#though I did have the best time writing Tome the other day

[ygodmyy20]

Me: you should finish your current fanfic chapter so you can get to editing it and post it!

Also me........but what about that super intense angsty part that happens later, what if...what if we write that right now instead?

[dekariosclan]

A Tav who, from the first moment they meet Gale, knows they could never be his equal. A Tav who is painfully aware that they are lacking in intelligence, but not wise enough to know how to improve it. A Tav who isn’t handsome, beautiful, or attractive. A Tav who doesn’t love their own body, the sound of their own voice, or the face that looks back at them from the mirror. A Tav who is kind and gentle with others, but not with themselves.

A Tav who cannot understand why Gale fell in love with them, much less why he was so eager to wed them. A Tav who now constantly asks themselves: How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They watch Gale with affection as he pours over tomes in their home in Waterdeep, night after night, breezing through ancient writings that they themselves know they would never be able to comprehend or follow. They love to listen to him talk, and nod with genuine interest as he tells them everything he’s discovered; not completely understanding, but only asking questions on the rare occasions when they truly cannot grasp what he’s trying to convey. They wonder if their stretches of silence secretly annoy Gale, or if their occasional questions do, but he never seems to be anything other than elated as they listen to him. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

At his request, they often join him at Blackstaff Academy for lunch. They watch as his colleagues engage him in scholarly discussions that they cannot participate in. They see the glances he gets from his more attractive colleagues, interest that goes beyond professional courtesy; yet he still breaks away as quickly as he can to whisk Tav off to the solitude of his office, sit down next to them, kiss them, ask them about their day. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They greet him warmly when he arrives back home every evening. On the nights that Gale cooks, they love to watch him prepare meals, his hands as graceful and deft as when he’s casting spells. On the nights that they cook, they always feel a slight pang of anxiety, wondering if the simple meal they’ve prepared is good enough, but Gale showers them with compliments and cleans his plate every time. The stories Gale shares from the Academy over dinner are as interesting as they are amusing, making Tav laugh almost as much as the bad puns he sprinkles into the conversation like seasoning. They try their best to match his wit when they tell him about the events from their day, but they always feel that the stories they share are much less amusing or interesting than his, even though Gale listens with rapt attention to every word. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

One evening, as the sun dips slowly into the sea from their view on the balcony, Gale suddenly stops speaking. Tav looks up in surprise, as he’d been regaling them with discoveries from an ancient text he’d finished reading.

“Is everything alright, love?” They ask, their heart suddenly pounding as they see Gale staring at them intensely. He responds with a soft apology, and says that it just occurred to him that he has a question he needs to ask them. Most urgently.

The pounding of their heart now fades to a hollow echo, as they’re sure they know what he will ask: Why would a man of his talent and understanding continue to stay with someone as mediocre, unimpressive, and plain as they are?

…but instead, he takes both their hands in his, holding them gently but firmly, and gazes lovingly into their eyes. “I spend my days caught up in academic discussions, decisions and debates. I do enjoy it of course, for the most part, but…to come home to you, to be able to talk without being judged or spoken over, to have your calm attention, the balm of your quiet intellect and understanding…you are an oasis for my soul.” He smiles and lifts their hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. “I’ve read so many books, learned from the brightest scholars, and yet, I still cannot understand…how did I get so lucky as to be loved by you?”

[sloanesallow]

a little less sixteen candles

Something I wrote for Sloane's birthday (April 28th, 1875). I didn't anticipate it being so bittersweet, but that's what happens when your MC's birthday coincides with the end-game events.... (art by puri.dew) SWF | 2.6k words [read on Ao3] | [read on wattpad] | [tumblr masterpost]

It's spring—late April, to be exact. Flowers bloom all over the Scottish Highlands, and students take advantage of the warmer weather to spend their afternoons and evenings outdoors. Most travel to Hogsmeade and the surrounding hamlets, some take to the Quidditch pitch, and others lounge in the courtyards to daydream and watch the clouds pass by.

Instead of enjoying the beauty of nature or spending quality time with his friends, Sebastian is holed up in the Undercroft, scribbling notes on a blackboard with the last nub of chalk. On the table nearby, several textbooks and dusty tombs are spread open, their margins littered with more of his scrawl. He dusts his fingers off, smearing white across his pant leg before grabbing a quill to hunch over the latest pilfering from the Restricted Section.

Curses, Curses, and Even More Curses

It is an encyclopedia of sorts, one Sebastian found tucked away in some dark corner of the library's basement, being used to prop up a wobbly cabinet. The book smells like it has been fermenting in the lake and is icy cold to the touch, but the few pages that remain legible offer more information than he's been able to gleam in recent months. Despite having Salazar Slytherin's spellbook, it has taken considerable effort and time to translate, and even then the ancient writings refer to artifacts and magic Sebastian is just barely starting to comprehend.

He is reading a particularly interesting passage about blood sacrifices when he realizes he is no longer alone. Ominis stands on the other side of the table, eyebrows bunched together and lips pursed in an everlasting state of dissatisfaction. When the bloody hell did he sneak in?

"I won't bother with asking what it is you are doing, as I have no interest in arguing with you this evening."

"Lucky me," Sebastian quips back. Their friendship has been strained ever since Anne's curse, the relationship gradually turning into something far more toxic. But the fear of losing one of his best and only friends is overshadowed by the deep dread that consumes Sebastian every day—he will not let Anne die.

He attempts to refocus his attention to the yellowed pages of the old tome. "It must be a special occasion, if you're letting me off so easily."

"Now that you mention it," Ominis replies, sardonically.

When he doesn't elaborate, Sebastian glances up and finds himself curious for a new reason. His friend is dressed up, or rather, dressed down, in a neat but casual ensemble that is so uncharacteristic it might as well be a prank. Since when did Ominis walk around in anything less than his school uniform?

"Today is a special occasion," Ominis finally clarifies, though his tone makes it obvious he is teasing Sebastian for the gap in knowledge.

"Uh..."

What day is it? He wonders, furrowing his brow in thought. Tuesday? What important event occurs on a Tuesday other than...potions? No, he attended class that morning, even if he cannot recall the details of Professor Sharp's lecture. Crossed Wands? That isn't until Friday. All Sebastian really remembers from the last twelve hours is bartering with the kitchen-elves for leftovers after missing dinner, again. That, and being shooed away from the library by Madam Scribner, again.

The prolonged silence causes Ominis to scoff, more irritated than before. "Seriously, Sebastian?" he snaps, shaking his head. "Do you really not remember? Ugh, why am I even surprised? I only came down here to confirm for myself that you truly are lost."

"I am not—"

"Shut up," Ominis cuts him off with a pointed look that is a tad more menacing than usual. "After all she did to remind us—you—" he sighs, temper simmering. "Siobhan did well to hide her disappointment, but even I could tell by the sound of her voice she was upset by your absence."

"Sloane?" Sebastian blinks several times as the realization dawns on him. Tuesday. The twenty-eighth day of April.

Today is Sloane's birthday.

He drops the book and threads his hands through his hair in exasperation, cursing under his breath, "shit."

"It is remarkable, really, the patience that girl has," Ominis remarks, ignoring the way Sebastian starts to frantically pace. "More than I posses, at least. I do not know the details, nor do I wish to, but it is a small miracle she considers you a friend, for all you have put her through."

Sebastian pauses to glare at his friend, almost daring him to repeat the snide comment. What the hell does he know? But, for what seems like the millionth time in five years, Ominis is right. In his pursuit for a cure, he is slowly alienating the people he cares about. Sloane is a recent addition to his inner circle, though sometimes it feels as if she's been there all along. His feelings for the Hufflepuff are...complicated, to put it mildly. Sebastian knows he likes her, perhaps more than he's ever liked a member of the opposite sex. However, inexperience and denial leave him unwilling to call it love.

He lets out a pitiful groan, palms pressed hard against his eyes.

"I can't believe I forgot!" The memory of Sloane inviting them to a small celebration in Hogsmeade crashes into view, adding to his shame. He's been so wrapped up in research and schoolwork that it slipped his mind. "Merlin's beard—I'm an arse!"

"Yes," Ominis flatly agrees, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Good thing wallowing in self-pity solves everything."

Sebastian frowns, his gut twisting with regret, frustrated by his own preoccupation. The spread of journals and scribbled notes seem to taunt him, his head and heart torn between obligation and desire. He returns to pacing, murmuring incoherently as his brain tries to prioritize what the first step should be. Bathe? No time. He unceremoniously sniffs under his arm and winces—a cleaning charm will have to suffice.

"Is she still in Hogsmeade?" he asks, allowing some hope to flourish when Ominis nods. "Do you think...she'll forgive me?"

"She shouldn't," Ominis says, sighing again. He shakes his head, almost as if he is humored by Sebastian's enthusiasm. "But she will."

Sebastian allows himself thirty minutes to get to the Three Broomsticks. It's still early, but Sloane and her friends have already been celebrating in Hogsmeade for most of the afternoon. Better late than never, right? After fixing his appearance as best he can in the nearest washroom, he rushes to the kitchens and haggles with the kitchen-elves for the second time that day, this time for pastries so he doesn't show up completely empty handed. He will need to procure a proper gift when his mind isn't so rattled.

By the time Sebastian exits the great hall, the sun is just setting beyond the horizon. It's warm, and as he speed-walks across the viaduct courtyard, sweat forms on his brow and neck and elsewhere he does not want to think about. Knowing his luck, he'll be a perspiring, smelly mess by the time he makes it to Hogsmeade. How attractive, he mumbles to himself, checking over his clothing again to make sure he's properly buttoned and tucked and—

"Sebastian?"

He freezes mid-step, snapping his gaze up to find Sloane and two of her Hufflepuff roommates—Poppy Sweeting and Lenora Everleigh—standing at the top of the stone steps. Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, but his short-circuiting brain won't allow a coherent sentence to form.

Eventually, he squeaks, "me."

Poppy and Lenora giggle while Sloane's lips curl into a sympathetic smile. All Sebastian can focus on is the pale pink of her dress and the way the curve of her neck and collarbone are exposed, making it that much more difficult to speak. Her cropped hair has a slight curl to the ends, and...is that rouge on her cheeks? He's never seen her look so...

"Wow," he breathes, perfectly aware of how lopsided his grin must look. Sebastian straightens up a little, clutching the small, wrapped box of baked goods in his hands. He lets out a shaky laugh. "I was...just coming to find you, actually."

"You were?" Sloane's eyes widen in surprise—is his presence that startling? He tries not to frown at the gut-wrenching realization that she didn't expect him to show up at all. When her friends don't budge to give them any privacy, he reaches up to tug at the knot of his tie, the suffocating feeling lingering as they stare down at him. Sebastian feels like he might faint, or retch, or both.

"Sloane, I—"

"Oh, this'll be rich," Lenora mutters, rolling her eyes. The dark-haired Hufflepuff is consistently disapproving of his relationship with Sloane, though he can't imagine why. Or maybe he can.

Poppy hushes her and the three return to holding similar, expectant expressions. Sebastian clears his throat.

"I—I'm an absolute git for forgetting your birthday," he starts, hoping he sounds as earnest as he feels. Multiple excuses tickle the tip of his tongue but he knows better in that moment than to offer any. This is his fault, his burden to bear. "I'm so sorry, sorrier than you can imagine."

