “Bringer of Aspirin” and stared at it as if she could force answers through sheer will.

She had no idea what his name was or even what he even looked like. She’d been too miserable to look up. All she knew was he’d had a deep voice and had brought her soup.

And left her a phone that he hadn’t used once.

She hesitated, and hovered her fingers over the keypad. She should at least thank him, right? They were leaving Mirkwood tomorrow, so it wasn’t like she had to deal with him if he did end up being weird...so...

Pain lanced through her lip followed by the metallic taste of blood and she realized she’d been chewing on her lower lip so hard she’d managed to bite through.

Another round of footsteps from outside and she glared at the closed curtains. Then she let out a huff and, before she could talk herself out of it, typed a quick message on the screen.

Thanks for the soup and everything. I really appreciate it.

She forced herself to hit send and put the phone down. Her stomach fluttered and she scowled at it. She was being ridiculous. It was late, he probably wouldn’t even see it until—

The phone buzzed.

Bilba jumped and her heart jolted. She picked the phone up, gingerly as if it were a live snake, and pulled up the message.

You’re welcome. I hope it helped.

She waited, but several minutes passed and nothing else came through.

It did, she wrote back finally. I feel less like death warmed over now.

She chewed absently on her lower lip and tried to bat down the feeling that she was now the one bothering him. She wasn’t sure why she was basically inviting him to start a conversation. Hadn’t she just been worrying about him being a weirdo?

Good, the phone buzzed a moment later. Glad to know I helped avert a zombie apocalypse breaking out in Mirkwood.

Bilba laughed in surprise and texted back. If only the people knew how close they came. Lucky for them, they had you to stand in the breach and hold back calamity.

She reread her words and grimaced. Was that over the top and weird? It was probably over the top and weird.

I deserve a medal, he replied.

Bilba snorted. Forget the medal. Ask for something practical, like a pony, or a lifetime supply of hot chocolate.

Instead of a word response this time he simply sent back an emoji of a face crying with laughter, before adding a second text that said, You are absolutely right. What good is a medal? All it does is sit there and look shiny.

I suppose you could use it to fight off burglars, Bilba sent, but it'd be such a waste when you could have just gotten a dog.

So true. There was a pause and then a new text. If you don't mind my asking, how did you like Mirkwood? Aside from the near death, zombie apocalypse thing of course.

Bilba giggled. She scooted backward until she could shove a pillow between her back and headboard and lean back against it. She doubted he wanted to hear her whine about Mirkwood so she sent back, I didn't get to see much of it, but it seems nice. We're heading out tomorrow.

Are you? Where to next?

The Iron Hills, Bilba wrote. She was not looking forward to the trip. Hours upon hours of being trapped in a car with her stepmother, Lotho, Otho and Priscilla. There wasn't near enough room for them all and their belongings so, by the end, they were all guaranteed to be in less than stellar moods. Then Lake-town, and Dale and then we finish in Erebor.

Really? he wrote back. That's an odd route. Wouldn't it make more sense to hit Erebor, Dale and Lake-town and then finish in the Iron Hills?

It would, Bilba agreed. But my stepmother found out about a festival in Erebor to celebrate the prince's birthday and she's determined to be there for it.

Does she know it's a month away?

She does, Bilba answered with a sigh. Somehow her stepmother was intending to make the rest of the tour last a month to ensure they arrived in Erebor at exactly the right time. She didn’t want to know how that was going to work out. She’s got her eyes set on the ball Erebor is throwing to cap the whole thing off. 

How'd she manage to get an invitation? came the reply. I'd heard it was pretty exclusive.

Bilba tappe d a finger on her knee but then, deciding he’d probably hear about it anyway, went ahead and sent - The Thain of the Shire is my grandfather and she's been trying to leverage that the entire trip. It’s never workd, but my guess is she won't let that stop her from trying again.

The Thain? he asked. Doesn't that make you a princess?

