#was this how Dionysus felt when people gave him wine?

[poppyseedsorpoppy]

Shoutout to the person who, upon seeing the mountain of books next to me, gave me free coffee. Your offering to the Ancient Tomes has been seen and appreciated.

[cherrycola27]

CHERRY! Congrats on 2k Babe!

Could I request a smutty or fluffy Dionysus Iceman?!

Here’s to hoping for 2k more friends! 🎉🎉

Thanks, Mal! Here's one just for you:

Life of the Party:

The music inside the O Club was at top volume. The lights were low, the drinks were cold, and the venue was flooded with a sea of Navy men dressed in their summer whites. Fleet Week had once again made its way to San Diego.

You sat in a corner booth while you watched your friends flirt with some sailors. They laughed and giggled and squeezed their biceps.

You huffed and went to take a sip of your vodka tonic only to realize that it was empty. You sighed and cast a glance at the bar. It was packed with people waiting for drinks. You resided yourself to wait until the chaos died down.

You were fiddling with your straw when he came over. You didn't notice him at first, but when his looming silhouette peered over your table, you looked up and made eye contact with him.

He was impossibly handsome. Icy blue eyes, frosted blonde hair, crisp summer whites uniform, and this aura about him that screamed "party". It was like the entire atmosphere of the club radiated from him. Like he was behind the fun everyone was having.

He gave you a silent nod asking if he could join you. You wordlessly waved to the empty booth beside you.

He slid in. You expected him to keep some distance between the two of you, but instead, he saddled right up beside you and slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

"Why's the prettiest girl in here sitting all by herself at my party?" He asked you.

"Your party?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Exactly." He responded smoothly. "What's your name, honey?" He asked you. "You told him your name, and he grinned approvingly. "The call me Ice. Can I get you another drink?" He asked you.

As much as you wanted to resist and not give into his charms, there was something about him that drew you in. "Sure." You replied with a coy smile.

You expected him to get up, but instead, he waved a hand over your cup, and your once empty drink was now filled again.

"How did you—" You looked at him in disbelief. A glint of mischief flashed across his face.

"Let's call it a party trick," He whispered low in your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he traced a knuckle along your cheek.

"I could show you a few more if you wanted me too." He breathed out against the shell of your ear.

"I'd like that, but maybe not here. It's too loud." You told him in a sultry tone. He chuckled and then, with a snap of his fingers everything stopped. It was like time froze aside from the two of you.

"Better?" He asked you as he pressed himself closer to you.

You stared at him with wide eyes. "Another one of my party tricks." He smirked.

"Who are you? What are you?" You asked him hesitantly.

"I'm a God baby girl." He told you smoothly. "A God? Like from the myths?" You chuckled. "Well, they aren't exactly myths. More like inaccurate history." He jokes before taking a sip of his drink. "As for who I am, Ice is a nickname. My real name is Dinoysus. So when I said it was my party, I meant it. Every party is my party. It's kind of my thing." He shrugs his shoulders.

You take a deep breath before speaking, "Dinoysus like the God of drama, wine, and—"

"Pleasure." Ice finishes for you.

"Yeah." You swallow thickly. "So how about we get out of here, baby girl, and I can show every reason why they call me the God of pleasure." He cocks his head to the side and trails a hand up your thigh waiting for your response.

"Are we taking your chariot or mine?" You tease him.

A wide grin breaks out across his face as Ice takes your hand in his and leads you through the mass of frozen people. Once out the door, he snaps his fingers, and the party continues as if nothing as if had happened.

[travelingthief]

My Favorite Moment with: Lord Dionysus

Lord Dionysus was one of the first deities to reach out to me. I had put up a small altar for Him, but He is a god that demands attention that I was not ready to give, so He left until I was ready for Him. That time came mid 2021.

I had recently taken over my mother’s lease on a one bedroom apartment so she could move South to fulfill the purpose Her God had for her. She was to work at a sobriety house for women struggling with addiction - a battle my mother knew all to well. For nearly a decade, my mother was a drug user and functional alcoholic. She hid it well - except from my brother who she shared her supply with - but when I was 15 she started to change. She found herself in the pews of a non-demonoationional church that offered her a way out. Our relationship, which was not build on a solid foundation, began to change. I had come out to her as trans nearly two years prior, and she was accepting. I was allowed to transition socially and when I was a month away from 16, I began my medical transition. Drastic change didn’t happen until she started attending a Pentecostal church that told her parents of queer children were failures. She told me this teaching, laughing it off as a ridiulous extremist belief, but continued to go to the church. Over time, she began to internalize some of those teachings and she hadn’t been particularly supportive of my transition since.  

I had purged my new apartment of any Jesus related items she left behind and put up my own decor. I had been having a tugging feeling toward Dionysus in recent days so one night I stood in my kitchen and connected my phone to the speaker. I found an old song I hadn’t heard since high school and pressed play. I took down the bottle of cheap moscato my mother had left behind (a secret I was to not tell the church) and sipped it - a day or two passed freshness. I began to dance and sing along, bottle in hand.