"That's what he said last time, isn't it?" Lenora mumbles.

If Sebastian isn't trying so desperately to look forlorn, he would glare at her. Now's not the time for a reminder of how he's unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally hurt Sloane. For all the mistakes he's made, she has forgiven him time and time again, and everyone in their circle has noticed. Regardless of how much he wants it, maybe he is undeserving of her grace. Maybe the best gift he can give is to cut himself out of her life for good—one less burden for her to worry about in an already chaotic first—fifth—year.

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach and his hopeful smile falls into a dejected pout. Before Sebastian can fully spiral into another pity-party of one, he flicks his gaze back to Sloane and decides that surrender simply isn't in his nature.

"Can we talk?" he softly asks. He'll beg if he has to, even at the risk of making an even bigger arse of himself in front of Sloane and her friends. "Please?"

Even though Lenora and Poppy are hesitant to let Sloane go, she waves away their worried whispers and nods. "Okay."

While her friends reluctantly head back towards the castle, Sebastian and Sloane find their way to the boathouse, the long walk accented by their echoing footsteps and sideways glances. More than once he thinks about reaching out to hold her hand but refrains, not wanting to further muddle their already shaky friendship. Sloane surprises him when they reach the pier, balancing herself against the wall so she can discard her heeled loafers and stockings. She perches herself on the dock's edge, bare feet just barely grazing the dark lake waters. Sebastian follows suit, tugging off his boots and socks before sitting down next to her, making sure there's a comfortable distance between them.

Before he can find the courage, Sloane breaks the more than awkward silence, "what do you want to talk about?"

It's an innocent enough question, one that puts control of the conversation in his hands. Sebastian could easily take the cowardly route and skip past an apology, force some laughter and pretend nothing is wrong. Instead, he digs deep and swallows his pride.

"I really am sorry, Sloane," he starts, finding it nearly impossible to look at her directly when it feels like his heart might burst out from his chest. All the regret he's been carrying rises to the surface. "I've had so many chances to make things right between us and I've mucked them up over and over again that I honestly can't fathom why you give me any of your time at all."

"You are..." he trails off in hesitation, remembering that a little bit of vulnerability can go a long way. "You are one of the better aspects of my life. One of the kindest, if not the kindest person I know. And...while we haven't been friends for very long, I'm bloody well terrified of losing you over my own stupidity."

Sloane flashes him a curious look. "Losing me?"

"You know what I mean," he quickly replies, even if he is still figuring it out himself. Or maybe he is too scared to admit the truth. The last thing he wants to do is push his luck when it has already run dry. They are friends—it is selfish to hope for more. The uncomfortable tightness in his throat returns. "Am I...too late?"

For a moment that feels like eternity to a fragile boy like him, Sloane doesn't respond, her gaze focused on the water and the reflection of the moon. Her pensive expression is impossible to read, but he takes it as a good sign that she hasn't run off or shoved him into the lake for the squid to drown. She sighs and slowly turns her head to look at him again.

"You're here now is what matters," she says, lips twitching up into the faintest smile. Sebastian should feel relieved, but the guilt lingers. Perhaps in an effort to change the subject, Sloane gestures to the small box, partially crumpled by his anxious fidgeting. "Is that...?"

"Oh! Right," he hesitantly hands it over, watching as Sloane lifts the lid to reveal several squished lemon tarts. He rubs the back of his neck as he lets out a self-deprecating laugh in an attempt to save face. "They're meant to look like that. It's an after-hours kitchen specialty, I'm told."

Sloane's smile widens slightly as she plucks one from the box, generously handing it to him before taking one for herself. Emboldened, Sebastian quickly conjures a small candle to press into her share and carefully ignites the wick.

"I already made a wish," she explains.

Sebastian isn't discouraged. "Well, now you can make a second one. Happy birthday, Sloane."

He continues to watch her as she momentarily ponders, the flickering flame reflected in her eyes before she softly extinguishes it with a soft breath.

"What did you wish for?"

"The first or second time?" Sloane responds, somewhat cheekily.

Sebastian doesn't push her to offer a real answer and instead allows for a comfortable silence to settle between them as they nibble at the lemony treats. The lake water gently splashes at their hanging feet and for the first time in recent memory, he feels calm. It might be temporary, but he allows himself to sink into the feeling, smiling as Sloane offers him a second tart.

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

He turns his head just in time, barely registering what is happening as Sloane moves closer with her head tilted just so. Her lips meet his and Sebastian is stunned, taking several rapid heartbeats to react, fluttering his eyes shut as he leans into the kiss. If he knew that her lips would be this soft and warm, he would've kissed her ages ago. As greedy as he is to taste more, he allows the kiss to remain chaste, inching his hand across the short distance to cover hers.

Sloane eventually pulls away and when he peeks open his eyes she is smiling, cheeks dusted with a blush he yearns to brighten. Sebastian is still too flabbergasted to utter a response, nervously laughing when she reaches up to brush away a crumb from his cheek. He catches her hand before she can pull away, squeezing her fingers in his own. The momentary calm of his heart explodes into a burning inferno he struggles to contain. This time, he is sure he knows the answer, but still asks.

"Your wish?"

"It already came true."

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 2 - Cultivating a curious mind

You know what? I blame @dragonnarrative-writes for all of this. It's all their fault for poking this part of my brain in the first place even though I was originally just trying to poke theirs ><

There were only so many places you'd been allowed to go growing up even with a chaperone at your side. Mother brought you up the way any well respected young lady should be, and to be honest you felt much more at home in your skirts and dresses working on your drawings in the parlor than you did climbing over the fence in your backyard like your cousin convinced you to. But your father worried Kyle was improperly rubbing off on you and wanted to find you something to fill your head with where you could still be kept an eye on.

His solution: the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo.

After all, how much trouble could you get into reading about dead guys? At least they wouldn't be trying to chase your skirts as you got older.

Father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. He knew the people who were in charge of the facilities and thought this could be a replacement for the adventures your cousin liked to try to drag you on.

The beautifully painted sarcophagi drew in your imagination like a moth to a flame, chiseled sculptures and pillars depicting ancient beings far different than the god you'd been brought up believing in. And weren't you just the most well behaved little girl when your father brought you along on his business trips. All he had to do was put a book in your hand about the Old Kingdom and you'd stay seated right where he left you until it was time to leave. The drawings in your room turned less from pretty landscapes and fresh vases to imitations of the reliefs you'd seen from photographs of burial chamber walls. Your mother was slightly alarmed at first, but once she saw you still happily keeping up with your piano lessons and needlework she quickly gave in.

Once you were old enough to walk around the city by yourself, you stopped by the museum at least once a week just to spend hours wandering the halls - sometimes more if you noticed a new shipment of wares showing up on your father's ledgers that week slated for delivery. Always so eager to witness the unveiling of new items even if they'd never get put on display. One of the perks of growing up around the loading docks and being a sweet well mannered child to the workers.

You didn't work at the museum with Dr. John Price, but you'd frequented there an awful lot to have come to decent terms with the man. Always gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but boy did he have a mind for antiquities.

He wasn't always the easiest man to deal with; someone who didn't have time for the stupidity that came with being around the uneducated masses during business hours. He'd been working there in some capacity or another since you'd first became a patron, though back in those days he'd been a lot less rigid.

At one point you'd been barred from looking at a book that your father deemed had too much suggestive material in it - it was a tome about Tawaret, goddess of childbirth and fertility - and sent over to your favorite reading chair with something about Pepi II instead. Try as you might you couldn't get into it, mind still lingering on the forbidden subject which was just the latest in your stream of mythology research. You'd been half-heartedly flipping through the pages when a shadow passed you by and casually deposited the desired reading material in your lap, not even bothering to glance your way as he kept moving and turned down another aisle. He was clean shaven back then, but he'd made an impression as a kindred spirit willing to look the other way.

Now almost twenty years later you did your best to stay out of his way and disturb him as little as possible, but every so often you'd be fortunate enough to stumble upon him on a good day where he'd indulge you on certain topics of conversation that flowed smoothly, allowing you to see the lingering passionate twinkle of a younger man hiding behind eyes so full of wisdom and tired experience.

(And if you happened by chance to occassionally pass by a tall, large, tank of a dark robed man waiting patiently for his turn to have an audience with Price on your way out of his office - following you with his deep brown eyes and a cloth cover shrouding the lower half of his face from view - you kept your gaze to the floor and gave him a wide respectful berth, only risking a glance back at the individual long enough to see the broad planes of his back disappearing behind Price's door with a click of the lock)

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[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[shadowdaddies]

The Protector

for @nestaarcheronweek day four: “Lover.” While I may officially ship Nessian, I love Gwyn and Nesta’s relationship in the books - how protective Nesta is of Gwyn, how understanding Gwyn is of Nesta - so I wanted to write something for the two of them as mates.🩶

Silver slippers tapped lightly against the wooden floors as Nesta wove through the endless shelves of the House of Wind’s library. 

Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, the Valkyrie bit back her smile at the sound of her mate’s soft singing that echoed through rows of literature, a siren’s song beckoning her nearer.

Heart leaping in her chest at the scent of lilies and fresh spring water, Nesta poked her head around the shelf to see Gwyn struggling under a pile of books. Her eyes were tired, the usually striking teal dulled with exhaustion as her arms strained with the load.

A protective instinct immediately took over Nesta’s senses as she rushed forward to take the load from Gwyn’s hands. The priestess offered a weak smile, shoulders slumped as she exhaled a quiet thank you.

Nesta could feel the wariness, the frustration her mate was feeling through the bond. Hands clenched the stack of books, knuckles white before taking a calming exhale and finding a pedestal to leave the books on. 

Gwyn’s eyes widened at the tomes’ misplacement, ready to argue as she moved towards them, but Nesta’s hand caught her arm. Silver eyes locked with teal, seeking each other for words unspoken before Nesta pulled Gwyn into a hug.

Delicate arms wound around her waist, Nesta’s fingers threading through Gwyn’s soft red hair, eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the feeling of her mate in her arms. 

“You need a break, Gwyn,” Nesta murmured, turning her face to press a soft kiss against a freckled cheek. 

Gwyn sniffled, chest puffing out as though the frustration was about to physically break from her. “But Merrill told me-“

“I’ve spoken to Merrill,” Nesta interrupted, prompting Gwyn to pull away slightly, brow arched in silent question. A wicked gleam shone in Nesta’s eyes, lips curving into a wolfish grin. 

“We have come to an agreement that you will be given more hours off each week, starting now. You are mine for the evening,” she purred, flashing a mischievous smile that melted Gwyn’s stiff muscles, body relaxing for the first time in too long.

“We have the day to ourselves?” Gwyn asked, sending a spark of pleasure through Nesta as her eyes turned bright and hopeful once more. 

Nodding, Nesta ran her hands down Gwyn’s sides, thumbs rubbing her hips gently as she watched in admiration. “I thought that for once, you could take a break from caring for others, and let me care for you. I have an evening planned for us, if you are up for it.”

Relief washed over Nesta as her mate smiled, practically bouncing on her heels. Nesta felt the tug on her own hair, woven through her coronet braid, as she was pulled in for a slow, passionate kiss. “What did you have in mind?” Gwyn breathed, cheeks flushed when she pulled away.