Bilba rolled her eyes. NO. It's a hereditary title. It meant something once, but now it's pretty much just honorary. He’s really just a figurehead who comes out for parades and such. 

He was more or less the Shire’s diplomat/ambassador, in fact, a job that kept him incredibly busy but it certainly wasn’t anything that gave him the power or authority Lobelia liked to pretend he had.

Still, came the reply. That does technically make you royalty, honorary or not.

I suppose if you want to get technical, Bilba sent back grudgingly. Her stepmother insisted on it so often that the mere mention of the title gave her a nervous twitch. It never mattered until this tour when my stepmother started using it to try and get meetings with royal families and invites to balls. She's convinced she can marry my stepsister off to royalty.

She'd be disappointed in the Erebor ball then, came the response. That particular prince is spoken for.

Who knows? Bilba wrote back. Maybe there will be a lord or some such that will take an interest.

Her stepsister was pretty and if she got married off perhaps Lobelia would be taken up with that and leave Bilba alone more. It was a pleasant thought.

What about you? he asked. Looking to land a prince yourself?

Bilba shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see. Depends on what you're defining as a prince.

Good point, he answered. What do you define as a prince?

Someone kind, Bilba replied without hesitation. Strong, protective. Someone who can make me laugh, maybe. Someone with a big family.

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown as she studied the text she'd just sent. It was far more than she'd meant to reveal, especially to a stranger.

Thing was, though, he didn't feel like a stranger. She had to remind herself that she didn't know his name, or what he looked like. She had to remind herself that she'd heard his voice exactly once and this was the first conversation they'd ever had.

She had to remind herself, because it certainly didn't feel like that. It felt like she was talking to someone she'd known a very long time. It was comfortable, easy. Like she'd simply picked up the phone at the end of the day to talk to a friend.

She’d always wondered what that would feel like.

Why a big family? he asked a few minutes later.

Just seems like it'd be nice, Bilba sent back, unwilling to get any deeper into the mess that was her family. I always thought having a sibling would be fun.

It wasn't until after she'd hit send that she remembered she'd already mentioned her stepsister to him. Fantastic, he'd either think she was crazy now or a jerk who refused to acknowledge her stepsister as a true sibling.

She was just so used to Priscilla introducing her as a “distant relation,” that she forgot people who didn’t know them might look at her strangely if she announced she had no siblings. She didn’t, but it wasn’t what she had ever wanted.

You say that, his response came back, but just wait until your younger brother "borrows" your favorite shirt and returns it with both sleeves ripped off, insisting it was a "stylistic choice."

Bilba laughed, shoulders that had been bunched around her ears relaxing. Sounds wonderful, she couldn't help sending back. Though I'd have probably sat him down and made him sew them back on again.

You're close to what happened, came the reply. Fair enough, though. I suppose it's easy sometimes to miss what you have right in front of you.

Feeling suddenly impulsive, Bilba snapped on the bedside lamp and used the faint light to take a picture of her creepy bathroom. She sent it to him along with Speaking of what's right in front of you, check out what I have to put up with.

There was silence, for long enough that the small smile she had started to waver. Had she gone too far? Maybe he didn't appreciate her changing the direction of the conversation or --

The phone rang.

Bilba jumped so hard she smacked her head against the headboard behind her. She stared at the phone in her hand for a few seconds, and then fumbled to answer it. "Hello?"

"Why do you have a portal to the underworld in your hotel room?" a deep voice demanded.

Bilba giggled and pulled her feet in closer, wrapping her free arm around her knees. "Right? I should have turned the bathroom light on before it got dark."

"I'm not sure it would have helped," he said dryly. "I didn't realize Mirkwood catered to the underworld."

"It would explain the giant spiders," Bilba said sagely. "I saw one the other day and I'm pretty sure it was as big as a small dog."

"Must have been a small one then," he said dryly. "Most of the ones I've seen could be saddled and ridden. I think it's even been suggested to Thranduil that he consider training and selling them as an extra source of income."