I’m feeling devious/you’re looking glamorous

Let’s get michevious/and polyamourous 

I felt Lord Dionysus join me as I twirled around the small kitchen, laughing and singing loudly. My body tingled and I had the realization - this song was on peoples’ devotional playlists. I was not the only one who heard it and felt a connection to the Divine. I became giddy with glee as I rejoiced in the connection I felt with my community. On the final beat, I took a large swig of the wine, thanking Lord Dionysus for His presence.

I hadn’t queued up the next song; it had automatically played based on my listening habits. I had heard “Rock n Roll Suicide” by David Bowie only a handful of times - enough to recgonize the melody and hum along. I cradled my bottle as the excitement from the last song faded and was replaced by Bowie’s melancholy message. I began to look around my apartment and see it from my mother’s eyes. 

She would hate that. I thought, looking at a sign with the Devil and Grim Reaper stirring a pot of coffee. And that. I turned to see my Halloween decor. I sipped the wine and hummed. You’re a rock ‘n’ roll suicide. I picked up a Ninja Turtle action figure - one of the only relics I had left of my baby brother. She’d like this. I thought. Because my mother doesn’t hate me but I’m not sure I’d call it love. 

Then I turned to see the bookshelf filled with My faith. She would hate that. This wasn’t just the tarot cards I had when I was 16 that she pretended to not see. This was pendulums and rune stones, painted skulls and half a dozen oracle decks. This was altars and grimoires, this was me.

And she would hate it.

And I thought of every moment she pretended I didn't exist and every disapproving remark she gave and every high horse she rode when spitting on other faiths and how the core parts of my identity were the ones she resented the most.

And Bowie screamed,

You’re not alone

And I fell to my knees

and wept.

And Dionysus was there to pick me back up when it was over and remind me that I am wonderful, and that people are with me in faith. This was the first time I had truly felt “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” and I haven’t been the same since. I still tear up everytime I hear that song, and in all honesty I’m tearing up writing this.

And that is my favorite moment with Lord Dionysus.

[chucklevoodoosqueen2324]

Meet Calliope, an Ancient Grecian tiefling bard and my most recent DnD character! For her infidelity to her husband, Calliope's mother Aspasia was cursed by the goddess Hera to bear an impish child. In fear for both her life and her child's, she fled, heavily pregnant, into the nearby forest, abandoning her life as a noblewoman. Calliope was born in a grove sacred to Dionysus, which led to the two being taken in by his cult. From a young age, Calliope was raised in the Cult, learning about Dionysus, his stories, and how to worship him with every fiber of her being. She learned the Cult's rituals and would participate in them with devotion and adoration; mad drunken revelry, sparagmos sacrifices, even orgies when she became of age. Her favorite forms of worship, however, was through dancing and playing the lyre. While she felt a calling to become a priestess (cleric) to her god, Calliope longed to see the world beyond the borders of the Sacred Grove and the forest. With this in mind, she became a traveling minstrel, using her lyre music, dancing, and storytelling to not only offer praise to Dionysus, but to spread his worship unto the people outside the Cult. During a visit back to the Sacred Grove, Dionysus himself came to Calliope in a vision during a drunken revelry, commending her for her creative methods of worship. He gave her his blessing, granting her the use of magic, a pyxis of sacred Dionysian wine, and the title of one of his closest Acolytes. From then on, Calliope has continued to perform abroad, lifting her songs of praises to her god and spreading his divine influence.

Picrews:

[falling-pages]

Over and Over, Again and Again: KyoHaru (commission)

The absolutely lovely @ouranbound commissioned me for her birthday. This was so much fun and I just melt every time I read it 🥺 thank you so much sweetheart, I hope your day is magical!!

Info on commissions here (updated!)

-

Despite the heat, despite the outdoors, Kyoya considered it a lovely afternoon, if only for two reasons: he had a book in his hands and Haruhi’s head in his lap.

-

Kyoya Ootori x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Contains: first I Love Yous, established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, but no drinking

-

Kyoya did not like being outside. It was often hot and sticky, the sun too bright and burning his skin, or too cold and blustery, the wind too harsh for his delicate constitution. Even refraining from walking to work, using his own driver to commute the blocks. It was silly, yes, and quite wasteful, but he had the money, and all that money allowed him to demand comfort. He never could understand why the others seemed to strain at their leashes to go outdoors--Mori and Hikaru organizing hikes and fishing trips, Tamaki and Kaoru scampering after them. He couldn’t find pleasure in swatting at the sweat running down his back, or cleaning his glasses every few minutes. The outdoors were quite insufferable.

But Haruhi liked the outdoors, and he liked Haruhi.

He supposed it was because of their different upbringings. While he had all the luxury of indoor pools and air conditioning, she didn’t. The outdoors were free; a simple space where commoners could exist without the expectation of spending money. Unlike any mall or restaurant, beneath the sun, the air cost nothing.

So he put up with it whenever she requested it. Her cool touch was more enticing than air conditioning, anyways.

He began to regret it, though, when their wine was no longer chilled. They had arranged a lovely picnic, lounging in a field his father owned. There were plans to develop it, one day, but for now it remained wild. A place where lovers could stow away amid the tall grass waving in the wind.