“I thought...” Nesta purred, winding an arm around Gwyn’s waist to lead her back through the rows of books towards the door, “that we could take the pegasus, visit that pool with the spring you like. I packed a picnic for dinner, as well.”

Gwyn’s eyes welled with tears, her body curling closer into Nesta’s as her arms wound around her mate’s waist. “You did all of this for me?”

Nesta laughed softly, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the question. She stopped Gwyn in the hallway for a moment, eyes alight with passion as she swiped a stray tear from the priestess’s cheek. 

“You have made me not only happier than I have ever been, but the best version of myself. You deserve all of this, and so much more, Gwyn. You have been there for me in my darkest times. Let me be here for you.”

Gwyn’s face broke out into a blinding smile, joy emanating from both Valkyries when she whispered a soft, “I love you,” pressing a chaste kiss to Nesta’s lips before pulling her out towards where the pegasus was kept.

“I love you too. Always,” Nesta smiled back, strapping the picnic basket to the back of the saddle. “Let’s go.”

[datubooty]

Day 4: Found

for @camilamamaweek 2024

“I found this at the bookstore the other day and got it for you. I know we don’t really know when your birthday is, so maybe think of it more as a belated job-starting gift?”

Camila offers Hunter a small package with pointy corners, definitely a book by the dimensions and heft. He accepts it first with a hug.

“Mom, you didn’t have to do this.” His face wrinkles with emotion, touched that she did. Every gift-giving between them goes this way, especially if it’s spontaneous.

“Mm, but I did! Go on, open it. I think you’ll like it.”

Hunter carefully unsticks the bow and untapes one end of the off-season wrapping paper. Christmas in July is real and Hunter celebrates with the neatest gift extraction the Noceda family has ever seen. The book slides right out.

“Whoa.” He reads the chunky title on the spine. “The Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Eastern North America.”

“That’s a, uh, red-chested nosebeak!” Camila declares with incomplete confidence as she points to the bird depicted mid-chirp on the cover. “Or something like that.”

Hunter gives the compact volume a thumb-through. Pages of winged things he doesn’t have precise names for whiz by, from shorebirds to sparrows. The book is new, but quickly settles open in small surrender in his hand. He’s read enough stiff tomes to recognize someone had kept it positioned like that for a long time. 

Camila gasps first, guilt in her eyes. The illustration of red plumage leaps from the page like a warning flare. Hunter knows what he’s going to see. It’s written above the image like an epitaph:

Northern Cardinal Cardinalis cardinalis

He looks at Camila and takes a breath. She does too. They breathe out in slow unison.

“Look, Hunter, I—” she starts but can’t continue.

“It’s okay, mom,” he says and she believes him. “I would have looked for him too. He was a bird after all.”

“He was. Yeah.” Camila nods, recovering, relieved that she wasn’t alone in her thinking or shamed for her thought.

“Yeah.” Hunter forces too much of a laugh, but there’s no pain knit tight within it anymore.

“So.” Camila moves on from her light misstep. That’s all it was. “I know these are creatures from the human realm, but I’m not doing this to say you should visit more, though you know I wouldn’t say no to that. I just thought, this feels right for Hunter to have.”

“It’s perfect. You know why? So many palismen are human realm creatures. This is a book full of so many people’s future best friends, just like I’m gonna make with Dell. I didn’t know it, but this is just what I wanted!”

He holds the book to his chest, the bird on the cover to his heart.

Camila tries not to cry as she gives him another hug. This is just what she wanted, too.

---

This came to me late last night and I had to write it out. What a great time when the fixations align!

The bird on the cover of the referenced Sibley book is a rose-breasted grosbeak, which is also in the cardinal family. I thought it might be fun for Camila to know the name in Spanish but not English, as they do winter in DR and the Caribbean broadly, but picogrueso pechirrosado is too clearly calque-able and lacks that comedic no sé qué.

[ribbonsaikeaux]

A High Cost

Page wasnt a bad doll. Oh no, she was quite good at serving her Miss. Taking great care in each task, completing it perfectly. Its only (big) issue was ignoring its tasks to write. You see, Page absolutely adored writing. Creating new worlds and beings through its words. It made that one feel powerful. It was always eager to share its stories with its fellow dolls and its Witch.

For the most part, the Witch enjoyed Pages passion and found its writings a delightful diversion. However, she did often have to chastise it for shirking its duties in favor of putting quill to patchment. Truth be told, it was getting more irksome as time went on, but the Witch knew Page to be a capable doll and let it go about its writing as a reward.

That is, until one day Page was given a most important task. You see, the Witch was working on a potion. A very volitile potion. A potion which, if not watched carefully in the brewing process, would have catostrophic consquences. Being the most well learned of her dolls, the Witch entrusted Page to watch the process to make sure nothing went wrong and the concoction remained stable while she went out for a moment to run some errands.

Page dutifully accepted this responsibility and was on its way down to the brewing room as the Witch left. However, inspiration struck it just as it was about to open the downstairs door. It just had to write this down this instant! That ones mind raced with descriptions and story; its quill furiously quivering in its hand.

Its thoughts were interuprted by a house shaking boom. The dolls eyes widened in fear and realization.

"No no nononono" it kept repeating as it ran down the stairs. The room was destroyed, bricks falling from the wall, centries old volumes scorched to naught but ash. The smell of burning wood from the still burning bookcase reaching its nose.

"Oh no oh no oh no. This is-" Page stopped mid sentence. Amongst the rubble there laid a doll. Twisted and mangled. One arm missing, the other shattered, its legs bent and cracked. Its face a spider web of fractures. Its gears werent moving.

"L-lace?" Page gasped, its hand over its mouth, running to the broken dolls side, trying its best to frantically clear the rubble. "Lace! Oh no its so sorry! Nonono please no! Lace! Answer me!" It shouted, a hand on Laces face, fragments of its porcelaine falling from its face.

Page sobbed, tears flowing like a river down its face, backing away and curling up in the corner, knees to its chest. Just then, the Witch came down the stairs. "What the he-" she stopped, dumbstruck. Eyes darting over the scene. Her equipment destroyed, irreplaceable tomes burning, and a shattered doll sprawled on the floor. Her face briefly took an expression of sorrow before her eyes settled on Page. At that moment her look twisted to pure rage. In a flash, she was in front of the sobbing doll, lifting it up by its neck and screaming

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?"

"Its so sorry Miss! It didnt- it shouldve-" the doll choked out through sobs.

"YOU WERE WRITING WERENT YOU?! WERENT YOU?!" The Witch shrieked, shaking the doll with every other word.

Bawling and ashamed, all it could do was nod. The Witch howled in rage and tossed the doll across the room and into the opposite wall.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE RAT! I indulged you. For HOW LONG DID I INDULGE YOU?! Look at this mess! Look at what youve done! Centuries of studies DESTROYED! I now need all new equipment! On to top it off LACE IS FUCKING BEYOND REPAIR!" The Witch stormed up to the doll, fury engulfing her eyes.

"MissitssosorryMissitdidntmean-"

"I DONT GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU MEANT!" The Witch took a deep breath, steadying her voice, though it still seethed with rage.

"I do not want to lose two dolls today," she started through clenched teeth "so I will not destroy you." Page looks momentarily relieved. "HOWEVER, much as it pains me to do so, I will be taking your passion." She says grimly.

Pages eyes widen in terror. "N-n-no Miss please-"

"YOU DO NOT GET A SAY! YOU DO NOT GET TO BEG! THIS IS YOUR ATONEMENT FOR YOUR CARELESSNESS!"

The doll glanced quickly over at Laces shattered body and nodded, whimpering in resignation.

The Witch places her hand on the dolls head, a searing white light shining from it. Page screamed in pain as the knowledge of reading and writing were literally burned from her mind. The witch, shedding only a single tear at what she'd just destroyed turned away, still shaking in rage.

"Now clean up this mess and salvage what you can." She said before storming up the stairs, not giving the doll a chance to respond.

Page continued sobbing, its whole body shuddering as it stood, legs weak, head hurting. It started cleaning, sweeping and moving rubble as best it could. It happened upon a book that had not been completely destroyed, half of the title remaining on the cover. That one tried to read it, the symbols now foreign to its mind, it simply looked like gibberish. The doll sobbed with renewed anguish, continuing to clean.

[suckerforcate]

Hello! I love your so writing so much!

Can you please do a student reader x Larissa? It doesn't have to be romantic but reader have those tiny crush on our principal (At least one student have a crush on Larissa I refuse to believe there's none ���)

A student reader who purposely misbehaves just to be in the office and Larissa knows about it but would let them talk and have casual talk and even teasing about their little crush! Just pure fluff! Thanks!

Crush

Pairing: Larissa Weems x student!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 838

Warning: none (?)

A/n: I loved writing this!! It's really sweet, hope you like it! <3

Your principle had literally been your gay awakening. But who could blame you? She was a tall, goddess woman. It was just natural to have a crush on her.

Additionally, you just really liked spending time with her, she was an amazing talking partner and really intelligent, she just gave the beat advice (and the best hugs).

It occurred to you that it be easiest to spend time with her, if you started being about little troublemaker. So you did, often missing periods or doing little pranks. Your grades didn't get worse, of course not, you still studied. And, just how you had predicted it, you were called to her office every time.

Larissa on the other hand, didn't miss your little crush on her. It was so darn obvious, it nearly hurt. You didn't even try to hide it. The situation wasn't easy for her, she didn't want to get your hopes up, but if you continued this behaviour she needed to call you to her office. It was her responsibility.

So she decided to talk to you about it, she was well aware that a conversation like that was probably highly embarrassing for the student, even though she had never needed to have such a conversation before. There was a first time for everything, right?

She didn't have to wait very long, until you entered her office again. This time, you had missed nearly the whole day. Only having went to botanic classes, because that was your favourite.

You entered, a happy smile already on your lips.

"Sit down, (Y/n). I believe, we have to talk." She was unusually serious, her face not giving away anything. Normally you could read her like a book, all of the spent time together had taught you that.

You sat down, a little nervous now. The smile having slipped your face.

"I know, that we can not choose who we fall in love with or even who we have a crush on, so I'm not mad. And I am flattered, even though I don't quite understand why you'd have a crush on me..." you interrupted her.

"Why not? You're simply amazing." You knew she didn't believe you, as said, you could easily read her.

"Well, thank you. But what I wanted to say, is that I hope you know and understand, that this can not work. A relationship is unimaginable and absolutely inappropriate. I'm sorry." You were fast to clarify, eyes never leaving hers.

"Oh, I know. And I never imagined, there would happen anything. I'm okay with that. I simply want to spend some time with you, talk, laugh, you know? I'm quite happy, whenever I'm around you." You could see Larissa relax, relieved that you were so reasonable. She shot you a gentle smile.

After that, it was much easier. You didn't have to make problems to see her, you were welcome to spend tome with her any time. It made you so happy, because you felt that you did form a kind of friendship.

You were totally comfortable in the friendship and Principle Weems even teased you about your crush from time to time.

She knew how flustered you could get, when she towered over you, so she made sure to do exactly that if she saw you in the hall.

---------

"How is my favourite student doing?" You had to look up to see her smirk, very well knowing what she was doing. Your cheeks turned red in seconds, and you playfully slapped her arm.

"Stop that, you know what that does to me." She laughed.

"Do I?" She asked innocently and left you standing there, a blushing mess.