Bilba suppressed a shudder. "Well, then I'm doubly glad we're leaving tomorrow. The less chance of seeing a pony sized spider the better."

He chuckled and the sound sent a strange thrill through her. Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself. She barely knew him. He could still end up being a serial killer.

Footsteps clattered up the stairs yet again and she sighed. "I think the main portal must be on the second floor. People have been coming and going up it all night."

"What motel are you in?" he asked.

"Mirkwood Inn and Suites near the river," she replied without thinking and then instantly kicked herself for her stupidity. She'd just warned herself about the fact she didn't know him and then immediately turned around and told him where she was.

Maybe her stepmother was onto something about her being irresponsible after all.

He let out a hiss. "That's not in the best part of town. I'm surprised your stepmother chose to stay there."

Her stepmother hadn't chosen to stay there, Bilba thought with annoyance. Hr stepmother had chosen to stay at a much nicer hotel on the far side of town where there were no portals to the underworld in the bathroom, and where there were no stairways right outside her window.

Something heavy thudded against her door suddenly and Bilba gasped, tensing as the door rattled in its frame. A slurred voice mumbled something outside her door. 

"Are you all right?" her new friend(?) demanded over the phone.

Bilba nodded shakily and then, remembering he couldn't see her, said, "Yeah, I think someone is drunk and thinks this is their room."

"Who are you sharing the room with?"

"No one," Bilba whispered, “it’s just me.”

It had been just her for a very long time.

She pursed her lips as tears threatened. She was not going to start crying on the phone to a total stranger. “I better go, if he hears me talking it’ll just encourage him. Besides, you probably have to get up pretty early for the theater."

"The theater?" he asked.

"Yeah." Bilba pushed the blankets back, trying to ignore the musty smell coming off them, and slid underneath. She curled up on her side with her back to the door and lowered her voice to a whisper. "How early do stagehands have to be there? I'm always there pretty much as soon as the doors open, but I've never beaten you guys."

"Pretty early I'd imagine," he said mildly. "I’ve enjoyed talking to you."

"Me too," Bilba replied with a yawn. She felt strangely relaxed despite all the commotion around her room and thought she might end up getting some sleep after all. 

"Thank you again for the soup --" she paused. She'd been about to say his name, only to remember, with some surprise, that she still didn't know it. "I just realized I never asked your name."

"Fili," he said. "At your service."

In her fatigue, Bilba decided he sounded almost flirty and heat flooded her face in response. Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself. She was not flirting with someone she'd never even officially met. “It’s nice to meet you, Fili,” she said softly. “So to speak.”

"So to speak,” he agreed. “Maybe I'll talk to you later?" he asked, sounding hopeful. Or at least Bilba convinced herself he did. She didn’t think anyone had ever sounded hopeful about speaking to her, but it was a nice thought to have.

"I'd like that," Bilba admitted. "Don't feel bad if I don't respond right away, okay? If my stepmother finds out I'm talking to you she'll freak."

"Overprotective?" Fili asked. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Sure," Bilba whispered. A hollow feeling settled into her gut at the thought of actually having a parent who cared enough to worry that she was speaking to a virtual stranger. "I'll talk to you later, Fili."

She hung up and settled on her side. The bedside lamp was still on, but she had no interest in turning it off.

A second thud sounded against her door, and she tensed and mentally tried to will the drunk to go away. She pulled the blanket up and focused on the far wall, idly counting the number of steps it took different people outside to get up the stairs.

Her body began to relax again, and she started imagining what it would be like in a family with Fili and his unnamed brother. The thought was a pleasant one, and she yawned and settled deeper into the mattress.

It vaguely occurred to her that the stairs and the hall outside her door had fallen quiet. In the pleasant silence, she sighed and drifted off to sleep.

Her final thought before sleep claimed her was that, for the first time in a long time, she was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263070/chapters/53163472