They sat in the shade of a lemon tree. Remains of rei-shabu and morokyu were stowed away in their picnic satchel, next to the ice pack. Their glasses were still filled with strawberry wine, though their minds and stomachs were too content to have more.

Despite the heat, despite the outdoors, Kyoya considered it a lovely afternoon, if only for two reasons: he had a book in his hands and Haruhi’s head in his lap.

It would have been lovelier in late May or early June, but he had been so busy with the end of the fiscal year. He was afraid of Haruhi’s impending disillusionment, with their relationship still so new, but if she was ever discontent, he knew she would tell him. Dating him had not turned her into a placated doll, as he had feared. He still took care of her, showering her in wealth whenever she asked, but it was rare; mostly, she just wanted to spend time with him, and he just wanted to take care of her, making sure her stomach was full and loans paid.

Not to say he didn’t spoil her, though. He had bought the very dress she was wearing, a strappy yellow thing with magenta stitching. And the gold earrings, shaped like roses on dangling stems, which laid so artfully on the backdrop of her velvet brown hair splayed against his thigh. Her hair was long enough to begin curling slightly at the ends, whenever it wasn’t done up in her tight law school bun.

It was rare he saw her like this, heart unbound and carefree. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips as he ran them against her cheek, half dreaming, half admiring. She slept in his lap, tuckered out from their afternoon. Lips red from wine pulled back slightly, a whimper on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, he feared had awoken her, hand frozen on her jaw, but she turned her neck back into his leg and resumed her breathing.

He sighed in relief. He had already ruined much in his life. The peaceful portrait beneath him was too pure to interrupt.

Once she was back asleep, he gave one last glance to her blushed cheeks and held up his book. It was old, a brown cover etched with gold, antique and clearly made for a bygone era, tattered pages though born on a press just a few years ago. Kyoya felt like that sometimes. An anachronism of his own kind. Set in one spot and lost to the pages of history.

But not here. A butterfly landed on Haruhi’s nose. Instead of swatting it, he watched, breathed in the life bellowing into his bones. In the world, at work, with his family, his soul felt ancient; his shoulders shook with the weight of an old-world empire. But with her, he was fresh, bathing in the fountain of youth. He was no longer an Atlas, cursed with the weight of the world; he was Dionysus with Ariadne--his shining jewel in the sky.

The love he had for her transcended space and time, yet she was blissfully unaware.

Tamaki’s advice echoed in his ears. He had to tell her eventually, else he’d lose her. Trained in all things etiquette, he still stumbled over even the most human of phrases.

Kyoya shook his head. The day he listened to Tamaki’s advice would be the day he’d resign from the Ootori group. As he returned to his book, his focus shifted. Some old French thing on culture, it mocked his feelings with dry phrases and tiny text. Tamaki had taught him enough French to get by, but reading it was another matter. It was to better himself and improve his chances with foreign business relations, was what he told himself, at least.

Haruhi’s ease and fascination with the language certainly had nothing to do with it. Nor did the jealousy in his palms when he would watch the two he loved most converse and giggle without him.

Some time after he resumed scanning it, regretting how he left his translation dictionary at home, Haruhi awoke. Not with a sigh or startle, as he was accustomed, but silently, with a breath, as if he were the bridge in which she crossed from one world into the next.

She laid still and watched him read, brilliant mind sweeping over each and every word. From the angle of his head tilt, she could see his eyes behind his glasses, a sharp, rare, deep black. Nondescript, and beautiful, the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen--above Tamaki’s lavender, Mori’s silver, the twins’ bronze and amber. She loved them because within their deep pools of tar, she saw her future.

Haruhi didn’t know for how long she looked at him. She had just started to fall back asleep when he spoke.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he murmured, not even taking his sight from the page.

She stayed focused on the smooth, pale skin of his jaw. It clenched and unclenched periodically, whenever he came across a phrase or word he didn’t know. She could have offered her help, but his lap was just too comfortable.

“I like the view,” she shrugged.

When he set the book down, eyes widened, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Out of all the sights, of the trees, flowers, and fields surrounding us, you think me more admirable?”

She was the lawyer--she was the one used to provoking confessions from people--but his cunning as a businessman made the words drip from his lips like honey, accentuating even as he dipped his head down to hers. Haruhi scrambled to shift her weight to her arm, propping herself up to meet his lips. And yet he hovered, smirking as he watched her mouth chase his, quieting her displeased whines with a chuckle.

“What, no answer?”

He was the devil in disguise, with a voice so silver and smooth, and she knew it. But if he were the devil, she was his Persephone--his lips were her pomegranate, and she bit.

She mustered her frustration into finally catching him in a kiss, swatting at his chest when she tasted his beleaguered smirk.

“You know my answer,” she retorted. “I choose you every day, over and over again.”

“I know,” my darling.” He removed his glasses, the only barrier between them, and pressed his forehead to hers. “And for that, I love you.”

He said it. It wasn’t how he planned on saying it, but it was there, suspended in the air by wires thin as twine. Her hand stilled in his hair, but she didn’t remove it.