--------

In return, you made sure to, respectfully, show her why you would have a crush on her. You often complimented her, got her flowers on her birthday and showed real interest in her life and what she told you.

Nothing ever happened between the two of you, but a beautiful friendship had blossomed. Possibly one for life.

----------

A funny extra that I thought of:

You had long left school and still maintained the friendship with Larissa. You had visited her and sat in her office catching up on the newest things.

"You know, that you were my absolute gay awakening?" Larissa nearly choked on her wine.

"I'm sorry, what?" You just had to laugh, she looked incredibly funny like this. Shocked and still coughing over the wine.

"Well you know that I had a crush on you. And you were kind of my first girl crush, I saw you, and I was like: damn. You're tall and hot. Still are. That made me seriously question things." You looked at Larissa, she had a lopsided grin on her face.

"What?" You asked, already giggling. At that she couldn't hold it in anymore, she burst our laughing. So did you. It was a mess, anytime you looked at each other, you just laughed more.

Neither if you were of any use for the rest of the evening.

[enby-crisis]

Status Ominis Gaunt x M! Reader

Summary: Sebastian figures out your gay. Chaos ensues. Felling are felt. The works.

Word Count: 1293

Warnings: Sebastian outs you, implied homophobia maybe? Also mlm kiss.

Ever since you started at Hogwarts, a lot of rumors spread about you. You got a lot of attention from your classmates, but even more from your housemates. It only took a few months for you to fall in routine with two other Slytherin boys. The three of you would cause all sorts of chaos together.

At first Sebastian didn't fully understand you. You would drop everything to help him with his quest to save his sister, you learned braille to write letters to Ominis and, no matter who asked you, you never played into the interests of any of the girls. 

You were friendly with them but when you rejected Poppy's advances for a date, everyone suddenly understood a part of you that you were trying to hide. You knew that two people knew for sure. Poppy and Imelda.

Poppy though you didn't think she was good enough for you and spent three days ignoring you, so to save your friendship, you came out to her. Imelda just so happened to be there but both of them promised not to tell anyone.

Sebastian on the other hand, had grown suspicious of the way you acted, especially the way you acted around Ominis.

You were a completely different person. You were shy. He had never taken you as the shy type but when you told Ominis that you learned braille, it seemed to put that missing piece into place.

Sebastian sat in an armchair across from you two, pretending to read the book you picked up in the Scriptorium a few weeks back. The two of you sat on the couch near the fireplace. Sebastian was amused at the warm tint on Ominis' face, his eyes focused on his text book.

"What book is that?" You ask, reaching out to touch the cover without permission.

Ominis stiffens at the pressure on the book. Sebastian knew you were practicing braille, he was with you when you bought out most of the books on it.

"Oh." You smile. "It's your potions textbook. Sorry." You blush, clearly embarrassed, and withdrawal your hand to scratch the back of your neck.

"You- you can read braille?" Ominis turns to you, pale face, dusted in rose. Sebastian puts his book down to look at the two of you with a curious glint. Watching.

You give a nervous chuckle, "Yeah I've been practicing on my free time. Sebastian has been helping me out. I'm not that good yet." 

Your normally confident and impulsive persona is swapped out for a bashful grin. Clearly you were going to wait to tell Ominis that you spent what little free time you had to learn something that in no way benefited you.

"He bought out all the books at Tomes and Scrolls when we were in town a few weeks ago. I practice with him when I have time. No surprise (Y/n) is quick to catch on. Makes me wonder if he was put in the right house Ominis." Sebastian butts in, earning a glare from his seeing friend, nonetheless he shrugs it off. 

After following the direction of the voices, Ominis directs his attention to you, "So you are learning braille for me?" 

The blush on both boy's face makes Sebastian chuckle. Sometimes his best friends acted so strange around each other. 

"Y-yes. Yeah I did. I can't fathom why though." You admit.

A though occurs to Sebastian and without being able to stop himself, he speaks his thoughts out loud. "Maybe you have a crush on him."

Sebastian's eyes widen, realizing what he just said and the look you give him only confirms it.

"(Y/n)?" Ominis says, but its too late. 

Embarrassed, you rush out of the common room, without another word.

After that, Sebastian accidentally caused a rift between you two. He felt bad outing you. You could have handled it if Sebastian outed you to anyone else but he outed you to Ominis, who you did, in fact, have feelings for.

You knew it would never happen between you and Ominis. He was a pureblood, a direct decadent to Salthazar Slytherin himself. He was to marry another pureblood and have a bunch of pureblood babies. A life you couldn't have. There was no way you would be able to settle down and marry a nice girl, give her a family. It would drive you mad.

You were so lost in the scenario in your head you crashed into someone in the halls before you could turn the corner to DADA.

"Sorry I was-"

"Do you mind-" Imelda started, pausing to look at you. "(Y/n)? Are you okay? You look like your sick."

"I-" You were going to tell her you were fine but the two hushed voices hidden around the corner made you stop.

"Why don't you just tell him? I'm sure (Y/n) would understand." Sebastian said, midway through a conversation with Ominis. About you...

"Because he didn't say he was-" Ominis catches himself and leans in to whisper to Sebastian, "He never said he was into men. Maybe he was insulted by the notion you though he was!"

You look at Imelda, who stares at you wide-eyed. She didn't need to ask what this was about now.

"What happened?" She mothed. You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself. You shrug and shoo her away.

"Okay but if you told him how you felt then the two of you could stop acting as if the other doesn't exist."

"Why? So my parents could find out about this from Professor Black?" Ominis seemed angered by this.

"Ominis..." Sebastian starts.

You walk around the corner, revealing yourself to them. Sebastian's whole demeaner changes.

"(Y/n)! Hey! Are you done avoiding us like the plague?" 

Ominis spins on his heals, facing you, and wiping the initial shock off his face. "(Y/n) what a pleasant surprise."

"Can I talk to you guys. Alone." 

The duo nod and lead you to the Undercroft. The two of them stand next to each other, Sebastian glancing between you and Ominis. You start to pace, unsure of how to start this conversation.

"I'd like to say that I'm sorry for avoiding you. That wasn't fair for either of you."

"It's fine, really." Sebastian says crossing his arms.

"Can you not interrupt me?" You stop pacing to turn on him. He holds his hands up in surrender and you continue, "Thank you. First this can not leave this room. If people knew-" Your chest tightens, "I don't know what I would do." You take a breath, trying to battle your anxiety with a hand over your chest, gripping at the lapels of your uniform, "I am... homosexual."

"Told you." Sebastian nudges Ominis, who blushes.

"And I do have a crush on you." You look at Ominis as he take in the confession. "But I have lived my whole life being okay with being alone. So don't feel like this changes anything. I can't loose you because of this too."

You stop, looking between your best friends. Ominis processing this and Sebastian has never looked more smug. Like he knows something you don't. He did.

"I-I like you too actually." Ominis stuttered out. "but this cannot get out. If my parents-" "I get it." You sigh, "If they knew you liked boys it would ruin you." 

You look down at your feet, trying to hide the disappointment from Sebastian. Ominis couldn't see your face but Sebastian knew it would break his best friends heart.

The silence that follows makes Ominis walk up to you. You don't bother to meet his blank eyes, assuming it would be easier to not watch your crush leave. Instead Ominis surprises everyone in the room when he gently finds your cheek, causing you to meet his cloudy stare.

"It's not you. I don't care that you're gay. It's your blood status. If my father finds out I'm dating a half blood he'll surly kill us both."

"So we're dating?" You blush.

In response Ominis kisses you.

Pt 2?

[desultory-novice]

A comment on my First Sentences post reminded that I really don’t write much or any Kirby fanfic, even though I enjoy writing non-script format stuff just fine. My other Sectonia + Taranza piece was lost along with several other Kirby works but, to my relief, I still had this little thing I’d been working on. So I finished it up to share!

-

Title: "Queen's Tear" Characters: Joronia (Queen Sectonia) and Taranza Genre: Gen, Character Study Rating: G Word Count: 990 words

-

Pitter patter. Pitter patter. 

Above, water pelted the earth, creating tremors so small the majority of creatures had no way of knowing they were occurring at all.

Not to Joronia though. It must be said, bored as she was, she was certain she could hear each individual grain of dust settling on the floor. It was another day of study. Another massive pile of old books to go through that almost certainly needed updating - some of them still spoke of the existence of other dimensions as if they were a theory, not proven fact!

The books also desperately needed to be moved out to a place with more sunlight before they became collections of mold, not paper. Alas, the damp texts smelled even worse in the rain.

There was no fencing practice in the rain.

"The rain is bad for your health, your majesty!" Joronia found herself repeating in a droning tone. Training was training. None of it was ever that fun, but she enjoyed the chance to get out and move her body. 

And besting her teacher as the old arachnid fumbled to say, "...it wouldn't have been so easy were I a few centuries younger!" That was a delight.

They wanted her to be the strongest, wisest queen their small nation had ever seen. Desires that had been hammered into her since the moment was was born. But to Joronia, it wasn't just a birthright. She would be that. She would be all that her people wished for and more. Much, much more...

But first, she ought to get at least partway through one of these dusty old tomes. Suddenly, her anterior eyes spotted a faint sparkle on the earthen floor, almost like that of a dewdrop.

She got up.

It was a dewdrop. It hadn't come leaking through the web-glass windows overhead, which kept the room lit with natural lighting and utterly dry, thanks to magic (though not moisture-free.)

No, her watery "jewel" was attached to a thread, which began to move to and fro like a cat-tease, tugging the raindrop toward the hallway just as she moved to get a closer look.

As soon as she had turned the corner, a shadow descended from the ceiling to greet her.

"Taranza!" She shouted in surprise.

"Shh!" The young spider made a hushing gesture. "You're supposed to be studying, and I'm supposed to be," Taranza affected the all-too recognizable mannerisms of her teacher as he proclaimed in a gruff, haughty voice, "...encouraging her majesty to do so. Quietly. And from a great distance."

"Did you go outside in the rain?"

He nodded proudly, then hurried to add, "Oh, but don't worry about me. My webs kept me dry the whole time!"

She laughed. "Why would I be worried about that, silly? If my future court magician was foolish enough to let himself get rained on, I'd have to ask for an immediate replacement!"

"A-a...replacement for me, Joronia?" Taranza flustered, his hands knitting and unknitting themselves, his many eyes swimming nervously about. Joronia tittered to watch. Oh, how she enjoyed to tease him.

"You wouldn't really, would you...?" He asked at last.

"No, of course not, silly!" She stilled his hands by taking them in her own. "Who else would I want at my side when I rule but you? No one could ever replace you, Taranza."

"Oh!" His gaping mouth slowly formed into a smile. "...Oh, good! And before I forget, the reason I went out in the first place!"

He turned around and made a series of motions, violet light arcing off his hands. "I brought you back something. A gift!"

The sphere floated in, wrapped in that same purple light. He moved it before her. As she touched it, the sphere opened up to reveal a beautiful flower, soil and roots secured in a web ball.

"It's called a 'Queen's Tear.'" Taranza said of the dewy pink and yellow blossom. "It only blooms in the rain. That’s why I went out, you see! To get it for you!"

"It's beautiful..." Joronia took the precious gift in her lower hands. "But why does it have such a sad name?"

"A...sad name...?" Taranza blinked with all his eyes.

Sectonia brushed at a drop clinging to one of the petals. It had an almost translucent sheen. "If it's called a 'Queen's Tear' then it means somewhere, a queen must have been crying..."

"Ah!" Taranza's hands fluttered like butterflies scattering. "S-she might have been crying out of happiness! That must be it! Or, no! Perhaps the queen was..." Taranza continued to prattle on, but Joronia found herself tuning him out.

She turned the flower around in her hands, entranced by the way the captive droplets made the blossom's silky petals shine all the more as the water slowly slid down to join the glistening, mirror-like pool at its center.

Suddenly, her study of the blossom and Taranza's nervous rambling was interrupted by an awful sound: "Ahh..."

"...Aaah..."

"...ACHOO!"

"Eugh! Taranza...!" Joronia chided him, barely covering her face and the flower in time to protect it from Taranza's earth-shaking sneeze. 

"You SAID you kept dry!"

"Ah...I did..." He spun away from her, pulling out a handkerchief. "But...it was VERY damp out there. You're not upset at me, are you?" His anterior eyes drooped low with shame.

"No, I am not." And that much was true. "But you must warm yourself up or the ministers will know what you've done and we’ll BOTH be in trouble! Now shoo!"

He turned back around, nodding. "O-okay."

Taranza lingered for a second more before Joronia waved him off with a hand. Only when he had started to leave did she say to him, "Thank you for this gift, Taranza."

He eyes smiled, "...You're welcome... Joronia."

When she was sure he was out of both sight and hearing, Joronia returned to the sight of the beautiful blossom once more.

"...And I promise you, I shall be a queen who never cries."

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Happy middle-of-the-week, everyone! I hope the writing's been good. I finished two whole fics this week. (Small, but still good.) Started on another, while getting about idk 1/3 of the way through chapter 27. That's what I'm going to share today! But first, tagging the most esteemed: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn (I have to know what's next lol), @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @saltymaplesyrup and @archangelsunited -- If you aren't tagged, consider yourself tagged, and tag me back so I can see what you've got! Without further ado, here's a section of chaos from chapter 27 of The World on Our Shoulders.

Teldryn sat on the edge of Neloth’s bed, cradling a mug of canis root tea. His skin still stung from the constant prodding and scraping to check for any remnants of the blasted Stalhrim. He was still anxious, if he was being honest. It made it hard to stay asleep. Tel Mithryn was almost unnaturally quiet, except for the low hum of the Levitation Runes and the rapid flipping of pages. At the moment, Neloth was poring over a collection of tomes while everyone else was sleeping. It couldn’t be long before dawn now. The perfect hour, really, for negative thoughts to swirl around unmitigated. He sighed and sipped his tea.

To make things worse, Nyenna still hadn’t been able to maintain consciousness for long, despite all Neloth was doing to help her. He’d theorized something about swelling in her brain combined with a disruption of the flow of Magicka through her body. It was as if the rebounded Shout had somehow broken her mind in more ways than one. The implications of that alone had him thanking Azura he’d even survived the Shout he’d gotten caught up in during that first fight by her side. He’d already decided he’d never underestimate her again, but now… Was it a death wish to stand so close to such power? Did that matter, in the end? He looked down at Nyenna now, sleeping peacefully, hair a tangled mess against the pillow, stress gone from her brow. It didn’t matter, come to think of it. It wouldn’t be right to leave and let her figure this all out on her own. She was a risk, but one he’d probably stick by until time itself came unraveled, Gods willing. He stopped mid-sip at the realization. Best if he didn’t exactly say that aloud, all things considered.

Neloth sighed heavily at his desk and swore in Dunmeris, his tone more exasperated despite keeping relatively quiet. Teldryn wasn’t sure how much of a healer he really was; even though he’d done incredible work after the Red Year, his personality sort of conflicted with the basic tenants of Restoration magic. To his credit, he did at least seem rather concerned and had even set aside the Stalhrim to study Nyenna’s condition. He’d even forced Talvas, his assistant, to drop all his projects and papers to help. The boy was passed out on his own desk in the other part of the room, exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up to him. Varlais, too, had tried to help but ended up in more of a glorified servant’s role. He wasn’t really the thinking type, as Neloth had frustratingly come to find out. Teldryn had, of course, already known.

Teldryn did the best he could with his own Healing and Calm spells. He’d offered to go get Aphia from Raven Rock, but Neloth insisted he knew more than any other Mer in a thousand-mile radius. While that was likely true, there really was no downside to having an extra pair of hands. It was just as well…the debt he’d racked up with the grand soul gems wasted on Teleportation spells outshone his earnings from the last half-year at this point. He likely wouldn’t have to pay it back, except in insults and reminders of how heroic Neloth had acted. This would go on for the rest of existence, an inside joke turned into exhaustion in no time at all. But that was just how the old wizard had always been. And to be fair, he’d pay that cost again and again if it meant helping anyone after what they’d all been through, Nyenna especially so.

To Neloth’s other point, Nyenna’s Magicka was not loud now, not like it usually was. It hadn’t been for a few days, though whatever the affliction, it was at least healing. There was a huge difference from when he’d dragged her out of the Atronach’s lair. Then, it had been almost non-existent, barely registering at all.  She was so pale. She seemed so fragile. She’d been speaking in frantic Dovahzul, almost as if possessed. And her eyes… Gods, but�� It was too difficult to recall that particular memory. He swallowed hard against the fresh wave of horror. He’d been terrified. He’d lived long enough now that few things were capable of even surprising him — but this whole situation had been almost too much. Not quite as bad as Red Mountain, despite the similar wrongness in the warp and weft of the place he’d felt, and the way their feet all had been moving of their own accord toward the danger. But it had been close. Living in the aftermath of that fight left him feeling somewhat hollow where fear had burned everything else away.

Unnerved, Teldryn sipped his tea and looked at her as she slept. It’d been a whole day since the last nightmare, so this peace was progress. As he’d done a hundred times in the last span of days, he reached out and brushed some of her curls out of her eyes. That power of hers was still there, like a shock under her skin, though dulled. He had hope, though, despite everything. Even in the void left behind by all the recent chaos, she gave him hope. He didn’t quite know how to tell her that without breaking unspoken rules.

[thephantomcasebook]

i feel so lucky that tonight i discovered your tumblr page by chance as i myself huge huge huge fan of asoiaf and fire&blood fan and they are powerful distraction from my upsetting daily routine i need to get through. Therefore, i spend everyday daydreaming thinking brainstorming lots of things

my recent question mark in my head is about Jahaera and aegon the third situation. So in the book it says, jahaera and aegon were very very quiet very reserved and didnt spend any time together since their 2 or 3 year long childmarriage they both endured. And i am also thinking even children werent initiative, but they were also kept apart from each other . As regents and other powerful adults wanted to have more power and bigger chance to getting closer to the crown through marriage. And if jahaera or aegon needs to be chosen to get rid of , that would be jahaera in their eyes as jahaera being declared the heir and sitting on the crown could be a potential for other female heirs being set aside question their rights. Therefore i feel jahaera was chosen for to be killed instead of aegon , just because of the gender not because of whether this is green or black case.

Anyway i should just get to my question , in the book cannon, after jahaera’s suicide(murder), aegon the third reportedly give jahaera’s own doll to myrielle peake(hand of the king’s daughter)

this is sooo weird to me, and i genuinely dont think george martin just put it out that detail for no reason. Apparently in the book myrille played with the doll as if it was a real one so thats a obvious hint to how myrielle and her father the hand of the king wants myrille as queen very much. But what i can not understand is why the hell aegon had jahaera’s doll and gave it to myrille, like why did it have to be jahaera’s own doll

i feel you are so far the best person i ever read about understanding george martin and understanding uncovering things

do you have any insight into this detail in the fire blood book? Why would aegon give jahaera’s doll to myrielle when he could just gift brand new doll to myrielle? Its not like aegon the third would be short of money to buy a simple 1 doll.

and aegon the third and jahaera were said several tomes in the book how they had no contact no closeness nothing between them, they only sat quietly next to each other in formal royal events which was again so rare.

i wonder maybe that was not the case? Maybe they just started to be friends and hand of the king got scared and thats why he insteaf of murdering jahaera later he did it before aegon the third would get attached to her better?

And also what do u think of jahaera and aegon the third pairing in general? I love daenaera so much and i dont think daenaera made aegon feel anything negative but i feel jahaera and aegon could had reached deeper feelings whereas i felt daenara was superficial beautiful positive distraction

Hey, sorry I'm answering so late ... I usually take off from the computer on Friday-Saturday and then come back on Sunday Night - though I'm writing this at 4:30AM on a Monday Morning.

And, I feel you, times are pretty lean around here too on a personal level and as a writer I tend to retreat to fictional worlds - my own or others - to get through the day. Which is why I get sucked into Downton Abbey and HOTD. So, I got you ... you're among friends on that regard.

I'm not sure I've got an inside track to GRRM's thinking, though we tend to be kindered spirits in terms of writing tact and methods. I've just been a fan for a good thirteen years and used to get into the weeds with fan theories and the like.

I'll be honest with you, Aegon III giving away Jaehaera's doll like that really, really - REALLY - bothered me. It's a personal tick of mine, probably because I've always been a pretty poor guy and didn't have a lot of toys - I've learned to be a book and imagination kinda person. So, I get super sentimental about toys - especially dolls. And it twisted me up inside when I read that.

I would be wary of believing "Fire & Blood" because it isn't a reliable source of the actual events - it is written and sourced by many unreliable narrators with their own agendas. So, the idea that Jaehaera and Aegon III had no contact or closeness can't really be taken as fact when, most likely, the conspirators who murdered Jaehaera fucked with the records.

To be honest with you, Jaehaera and her death is another casualty of "Oh shit, this is gonna be part of a TV Show ... let me change this." Because, when I first read "A Song of Ice and FIre" and "Dunk and Egg" Aegon and Jaehaera where the parents of Daeron, Baelor, Daena, and the others. Daeron "The Young Dragon" was literally named after Daeron "The Daring" because he was the uncle of Jaehaera and a hero to the common people of Westeros. It made sense.

Now, I've come back to the fandom a few years to see that GRRM has got a Velaryon hard-on and that he killed off Jaehaera and changed it so that Aegon III ended up marrying his niece or some shit. So now, naming their eldest kid Daeron makes absolutely no sense other than perhaps Aegon III admired Daeron a lot as a kid, despite the fact that Daeron was the biggest reason for Rhaenyra's death.

I'm sad to say that the doll part is something new to me that I, myself, have only read recently and I cannot grasp for the life of me the point of that little detail, beyond, Aegon III was just trying to be nice. Though, I would subscribe to your theory that Aegon and Jaehaera were probably closer than the book lets on, close enough that he would keep her favorite dolly when she was gone and think it important.

I don't know, man ... that whole retcon to the end of the war bothers me a lot. There isn't a point to it other than GRRM trying to shoehorn in the Velaryons wherever he can to make them more important so that people will care about them in the upcoming show.

Also, I still have my first edition " A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" Illustrated hardcover version that still has Jaehaera Targaryen as Daemon Blackfyre's grandmother and Aegon II and Helaena marked as his Great-Grandparents. And the post script that says that Aegon V (Egg) married his older sister, not a Blackwood.