“That’s the first time you’ve said it,” she breathed, an elation and joy she didn’t know she missed bubbling in her chest.

Kyoya opened his eyes. They had clenched shut on instinct, as protection, so he wouldn’t have to see the way she rejected him. But her calm voice coaxed them back open, and they settled on her lazy smile.

“It is,” he affirmed. “I thought...I thought you knew. It’s been so long.”

They had been dating for three months, yet known each other for nine years, and Kyoya had loved her for most of that. She had loved him for only half that, that she knew, but their affection was ancient, the kind read about in archaic stone tablets. The kind that would wait forever and ever to be discovered again and again.

“I do,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

And just when he thought his back would break from carrying the world, she kissed away his pain into an immortal love.

-

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 9

A/N: Part 9 is here y’all! Enjoy! And let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! 💕💕💕

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, slight mention of past trauma and wounds.

You had already boarded Zemo’s private jet, sitting on the seat across from him while Sam had sat beside you with Bucky across from him. Oeznik had approached you all, asking if you wanted something to eat or drink and sharing a few words with Zemo. You shook your head, politely refusing with a kind smile before staring out the window of the jet and watching the clouds. Even though you had just left your home, you missed everyone there dearly, almost wishing you had the chance to bring Kólasi along. But you knew the local people would not take kindly to a dragon walking their streets. And wherever you were now heading, you had a feeling you were going somewhere you wouldn’t find agreeable.

“So do you have a private jet?” You heard Sam ask you.

“Nah.”

“How come?”

“She has a dragon and a pegasus Sam. I’m pretty sure they are her mode of transportation.” Zemo added.

“Wait. But what if it’s raining or there’s a storm?” Sam turned in his seat to face you, leaning in as he was curious to know how you managed to ride openly through the clouds in a storm.

“Well my father was Zeus, the god of the skies and thunder Sam. A little lightning won’t hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t you be soaked though? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“Yes, well if that’s the case than I can just teleport.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you able to teleport others?” Bucky wanted to know, if so, it would be helpful to use that, right?

“I can. But the very first time can be unpleasant.”

“How so?”

“Well try to imagine your molecules separating and joining back together.” You tried to make an example with a motion of your hands. “So that in itself is an unpleasant feeling. You’ll also most likely puke your insides out after your first time. And there are even some rare cases where you might come back......disarranged.”

“What do you mean by disarranged?” Zemo raised his brow, not sure if you meant what he thought you meant. Would you reappear, swapped in each other’s bodies or.......

“Oh you know. Your leg might end up where your arm is supposed to be. Or your head might be sticking out your ass, something like that.” You smirked as you toyed with them, seeing the terrified expressions on everyone’s faces. They were most likely praying you wouldn’t use that ability on them. “I’m kidding, geez. Tough crowd.”

“Kidding about what part?” Bucky remarked.

“The disarrangement part. But in all realness, the only side affects are nausea and vomiting and your body feeling like jello. But you’ll get used to it.”

“Sounds like a blast.” Sam noted. “Please don’t teleport us unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Only if absolutely necessary.” You promised.

“Also, what’s up with all the weapons? Were you some kind of mercenary?” Sam asked you another question as he thought about all the weapons and armor you had in your armory.

“Well I wouldn’t call it that. Mercenaries were for profit and personal interest. I on the other hand went after tyrants and criminals. But I also hunted down monsters that posed a threat to the human population. I guess you could say I dealt with more of the.....supernatural.” You tried to elaborate.

“Monsters?” Sam raised his brow. “Like what?”

“You know, vampires, werewolves, minotaurs, hydras, chimeras, echidnas, sea monsters-“ you started to list off before Sam cut you off.

“Woah woah hang on. Vampires and werewolves? As in like twilight?”

“Hell no. I’m talking vicious flesh eating monsters here that absolutely do not sparkle. I mean, there are still some vampires left that play by the rules and don’t feed on your fellow mortals. But sometimes you’ll have the few that think they can break the rules like a bunch of idiots. Werewolves on the other hand are trickier, don’t get me started on them. But don’t worry, I got a guy, a half-mortal or daywalker, in charge of the supernatural business.”

“Hold up. So you were what? Like a Van Helsing?”

“Welll, Van Helsing was a real person.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky sat up in his seat. “What about Dracula?”

“Oh he was a real pain in the ass I tell you. That slimy bastard tried to seduce me so that he could take all the creatures under my control to do his bidding. Well, as you can see, that obviously didn’t work.”

Before the men could ask any more questions your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you pick it up to see Maze’s name on the front. Your heart skipped a beat for a moment as you stared at the screen, all the negative possibilities running through your head.

“Who is it?” Sam asked you once he noticed your expression.

“It’s Maze.”

“Did something happen?” Bucky inquired, his brows were raised and his voice was filled with concern.

“I hope not.” You accepted the call, lifting your phone to your ear. “Maze?”

“Hekate! It’s Athena!” Maze spoke in a somewhat panicked voice which only added to your nervousness and suspicions.

You shot up from your seat at the tone of her voice and her mentioning your daughter’s name. “What?! What do you mean? Did something happen to her?”

The men watched you with concern, leaning forward in the edge of their seats once they heard your daughter being mentioned. They were ready to rush over to your place right now if need be.

“Well she fell from the tree.”

“She what?!” Your blood ran cold and your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt as if it would burst right through your rib cage. “Maze speak!”

“Okay! Hang on a second. What happened was, she was playing around in her treehouse and tried to climb to the top of the tree. I tried to stop her when I saw what she was doing but she fell straight down.”

You shrieked in panic at what you had just heard. Your knees felt weak and you thought you might pass out but Bucky stood up to give you support, holding you as you gripped on to his metal arm, nearly crushing it in the process. “Is she hurt? Maze you need to tell me!”

Oeznik came in upon hearing your trembling voice, asking if anything was the matter, but Zemo had explained to him that they had it under control and should alert him if anything was needed.

“Well that’s why I’m calling you. She’s totally fine.” Maze replied.

“Wait............wait what?” You shook your head in confusion, not getting what she was talking about.

“I know right? I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be broken bones and like lots of blood after a fall like that, but she doesn’t even have a scratch on her. She even laughed the whole thing off like some kind of miniature maniac. She nearly gave me a heart attack, and demons don’t get heart attacks. Now is that normal and should I be worried?”

“Uhhh.” You were unable to form words as you tried to figure it out. Was it the protection spell you put over her or was it just her in general? You had kept such a close eye on Athena, making sure she never got hurt, that now that she has been in a situation where she could’ve gotten injured, you didn’t know how to react or what to think. But Maze did say she didn’t have a single scratch or broken bone or any kind of injury. So that must be a good thing.....right?

“Hekate?” You heard Maze on the other line again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine. I was just.....thrown off for a bit. How is she?”

“Oh she’s great! We painted each other’s nails today. She’s taking a nap right now though. Hey, where’s that good shit that you have?”

“Good shit?”

“You know. Your really expensive wine from Olympus that your sibling, the wine god, what’s their name made?”

“Dionysus?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm it’s in the very top cupboard above the sink.”

“Okay thanks. I need a glass after what happened, or a bottle. Bye Hekate!” Maze hung up while you stood there, still surprised to hear Athena was unharmed and feeling almost drained after the whole ordeal.

“Everything okay?” Bucky whispered, his eyes searching your face for any further signs.

You noticed how close he was as he supported you, and you couldn’t help the blush that appeared on your cheeks, averting your gaze from his steel blue eyes. “Yeah, uh thanks.” You let go of his metal arm while he let go of you, allowing you to sit back in your seat.

“So is everything okay with Athena?” You heard Sam ask while you stared at the ground.

“Athena uh fell from the tree.”

“Is she okay?” Zemo asked you, his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah she’s fine, surprisingly. There wasn’t a single scratch on her. Must be the genes.”

Bucky pulled up the sleeve of his metal arm, a surprised chuckle leaving his lips as he saw the dented hand print you left behind. “Geez y/n. What’s with the Hercules grip?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, glancing down at his arm to see your handprint dented into the vibranium. “Oh shit! I am so sorry! Let me fix that.” With a wave of your hand and a swirl of violet around your fingers, you fixed the dent in Bucky’s arm as if nothing ever happened to it.

Once Sam saw that you were completely fine, he turned to Zemo. “So, why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” Zemo pulled out a small leather book which looked like the exact same one Steve had.

You jolted back in your chair as Bucky charged at Zemo, grabbing him by the neck and snatching the book back.

Your eyes widened at the commotion in front of you. “Yo! Can you guys chill out?”

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky threatened him before going back to his seat.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam commented. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like 40s music, so....”

“You didn’t like it?” Sam gave him an offended look.

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Zemo elaborated to the conversation.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.” James responded.

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye. And y/n likes him too, don’t you y/n?” Sam now turned to you.

“Hm? Oh yeah, he’s great! Hendrix was pretty awesome too. Saw him in Woodstock, super chill dude to jam out on the guitar with by the way. I may or may not have dropped acid there.” You added the last part to yourself, though Sam overheard it and gave you a judgmental look, to which you looked at him, mouthing how it was only one time.

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo voiced. “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

“They become symbols.” Zemo continued to make his point. “Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

As Zemo spoke, you thought about how many of your people looked up to your father and brother, and even Hera. How many of them saw them as their beloved gods and saviors, these righteous and glorious beings. But you were there and witnessed what happened behind closed doors, you were a product of that, a product of their faults and imperfections. And as those memories came rushing back to you, so did the pain of the scars it left behind. You could still feel the tenderness of the long scar on your face left by Ares, and the number of ones that were scattered on your back like a pile of jagged twigs, leaving behind a grisly form of artwork.

“That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” Zemo finished.

You lifted your head up at the mention of the place, jerking your head towards Zemo. Well you were right about how you weren’t going to like the new destination.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky

[yellowocaballero]

The Crocodile's Dilemma: In Which Helen exploits Michael's Labor, Michael suffers an un-identity crisis, and unpaid internships should be illegal

It’s tough being a teenage embodiment of the Spiral. Your boss/wine aunt figure Helen’s a Tory, your inattentive cousin figure Mike Crew keeps attending philosophy classes and day drinking, and you’re pretty sure that this internship doesn’t have any dental. At least it’s good job experience for your future career in...being evil? But do you even want to be evil?