[grimm-rider]

Entry 31

I informed the others about the message I’d received from A’pul’la. We decided, given how spent we were from today’s events, it would be wise to spend some time in the Möbius Chamber. Considering the time difference in the room, Aenland asked me how many uses of Miracle I could use daily—my answer was apparently enough for him, as he decided to go buy some diamonds to expend as spell components, and then asked me to use my power to enhance his abilities. Nestian spent most of his time in the room reading one of those magical tomes we’d picked up to enhance his own abilities, but when he overheard Aenland’s plan he got in on it as well, asking me to help enhance his endurance. So I had my hands full the entire time we were resting. Which was probably for the best—less time to dwell on things with Keisuke, or on what might happen soon, meeting with some mythic powered Pharasman.

Edeya vanished for a few days by our perspective—she’d just popped out for a few minutes to buy something from her point of view. When she came back I gave myself a reprieve from casting for a bit to chat with her. She noted that I looked pensive, so I asked her—given how much thought she’d clearly put into it in recent months—what her thoughts on redemption were. It’s not something I’d ever put much thought into. I don’t normally care for that sort of thing—everyone makes their own choices in the end, for good or for ill. But one thing I’ve come to realize recently is that those choices aren’t made in a vacuum. The people around you—or lack thereof—affect the choices you’ll make. Change the circumstances, and you might completely change the outcome for the same person.

At least…that seems to be how it worked out for me.

Anyways. I asked Edeya for her thoughts on redemption. On what conclusions she’d come to. And, most importantly, whether she thought someone with no memories of what they’d done could actually redeem themselves. For the first part, Edeya said that redemption was hard—especially now—but not impossible. The person just had to sincerely want it and take action towards being better. As for the second part…she said I would know better than she would. She told me the reason I felt so uncomfortable thinking about this is because I was stepping into a philosophical debate, and at the heart of it was: are you the same person if you come back with no memory of your previous self? I told her that I’d always considered myself to be the same person, memories or no. The Grimm Rider is just the choices I made in different circumstances—that’s still me, still someone I was entirely capable of being.

But I think Edeya hit closer to the target than I let on. When I write about my past self, I talk about the Grimm Rider like another person, even though that’s still all me. When I think about the Grimm Rider I can’t help but think of ‘him’ instead of ‘me’. The Grimm Rider is like a story to me, distant, barely real. But that was me, even if I don’t remember it, I did all the things the Grimm Rider did. I would be entirely capable of being him, and had things gone differently I could have been that same person all over again.

I told Edeya that I am simply me, regardless of the circumstances that might change what that means, and I do believe that. She said I had my answer, then. I suppose I do. If I believe that of myself, then that would logically carry to Keisuke as well if I went through with this.

I’m finding fewer and fewer excuses not to go through with this. Part of me desperately wants to find a reason this is the wrong choice. Because then I wouldn’t have to give up the goals I’ve been reaching for from practically the very beginning. Mythic power, immortality. Safety from Pharasma’s grasp. Especially looking that in the face right now, knowing we’re about to be working with a Pharasman who could probably smite me with a thought…my every instinct screams to save myself, Keisuke be damned. And in my position, that’s certainly what he would do. I doubt it would even be a question.

I guess Nestian’s not entirely wrong about our differences.

I’m going to keep just going around in circles if I keep writing about it. I at least have a few more days to consider my options. Maybe more if we keep using Jadrenka’s nifty little time chamber.

Eventually we had to leave the chamber and return to our mission—only a few hours after we’d entered rather than days later. We made a beeline for the royal cemetery, with no Winter Witches or fungal monstrosities stopping us on the way. We should probably do something about Xanthadon sooner rather than later, with that rot encroaching on the city the way it is.

Not today, though.

We made it to the cemetery, where we saw a number of wraiths milling about, and two necromancers guarding the entrance to a grand mausoleum. They looked like chumps, as far as necromancers go, despite their ghostly apparitions.

We were prepared to strike—but someone else got there first. A dark streak fell from the sky like a bolt of dark lightning, landing before one of the wraiths. A scythe glinted in the dim light that shone through the clouds blanketing the sky. But the figure did not bring the blade down on the wraith. A second—much larger—streak fell from the sky, shaking the earth as it landed behind him. As the dust cleared, an enormous skeletal creature towered over the figure. It reached down, striking at the man—who I could now make out was a dusky purple tiefling with raven-like wings—but he barely flinched at the giant claws raking at him. Instead, he leapt into the air, using those wings that were clearly not just for decoration to fly straight up as he dragged the scythe along the creature’s midsection. He flipped in mid-air, then came hurtling back to the ground, before flaring his wings and landing safely.

Showoff.

The hulking creature’s bones crumbled in on themselves from the single slice, as effectively as if I’d used three Boneshatters on it at once.

In the back of my mind, I knew what this thing was, from some reading or encounter I’d had in my past. A tzittzimitl—an unimaginably powerful undead that can change positive energy to negative, shoot powerful eyebeams, and cause freezing eclipses. And this man had destroyed it with a single swing of his scythe.

I was getting another look at what Mythic Power was capable of.

There wasn’t time to gawk, though. Those other necromancers might have been c list at best, but they still had a bunch of wraiths surrounding us, and we had to deal with those to even get close to the crypt.

Even without some sort of mythic psychopomp-tiefling, we would have cleaned up the necromancers and their little spirits in no time. Really, is this the best Elvanna has in terms of necromantic power? Apparently I was the only actual talented magic user she had working for her, and with the Grimm Rider gone she has nothing but these bottom of the barrel flunkies.

Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’d just think the queen of a country could get some better help. Then again, we’ve probably killed most of her ‘better help’, and the rest probably don’t want to work for her because she’s a crazy bitch who’s trying to freeze the world.

All this is to say, we had no issues clearing out the necromancers and their pets. I definitely did not let on that I was, myself, a necromancer in front of the mythic demi-psychopomp who apparently works directly for Atropos. That’s in the strictly ‘need to know’ category, and for once my dear friends did not spill a secret within moments of meeting someone new—as much as I could tell Aenland desperately wanted to.

At the door of the crypt, Nestian resisted the urge to immediately knock at a closed door—only for this bird-man, who’d introduced himself as Corvus, to knock instead.

There was no response, and when Nestian and Corvus pushed the door of the mausoleum open we found the room beyond completely devoid of life. Which, I mean, it’s a crypt so I suppose that should be what one would expect to find. But given our luck usually there’s a monster crawling about, or a Winter Witch ambush, or something.

The others spotted a trap within an alcove with a door beyond it. Aenland shot an arrow into it, using his dispelling power to negate whatever magic was on it. Unfortunately, this seemed to set off some kind of alarm, because we immediately started hearing sounds coming from down below.

Then some woman dressed in strange clothes appeared, using what appeared to be Interplanetary Teleport—except whatever she had just done, it didn’t use magic. Only some sort of technology way beyond the scope of my knowledge.

The woman activated some sort of barrier around Corvus, then she disappeared with her mythic prisoner in tow.

So that was great. We come here to help stop a thing because a plant told us to, and some mythic asshole gets captured by an alien.

Sorry if I don’t sound like I was excited to go save a psychopomp-in-training from certain doom.

We ended up having to fight our way through a handful more enemies who ran up through the door that had been warded—but Talsune had been ready to strike anyone who entered, and between him and Aenland we made quick work of them.

We determined that we should head further into the catacombs. Even if the mythic psychopomp weren’t being held below, the enemies had clearly come up from there. And we still needed to stop the resurrection of a Crone Queen, with or without feather-boy’s help.

Down below we killed a skeletal dragon, then found ourselves in a chamber with a strange machine that was being tended to by more of those half-baked necromancers. And as luck would have it, the would-be psychopomp was hooked into the machine, being used as a power source or something.

We started killing the necromancers—and a ghost ship that had been placed within the underground reservoir of water around the catacombs. Well, I say water. Where the ghost ship touched, the water around it turned into blood. Honestly, pretty cool. If I had a place to keep a giant ship in Grimm Labyrinthus I’d have considered adding it to my collection. But as it was, it would just be a waste of my powers that could go towards more useful pets.

We’d fought through most of the necromancers when there was a horrible sound. It was like the machine was screaming. And then some big construct that had been wired to the machine stood, and the face of a Crone Queen appeared on the screen where its face should be. Not one we’d faced. This was Yelizaveta, who from what I gather had been destroyed some twenty years ago in the Veil of Frozen Tears, the same day Ilivorr had died.

She began attacking us, with a mix of her old Crone Queen magic and her new monstrous metal body.

And about that time, feathers decided to quit napping on the job and broke out of the machine. Not like we needed his help, we pretty much took care of the metal crone queen on our own.

After her destruction, some unusual letters came out of her, and vanished into a hole in the sky. I have…literally no idea what that could be.

Anyways, we parted ways with bird boy without any psychopomp related attempts to kill me, so that’s nice I guess.

Before resting, we decided to go to Baba Yaga and find out what we could about the strange hole in the sky we’d seen.

Baba Yaga was not willing to share that particular secret, but she said she was a fair Kindly Grandmother, so she would answer one other question, no matter what, without any subterfuge.

So we asked her about Tashanna. The queen who is absent, the only one we hadn’t faced as a Crone Queen.

Baba Yaga was extremely displeased that what we’d decided to ask was one of her greatest secrets. But a deal was a deal, and she wasn’t going to back out. So she told us the truth. The truth about Tashanna, and about irrisen as a whole.

Baba Yaga created Irrisen as an experiment. After seeing how things were where she was from, Earth, Russia, she wanted to create an experiment to see what it would take to cause a great rebellion that could topple a cruel and controlling empire. So she carved out a place for herself, killing and banishing the Mammoth Lords and anyone else to stood against her. And then she put her first daughter on the throne, and every hundred years she put a new daughter in the previous one’s place. And they were all icy and harsh rulers, all the better for Baba Yaga’s experiment.

But then there was Tashanna.

All of her other daughters had come quietly when their century of rule was over. They were either too afraid to stand up to her, or too ignorant to realize what Baba Yaga was doing to each queen who vanished into the Hut, never to be seen again.

Tashanna saw what her fate would be, and chose to defy it. She made a deal with a Demon Lord, and had an army of demons and frost giants to back her.

Her rebellion failed. Her entire branch of the bloodline was mercilessly killed by Baba Yaga in the Vale of Frozen Tears. Every follower she had—gone. But Tashanna did not share their fate. No, because Baba Yaga was impressed by what she had done. She had come the closest to making Baba Yaga’s experiment a success. And for that, she was not drained of her life like her sisters. She was left on an alien planet far from Golarian, to live out her life so long as she never returned.

So…that’s that. Irrisen has been nothing but a long game played by an immortal trickster.

I wasn’t terribly surprised myself. Not that I suspected something like this, but simply that it fit Baba Yaga to do so.

Aenland was pissed to learn about it. We talked. He wanted to remove Baba Yaga from power, and put Anastasia on the throne like we did. But he was afraid that if Baba Yaga was allowed to have any influence, she would simply twist Anastasia’s rule and keep her experiment running. But he also did not want to banish her from Irrisen or Golarian, just to have her subjugate some other people on some other world.