This small story is technically part of my Roleswap AU, but I specifically wrote it so that no knowledge is required. Still, if you’re wondering why Michael’s an eighteen(ish) year old, Mike Crew’s an Avatar of the Spiral, and everybody is obsessed with Melanie King, check it out. Still, no need. Rest under the cut.

Maybe Helen was right.

Not that Helen was ever strictly right, much as Helen was never wrong, but Michael just had to be doing this whole fear demon thing incorrectly. If someone had explained the whole fear demon thing to them two years ago (“Okay, so it’s like you’re the semi-sentient appendage of an extradimensional force of evil that has to consume trauma relentlessly in order to propagate its own debatable existence, also you’re nonbinary now, no those things are not strictly related, probably”), then they would have called them crazy. Which, of course, they were, but that wasn’t the point. So long as the point existed. So long as anything -

An essential theorem within quantum physics was the quantum Zeno effect. 

Simply put, it was the fact that a quantum state would decay if left alone, but does not decay under continuous observation. Even observing the results after the photon is produced leads to collapsing the wave function and loading a back-history as shown by delayed choice quantum eraser. If something was seen, it no longer existed; if something persisted unperceived, it would exist as long as it liked. 

So it was explained to Michael by the physics professor he was torturing that day. Michael had trapped the man in the physics building of his university, lured in by one too many late nights in his office and the persistent sense that his life was going nowhere meaningful. After a few classes spent sitting in on his Physics 101 class, maintaining constant and forever eye contact, Michael had eventually tricked the man into giving a persistent and ongoing physics lecture to an empty classroom, desperately trying to explain the inexplicable to a college freshman who did not care. Truly miserable, yet ultimately harmless - Michael’s favorite kind of trick. 

But, despite themself, Michael grew interested. They didn’t understand any of what the man was talking about, but that was all of the fun. Understanding ruined the magic of things; broke down the beauty of the universe into cogs and gears. No thanks. They could tell that it bothered the professor, that he said so much and yet knew nothing. That there was so much he would never know, and that he wasn’t so smart after all. How would any of his colleagues respect him?

“So photons degrade if they’re observed?” Michael asked one day, after...some period of time. They had raised their hand and everything, they were so proud of themself. Uni was just like secondary school after all. “Is that true of people too?”

The professor had sweated, deeply uncomfortable with Michael as a person and as a non-euclidean concept. “No - no, not at all. Humans are much more than photons -”

Michael grinned. It wasn’t quite right. “Are you sure?”

The professor sweated harder. “I - no, I’m not. But humans are constantly observed by - by the universe, or something.”

Michael grinned sharper. “Are you sure? Are you being observed right now? Are you sure?”

And the professor was not sure, not anymore, and the fragment of this man’s reality collapsed. 

Well, Michael thought to themself, slipping out of an improbable yellow door, that’s another Statement for the Magnus Institute. Not that they would read it. 

****

“Now, remember this - the first step to being a successful Avatar is presentation!”

Michael squinted at Helen dubiously. “I thought we were fear demons?”

Helen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with two sharp knife fingers. It looked as if it hurt quite a bit, but Michael reasoned that they had probably gone through the fifth dimension. “This is the stupidest dimension - fine, fine! Fear demons, then. It is absolutely vital that we conduct our business with style, grace, and the slightest sprinkling of pizazz!” 

Just for the flourish, Helen twirled her fingers, and a faint shower of confetti came raining down from the ceiling. Michael sneezed. 

“I thought it was vital that we harvest fear and trauma from people to propagate our cursed existence,” Michael said. 

Helen’s eyebrow twitched. “More than two things can be vital, Michael. Please pay attention. Now, as a demonstration, I’d like you to take a gander at that man over there.”

Obediently, Michael looked across the bar. They were sitting on barstools in a high-class pub, because Helen knew her worth and never settled for anything less, with glass counters and lots of private booths. But all pubs had their sad men drinking alone, and this one was no exception. 

This man wasn’t sullen and slow like a lot of them. He was wearing a nice suit and thin tie, looking straight out of Canary Wharf. Michael silently agreed with Helen’s choice - they took eat the rich very seriously, and also literally. He also seemed a little jumped up on something, with shaking hands and erratic eyes. 

“He looks happy,” Michael observed. “Think it’s his birthday?”

“He’s on cocaine, Michael,” Helen said flatly. “Cocaine. We are at a posh bar, and he is currently doing a line off his watch.”

Oh! Michael suddenly felt very uncool. They had never been one of those people in secondary school who did cocaine. They hadn’t been cool. “I knew that,” Michael bluffed. “What are we going to do to him?”

“Take the teenager as your intern, they said,” Helen groused, “it’s investing in the future, they said, it’ll stop them from eating you when they grow up, they said.” She sighed, jabbing a finger at the now very obviously coked up man who was staring at the bottles behind the bartender as if they were whispering secrets of the universe into his ear. Helen liked that one. “Use your intuition. Find a good angle to squeeze. What are his weaknesses to exploit?”

Oh, Michael knew how to do this. They shifted vibrations just a bit, dropping out of what Michael liked to call the ‘mild’ spectrum into the ‘spicy’ spectrum. They were distantly aware of a patron’s glass shattering. 

They squinted at the man, picking out his little fears and insecurities like Dionysus picking grapes. Maybe. Michael had gotten a C in English, but they were somewhat cognizant of the Spiral munching heavily on Bacchanalia. Sometimes they felt like some of those children who spoke in tongues and claimed to be from a past life. That had also been the Spiral.

“He owns a Nintendo NES,” Michael said confidently, absolutely sure that this was important. Helen groaned. “His house is painted white, and his girlfriend does tax fraud.”

“Something relevant?” Helen hinted desperately.

Michael just squinted at her. “Relevant to what?”

“...good point. But something useful, please.”

Picky. Michael scowled, but gave the man another good gander. “He only remembers faint details of his father’s face, and he worries that his recollections aren’t accurate,” Michael proclaimed finally. 

Helen clapped, delighted, as Michael took a careful sip of their water, turning it into fizzy water. She took a sip of her own wine, turning it into champagne. Or maybe just sparkling unreality? “Wonderful. Now, how should we play this? Insert a false father into his life, completely separate from his recollections, or is that a bit too Stranger? I suppose we could do some good old-fashioned gaslighting, but sometimes that’s just a bit too Melanie, if you catch my drift -”

“Are you jealous that the Archive girls are better at gaslighting than you are?” 

“Shut it, kid,” Helen hissed, before taking a long drag of her champagne. “My vote is that we convince him to top off his coke bender with some LSD. Then he hallucinates - oh, he hallucinates that he’s in a mental institution, that’s a good one -”

“Why don’t we shift everything thirty cm to the right?” Michael asked brightly.

Helen squinted at them. They beamed back. 

“You are so bad at this,” Helen said. 

Michael would have felt crushed if Helen didn’t express this sentiment roughly once per lunar cycle, contrariwise. As it was, they bore the criticism with a stiff upper lip. Helen had her way of harvesting fear from unsuspecting humans, and Michael had theirs. “Look, Helen, you’re being uncreative! We don’t have to traumatize people every single time.”

Helen squinted further. “We’re personifications of deceit. We eat trauma.”

“No, we eat confusion,” Michael pointed out patiently. “Look at it this way. If you give someone one really terrible experience, then they repress it for the rest of their lives and consider it a brush with Hell. One and done, see? But if you minorly inconvenience them for a really long time, then they’ll never be able to break out of it. They’ll feel as if something’s wrong, but they’ll never know it. You can keep the game going for years that way!”

The idea was very good. Michael had been working on it for a while. Truth be told, Michael felt bad traumatizing people outright and making them scream and cry and everything. They always felt as if they were doing something wrong by making other people’s existences a living nightmare. Michael much preferred rigging a corn maze so you were stuck in it for days inside the maze but only an hour outside. It was funner, and much more confusing. 

But Helen just pursed her lips and stared Michael up and down, making them squirm awkwardly on their barstool. Finally, as if she was delivering a life sentence, she imperiously said, “Well, we all have our different styles, I suppose! It would be quite boring if we were both exactly the same.” Michael nodded vigorously at this, and Helen held up a scaly claw. “But! You’re my intern, which means that you’re learning from the master here. So shut up and let me teach you how to ruin lives.”

“Yes, boss,” Michael said miserably. 

Helen tsked, but she patted them on the head anyway. It tasted like batteries. “Honestly, kid. A literal bleeding heart’s fun for the whole family, but a metaphorical bleeding heart will get you nowhere in life. You can’t exist as you are and feel bad for them. It ruins the point. It’s a paradox.”

“I thought we liked paradoxes, though?”

Helen shrugged, downing the rest of her wine. “Rules for thee but not for me, honey. But I’m a good boss and drunken aunt figure, so I’ll appease you today. Now come on, let’s convince this bar to vote for Brexit.”

They did. It was quite fun after all, tricking a roomful of people into doing something actively against their own interests. But something about the whole thing left a strange taste in Michael’s mouth: not the good kind of strange, or the bad kind of strange that was also good. Just strange, and undeniable, and something that couldn’t be exploited at all. 

****

Maybe Helen was right. 

Not that Helen was ever strictly right, much as Helen was never wrong, but Michael just had to be doing this whole fear demon thing incorrectly. If someone had explained the whole fear demon thing to them two years ago (“Okay, so it’s like you’re the semi-sentient appendage of an extradimensional force of evil that has to consume trauma relentlessly in order to propagate its own debatable existence, also you’re nonbinary now, no those things are not strictly related, probably”), then they would have called them crazy. Which, of course, they were, but that wasn’t the point. So long as the point existed. So long as anything -

Michael was a bad fear demon of the Spiral and Infinite Twisting and That Is Not What It Is and The Twisted Door, etc, etc, All Fear Its Name, etc etc all Hail, because they didn’t always like how their internal monologue could no longer be described through common language. Words and images and understandings were nothing but approximations for Michael now, and sometimes it was frustrating existing outside the boundaries of understanding. Which, of course, was the point, so long as the point existed, so long as anything existed -

It wasn’t always easy. Still, nobody ever got what they wanted if they weren’t willing to put the effort in. The adult world and labouring under capitalism wasn’t easy for anybody. That was what Mum had always said. Who was Michael to complain about their 9-5? Or 24/24? Or infinite/infinite? Or nothing/nothing? Or -

Was it too much to ask to have a linear thought once in a while? 