I normally wouldn’t care what happens to some other planet we’re never going to even be aware of. But Aenland cares. So I want to find a solution. I suggested he think over using his wish to somehow force Baba Yaga to leave forever, while also keeping her from using her powers to hurt others. I…don’t actually know the best wording for this wish, to make sure things go the way Aenland wants. I don’t think Baba Yaga is going to screw us over with our wishes, but I also could see this getting on her bad side. Still, it’s something for him to consider, especially since he doesn’t believe he needs a weapon from Baba Yaga anymore, and he doesn’t trust her to give him anything else he wants without twisting things.

Anyways, that’s a worry for another day.

We’re resting in the Mobius Chamber now. After, I think Aenland is finally ready for us to go deal with Xanthadon.

[devil-doll13]

My current ideas on the Percy Jackson AU

Inspired by @the-pinstriped-hood and @solmints-messyocdiary’s posts on the matter

Abigail - Daughter of Hecate

Wasn’t born in a graveyard in this AU. Instead, was left at the doorstep of one of her aunts. Her Warlock father, Lucien, was found dead in a cemetery however. It seemed like he was trying to perform some kind of ritual…

Experienced similar isolation from her family members, and one early sign of her Half-blood status was the fact she ended up speaking to dead spirits and ghosts. She also showed a knowledge for things she rather shouldn’t know, such as on poisonous herbs and plants.

Many of her relatives were killed by monsters trying to get to her, but by eleven years old the family ‘curse’ was finally lifted as she was brought to camp Half-Blood.

The powers she inherited from her mother are the standard umbrakinesis and necromancy. Abigail has also taught herself magic by studying and researching various tomes. She is strongest at night and weakest in the day.

Hecate is a tough parent who expects nothing but the best from her. The only reason she had her at all was to rear a powerful sorceress - her love is conditional. Abigail only earns a claiming when she has proved herself with her magic. She did this by slaying the Medusa. She still keeps her head as trophy, and sometimes to scare people bc she’s a fucking menace.

Wields a Stygian Iron sickle which disguises itself as a lipstick or mascara tube.

The only universe in which dogs don’t hate her little guts, since they’re a symbol of her mother.

Max - Son of Hermes

Either the result of an affair or a rebounding of sorts after his father died, now earlier than in canon. He has his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s curly yellow hair.

Max already canonically has ADHD so adding dyslexia to that only makes it even harder for him in regular school. This doesn’t stop him from writing or enjoying tabletop games though. Hermes is the god of many things, including writing and language.

Hermes seems to have a problem with claiming his kids, at least before the events of the fifth book. The cabin is going to be packed anyway, so Max has a whole bunch of adoptive half-brothers and half-sisters since he’s a friendly guy.

He gets along really well with Hephaestus cabin too, might even suspect he’s his kid because he’s also great with cars and mechanics. Basically he has an eclectic range of skills and interests due to Hermes’ Jack of all Trades nature.

Also very much a gotta go fast boi. Max is naturally athletic and outpaces his brothers (at home) in races every time.

Speaking of which, he does actually go home after every Summer to see them, though he isn’t spared from usual half-blood shenanigans…

Doesn’t like fighting much, but he has a Celestial Bronze sword which appears to mortals as a can of hairspray (I mean have you seen his curls!)

(Zach, Jude, Adam, Ciarán and The Librarian under the cut)

Zach - Son of Ares

Being that Zach’s mother, Isabel, was an elite member of a fairly militant organisation, it makes sense why Ares took an interest in her. His mom was killed by a monster when he was pretty young so he found his way to camp Half-Blood pretty quick and is an all year rounder.

It’s for this reason that he absolutely hates monsters, and Zach dedicates himself to slaying as many of them as possible.

Is naturally talented with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. Spears, swords, even archery though it is more of Apollo’s area. His feats in battle led to him being claimed by Ares pretty quickly, kind of a favourite child tbh.

He and Jude relate on a lot of things and have a pretty long history of friendship. They often accompany each other on quests whenever they can and make a great fighting team.

Very competitive in Capture the Flag though, and Chariot Races of course (though it’s very hard to beat Ciarán…)

Zach has many scars which he publicly treats as trophies due to the belligerent nature of his cabin, but really he doesn’t like them that much. He kind of puts on a show for his half-siblings, since weakness is targeted and all. They tend to idolise him as well, especially the younger ones.

He’s a collector of physical spoils of monsters though. Proud owner of a minotaur horn, which hangs ominously over his bed.

This is allegedly how he lost his eye. It���s a false story, though. The truth of it involves a certain goddess named Hecate…

Wields a super-heated Celestial Bronze spear which disguises itself as a lighter to mortals.

Jude - Daughter of Apollo

The result of a fling that her mother, Mary Bell, had when she was fairly young. Jude only knew her stepfather as a dad, at least until a monster attack killed both of her parents and left her completely shellshocked. She was taken to camp by a Satyr and felt very lost the whole time.

It was perhaps for this reason that Jude has taken to fighting off monsters so well. She doesn’t like keeping any trophies though.

Off the battlefield, she has a talent for healing inherited from her father, and spends a lot of time treating other demigods’ wounds.

She is always strongest during the day when the sun is highest, and hates Winter because there isn’t much daylight for her.

Despite being the daughter of the god of archery, she is an absolute garbage shot. She couldn’t believe it when she was claimed because of this, she almost thought it was a mistake lol. Probably thinks her dad is embarrassing as fuck too.

Also enjoys gardening so she’s friends with a lot of Demeter’s children. Except for Adam, who she gets real weird vibes from… Also, due to a feud she had with Hecate on a quest once, she and Abby don’t speak to eachother anymore. It seems she can’t forgive her.

Her weapon is a dagger made of Celestial Bronze that appears to mortals as a gold cross necklace.

Because her father is also the god of prophecy, Jude’s half-blood nightmares are especially vivid and foreboding.

Adam/Bill - Son of Demeter

It may seem pretty strange that Demeter would even take an interest in Bill’s dad, seeing as he was an asshole, a gambler, and lived in the desert… But sometimes weird things happen. Like Bill and Charlie.

As it was the arid desert, maybe Bill should’ve known something was up with him when he tracked grass and flowers everywhere. He loved to keep cacti, and had even more of a pronounced green thumb than his brother.

Being twins, obviously they were very close. Weird shit (like math teachers trying to kill them) always happened, but they didn’t think much of it until they were recovered by their Satyr. Actually, they were both pretty happy to get away from their shitty dad.

Of course, all good things come to an end. During a quest, Charlie died in a fight with a monster. Charlie, who was always the better warrior, the extroverted twin, the ace. Bill had to finish the Nemean Lion off himself.

Half-blood casualties happen all the time, but he was so well liked there were many mourners when burning his shroud.

The pelt also did come into his possession afterwards, but he didn’t want it, so it’s been left to rot away in the oracle’s attic.

After his brother’s death, Bill was never really the same. His other half-siblings tried to comfort him, but were discouraged by his change in personality. He started to experiment with plants in ways that most find a little sickening.

Like Max, he doesn’t like fighting. He isn’t great at it either, so he only really owns a greatshield that appears as a guitar case.

Ciarán - Son of Hades

Hades once fell for an Undertaker in Ireland, and the result of this union was Ciarán. That’s about the most you’ll get out of him though.

He doesn’t speak much, let alone about himself.

Ciarán is a very mysterious guy. He’s one of the oldest in camp, though he didn’t arrive until he was well in his late teens it seems. Nobody knows how old he is except possibly Chiron/the Camp Director. He also constantly wears a mask. No other half-blood has ever seen his face.

The visible appearance he does have is also a bit odd. He looks young, but has white hair, and he’s so pale and sickly that his skin is almost grey.

Maybe it’s this, or maybe it’s the fact he’s apparently the son of a god typically ostracised from the rest of the Olympians, but most people avoid him and think he’s intimidating or creepy. Even his own half-siblings aren’t immune tbh.

There are rumours that he’s not a half-blood at all, but actually a minor god of some kind… There’s no concrete proof to this though.

Often hangs around the Demeter cabin, (much to their dismay) and some of them could swear they’ve seen him admiring their flowerpots.

Carries a sword made of Stygian Iron that disguises itself as a horse-head whistle.

Max and Ciarán are often neck-and-neck in Chariot Riding activities. Neither of them are a bad sport about it though, it’s pretty easygoing.

Besties with a black Pegasus named Gormlaith.

The Librarian - Son of Athena

I know you don’t know this guy but bear with me

Being Athena’s brainchild, he was probably going to end up as a smart aleck. His rich father’s influence, however, led him to being even more of a pretentious know-it-all whose only downfall was the usual ADHD and Dyslexia, something that wasn’t understood during the time he was born (almost a century before modern times)

Even if his father survived, it didn’t matter. He had to be sent to camp half-blood for his own safety, and he was eager to learn more, but…

Just like Nico and Bianca, he spent time in the Lotus Hotel and Casino completely by accident. His Satyr had told him to wait around the area and his curiosity led to him wandering in. By the time another demigod’s quest brought them to him, decades had passed in the outside world.

So his arrival at the camp was difficult to say the least. He buried his sorrows in learning, as he always did. But misfortune followed him everywhere, even into the infamous labyrinth.

As for what happened to him, it’s difficult to say. That place isn’t exactly known for letting people out alive, though…

[nickgerlich]

Point And Search

Back in the Stone Age, meaning when I was growing up and trying to do “research” for high school and university papers, the only way we could search for something was in the card catalog at a library. The Dewey Decimal System was our best friend—well, it was basically all we had—and if this handy numerical indexing didn’t help us, we were just out of luck.

Of course, search is an expectation, an entitlement, of the modern era. We take it for granted. We do it so many times each and every day that we probably could not even begin to count them all.

Unknown to many people is that the first search engine of this era was not Google. It wasn’t Yahoo, Lycos, Ask Jeeves, or any of the others. No, it was Archie, launched in 1990 by a graduate student at McGill University. It motivated others to think in this realm, and a slew of competitors arrived on scene in due time. It wasn’t until 1998 that Sergey Brin and Larry Page wrote the code for what they then called Back Rub, which quickly morphed into the Google we know and love today.

You’re welcome for the trivia point. Play that card wisely at a cocktail party.

In the two-and-a-half decades since, Google emerged as the dominant force. The other early search engines have faded into the rear view, most defunct, the others seldom used. New search engines have arrived in recent years to carve small niches for themselves, but today Google maintains about a 90% share of the market. It’s the default on all Android devices, and most iPhone users don’t even realize that when they do a search in Safari on their phones, it too is accessing Google. Score one point for a virtual monopoly on mobile search.

But search has also evolved considerably through the years. Once upon a time, framing a query was critically important (it still is, but Google can read our minds better these days). You had to use quotes and plus or minus signs and a variety of delimiters. It’s much easier now, though. Google has been using AI for quite a few years now to predict what we’re going to type next. Furthermore, its ancillary services, like Google Maps and YouTube, also act as search engines. It pretty much owns the search eco-system.

The arrival of Open AI’s ChatGPT caused Google to have to put on its big boy and girl pants, because suddenly the world changed…again. ChatGPT allowed people to search in a different way, one that could write lengthy tomes about a subject. The old days, if you will, of all the blue links on a search query result page were suddenly rendered questionable at best.

Straight out of the gate, though, Google tripped and fell with its Bard me-too service, and laughably so. Its stock endured a sucker punch—albeit temporary—because of it. But they have since cleaned themselves off, and launched new AI search that piggybacks nicely with its other services, and will allow folks to get far more accurate results than just entering text. It’s only available to certain Android users right now, but I suspect it will be unleashed to the rest of us soon enough.

Think new and improved phone search, something it already had in place, either in its Google Translate app, or in its standard search engine. Heck, even reverse image search uses AI, but many people do not know about its existence, much less how and when to use it.

But now those select users will be able to circle and annotate images to seek information. They will also be able to point and click their camera in real time to do the same, much as my daughters and I did in Beijing to translate subway signage, which was critically important for us trying to get around.

So why is this important? Simple. It all amounts to the user experience (the UE) being maximized, which then will translate into ad revenues. In Q3 2023 Google’s ad revenue was $76.7 billion. Your eyeballs are important. Very very important. And if Google had not seen fit to up its game in AI search, someone else would have. After all, Microsoft owns a huge piece of OpenAI, and could quickly make its Bing search engine actually competitive with Google.

All of which means that the way we search is soon going to undergo another paradigm shift. Just like evolving from a physical card catalog system—oh, the nightmares—to online search, now we will be moving on to a more visual type of search. We do not need 2.3 million results either. We need nuanced answers to our questions.

Sure, there will always be text-based search, because some things are simply not conducive for visualization. But for those that are? This is golden. Imagine standing just south of El Capitan on US 62, and doing a search based on the amazing mountain your phone’s camera sees. You could get everything you need to know about one of the least visited National Parks in the US. No fluff, no garbage results. Just the story about that mountain and the park in which it is located.

The applications are endless. Scribble on that image if you want more granular information. Zoom in. Do whatever. Our jobs are getting easier, but since Google is a for-profit company, they still have to monetize everything they do. The ads will keep coming, but at least we will be able to search more efficiently.

Sure beats having to dive into that card catalog.

Dr “Search Me” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[profound-bouquetbird]

Hello!

Could I get Eda and Lilith clawthorne (separate) x Male all knowing reader?

Here's a "bit" of summary, I tend to over do the summaries to my requests so I hope these aren't a bother!

Reader went to hexside, during the same time Eda and Lilith were there as well, reader was the best student in hexside's history, due to his immense knowledge in most subjects and many others. But anything related to physical activities, reader is way less effective due to his frail body that he was born with.

Reader eventually joined the emperor's coven, after he graduated. Becoming there Intelligence/information person, due to reader knowing what happens in and around the isle's through mysterious means. But even after Lilith left the coven, reader stayed due to his own reasons. The sacred books and tome's in the emperor's castle is what he was looking for.

But every other day or so, reader sneaks out to spend time with Eda/Lilith, even though they know that if they are caught, he's gonna be imprisoned or possibly petrified.

So let's skip to the last episodes of season 2.

Before either Eda/Lilith could get to Belos to stop his plans, reader was blocking the door to Belos. Before they could make a decision on what to do reader said:

Ahh, I knew you'd come.

To try to stop King Belos, and his plan

What a sad state of affairs.

I commend your spirit, but alas, none shall stop him.

King Belos has high hopes for us.

That we continue to struggle. Unto eternity.

I'm sorry Eda/Lilith I wish it didn't have to end this way. And just like in the game Reader starts a battle, ( if reader dying is not allowed, the he is just knocked out)

Reader is immensely powerful, even surpassing Belos in terms of spells and magic, but he is frail. So any physical attack could hurt reader alot.

I hope this doesn't sound too demanding, I wasn't going for that I hope (⁠─⁠.⁠─⁠|⁠|⁠）

I hope you have a great day/afternoon/night!

molerat-anon

Eda x male!reader

This is like a part two, so I'm using your accedental two requests as an advantage :)

Again, same for the Lilith one, the reader is first presented to be in the Oracle track at Hexside, but in the emperors coven he uses all of the tracks

Edit: I'm so sorry this took me so long! A lot of people sent me requests and i thought that maybe writing short requests would be easier and by the time i wrote like two i forgot i started this 😭

Two sister witches were sitting at the Hexside lunch table

One of the sisters, Lilith, was ranting about something to her sister, Eda

But Eda was not paying attention, only watching a boy from a distance with a dazed expression

The boy was like any other young witch on the isles, well by looks that is, by power he was the most powerful young witch at Hexside, some of the witches would glare at him in jealousy, but not Eda

She was more... I'm love lets say, she didn't hate him for being powerful, she loved him for it, but again despised him at the same time, for making her sister mad

"Edalyn? Are you even listening?!" Lilith yelled, snapping Eda out of her trance

"Uh- What- Yes... what were you saying?" Eda mumbled, causing her sister to groan

"Y/n got a higher score than me again!" Lilith complained

"Really? How much did he win by this time?" Eda questioned, her sister mumbling a response

"wat was that?" Eda questioned again

"He won by half a point!" Her sister yelled

"Jeez, didn't know you were so cranky... Want some apple blood?" Eda grabbed her apple blood and extended her hand to give it to Lilith, but she smacked it out of her hand, causing in to fall on to the ground and spill

"Nevermind, i have to go to my E. C. study group meeting." Lilith said as she stood up and walked away

Eda just sighed as she poked her food

-----------------------time skip-----------------------

A couple of years had passed, Eda was a wild witch with a curse running away from the emperor's coven, whilst the love of her life was a part of the emperors coven with her sister, ironic isn't it?

The one person that hated him the most HS to work with him, whilst the person that loves him the most has to run from him

Eda couldn't help but groan in to the pillows of her couch as she barely lifter her hand to turn on her globe to watch the news

"Breaking news, one of the emperors coven's most valuable and powerful scout has broken a arm whilst fighting a wild witch! For the time being he will be resting at the emperor's castle, we wish you a quick recovery Y/n." The news reporter said

Eda froze, she couldn't listen to the words coming out of the reporters mouth as she turned off the globe, how could someone hurt her Y/n?

"Eda! Eda! Have you seen the news? Turns out the love of your life you had coooooonstantly been talking about broke his arm-"

"I know Hooty!" Eda groaned s she got up from the couch

"Well, aren't you gonna sent him some flowers, or sould iiiii sent some again." Hooty said

"I'm going to- wait, you sent him flowers before?!" Eda yelled

"Goodbye!" Hooty yelled as he went back to the door, Eda just rolled her eyes as she went outside of her house to pluck some flowers

---

Later that night Eda put on all black clothing and planned to sneak in to the castle

Getting the flowers and secret admirer note she wrote a while ago, she left the safety of her home and flew towards the emperor's castle on Owlbert

"Almost there Owlbert, remember our secret word." Eda whispered as the castle slowly came in to view

She landed on top of the building and walked inside

Sneaking around the guards and trying to find the healing room took about an hour and a half, but then she finally found it

She walked in to the room and saw Y/n sleeping on the bed, he looked pale and had huge bags under his eyes, but in Eda's eyes he looked just as beautiful as the first time she saw him

She quickly snapped out of her trance and put the bouquet and note next to his bed, leaving through the window she yelled

"THE OWL HAS DELIVERED!"

Owlbert taking about three seconds before appearing in front of Eda

She jumped on and they flew back all the way to her house

----------------------------------------------------------

"Eda, are you a 100% sure you want to do this?" Lilith questioned as she looked upon the emperor's huge castle

"Yes Lilith I'm sure, plus who else is a good enough witch to break in to the emperor's castle to steal some dumb paperwork." Eda laughed as she sat on her palismen, lifting herself up in to the air

"Eda." Eda heard her sister call out

"yes Lilith?" The witch groaned as she turned to her sister with an annoyed expression

"stay safe." She sighed, Eda's face softened as she looked at her sister before turning her head to face the emperor's castle with a cheeky grin

"don't worry. I will." Eda said as she quicky flew up higher in the air and towards the emperors castle

She looked through the windows to see if she can spot the door that Darius explained to her

After passing a few empty hallways and almost getting caught she finally found the door that fit Darius's description

"Bingo." She chuckled lightly, tugging on Owlbert lightly to get closer to the window as she stood up

"here goes nothing." She sighed, forcing her body weight on to the window, hoping to break it, but only for it to open and for her to fall on to the floor with a groan

Owlbert looked at her with worry as she just smiled and gave him a thumbs up

"now let's get those papers." She said to no one in particular as Owlbert went in her hair, she approached the door and rested her hand on the golden handle. Before she could take in on what she was about to do she heard people talking, so she turned the handle quickly and walked inside, closing the door behind her as well

She sighed in relief as she looked around the room, only to see scattered papers, she sighed

"This will take a while..." She groaned, getting on to her knees as she searched for the papers she was supposed to return with

---

It didn't take a while for Eda to find the type of papers Lilith and Darius told her about, only ten minutes

She sighed in victory as she got up and dusted herself up, rolling up the tater as she put it in her hair

"well Owlbert, I'll call this mission a success-" she turned around, her sentence being cut short as she saw an oh so familiar man in front of her

"Y/n." She breathed out, her heart in her chest beating quickly, partially from fear and partially from the feelings she had since they were young witches in Hexside

"Ahh, I knew you'd come." He breathed out, clicking his tongue as he shook his head

"To try and stop King Belos and his plan." He laughed, "What a sad state of affairs." He sighed, taking a step closer towards Eda

"I commend your spirit, but alas, none shall stop him." He said, his grin fading as he lifted up his hand and extended his pointer finger, getting ready to cast a spell as any moment, "King Belos has high hopes for us."

"I'm sorry Eda I wish it didn't have to end this way." He sighed, quickly drawing a circle with his finger as spirits shot towards Eda

"she luckily was able to dodge them in time as she pulled out Owlbert from her hair and casted a spell to get rid of the attacking spirits

"Y/n, you don't have to do this." Eda said, letting out a shaky breath as she gripped on to Owlbert

"Oh but I have to, I cannot let anyone stop King Belos." He said, casting a huge circle as abomination goo shot up from the ground and went towards Eda

She continued dodging his attack's, not wanting to hurt the love of her life, but she knew if she were to come out of this mission victorious, she would have to do something about him. Even if it meant getting him killed

She groaned in frustration as every word she tried to say to him only got cut off by either spirits, plants or abomination goo

Without a word she spinner Owlbert, creating a large circle as she sent out a powerful gust of wind towards Y/n, he got knocked back as she hit his back against the wall, coughing up blood lightly

He lifted his hand, casting an illusion spell as to create a distraction, only for Eda to create an owl worm of some sort pierce though the illusion and hit Y/n, knocking him out cold

She sighed, tears forming in her eyes as she could see his breaths start to be less frequent

For a witch as strong as him, even a hit to the chest could cause him to pass out, ad Eda knew that, that's why she decided to use the somewhat sculpture of Hooty to hit him

She kneeled down in front of him as she kissed his forehead

"I'm sorry that it had to end this way." He voice cracked as more tears emerged in her eyes

She stood up, opening the door and seeing if there was someone in the hallway, and luckily there wasn't

Before she went out of the room she took one last glance at Y/n, memories of the two of them together flashed in her head as she shut her eyes and ran out, quickly mounting Owlbert as she flew back towards Darius and her sister

-------------------------the end------------------------

A/n: oh my goodness anon I am so sorry that this took me so God damn long! I hope you can forgive me but for now, enjoy this crappy angst y oneshot