Helen wouldn’t understand. There were only two other approximations of concepts that Michael knew, and Helen would hardly be any help. The other “person” would probably be a better sounding board, but there was the fact that he was kind of pretentious. Still, it was better than nothing. Well, it was nothing, but only in the sense that everything was - argh!

A yellow door appeared in a nondescript basement, and Michael appeared with it. They melted out of the “wood”, taking a second to check their outfit for this apparition - a nice vintage 50s dress with a painstaking stitch that reminded one of the oppressive nature of housewifery, nice. They elongated their curly blonde hair from a roguish mop into a nice little shag and melted into the crowd. 

It must have been a passing period, because Michael was buffeted to and fro by tall white men wearing backpacks and shorter white girls hoisting strangely identical water bottles. Somewhere Northern, Michael decided, likely private and small. Not that it strictly mattered, but it helped to solidify their grip in reality a bit if they had some idea. They already knew geography was purposeless and a distraction from the real issues, like shrimp, but occasionally it could be useful. Helen had been careful to impart the central tenet of existence as a non-euclidean concept in undefinable space in the twenty seventh dimension: location, location, location!

It was obviously the Philosophy Department, because all philosophy classes were held in old basements built in the ‘60s in identical hallways. For kicks, Michael turned all of the school hallways inwards and sent them in a mobius strip, and changed all of the door numbers into a headache. The key to enjoying your job was to take initiative in the workplace environment and to just have fun with it!

Michael found themselves in front of a door identical to all of the others, with fake laminated wood, and they decided to go in. The universe had guided them to this door for a reason, and who were they to reject its call? 

The small classroom was like most other small, private colleges in unpopular departments that nobody cared about. Lots of single person desks - Michael snapped their fingers and turned them all into left-handed desks - complete with a smartboard and a teacher’s podium. It was already half-full, so Michael carefully slid into a chair in the back and pretended that they had been there all along. A student wandered close, convinced that this was her seat, but Michael successfully convinced her that a different seat near the front was hers, prompting an impromptu game of musical chairs that sent ripples through the otherwise sedate classroom.

There was a blond student already sitting in the front, flipping through a spiral notebook and clicking a pen in no particular pattern. He was wearing a pea coat, jeans, and his hair was weirdly perfect. Michael wished they had a notebook. Was this what you did in university? They had never had the opportunity to go. 

Actually, they had never quite graduated secondary - three months away from graduation, actually. It probably wasn’t all that important. You didn’t really need a diploma to become a trauma eating fear demon. Was there a university of eating fear? That would be funny. What would the classes be in, ‘Enforcing the Powerlessness of Capitalism 101’? What was the difference between that and a Business major? 

Maybe Business majors were the real fear demons, Michael thought grandly. It was a good thought, they would have to remember to tell it to Melanie later. Melanie would approve. Hadn’t Tim been a business major? Yeah, in that case she would definitely approve. 

The student sitting in the front seemed to have finally noticed the game of musical chairs, and as the professor started clearing their throat and announcing something unimportant to the class, he turned around to find Michael sitting in the back of the class. They waved cheerfully. The student scowled. 

‘What are you doing here!’, the guy mouthed angrily. 

‘Hi Mike!’ Michael mouthed back. 

‘Go away!’ Mike mouthed back. 

‘But I’m going to eat your teacher :(‘ Michael mouthed back. They didn’t actually frown. 

‘ >:(!’, Mike Crew mouthed back, also without changing his facial expression. 

This was probably why Mike wasn’t Michael’s biggest fan. Which was a pity, because Michael thought Mike was really cool. He had the coolest name, for one. But shorter, and snappier. Mike was the kind of name girls would call you at clubs. Michael was what, like, your Mum would say as she yelled at you to clean up your room before her book club girls came over. Why were they girls? They were, like, fifty.

Mike Crew was an Avatar of the Spiral completely unwillingly. Chosen as a child and chased throughout his life by an improbably long lasting Lichtenberg scar, he had eventually succumbed to the inevitable and transformed into an even more improbable man. Personally, Michael found it strange that ‘inevitable’ and ‘Spiral’ was in the same sentence, but - well, it had to be everything at one point. Even a melting clock was right once an endless twilight. 

Strangest of all, Mike Crew was a philosophy major. The class, of course, was a high level philosophy course. Mike Crew had been in uni - well, a while - and he tended not to waste his time with the boring shit anymore. Michael listened with interest as the professor dived into the lecture. 

Two minutes in, Mike subtly gathered his things and slipped into the conveniently empty chair next to Michael. He was still glaring at them, as Michael tried their best to look innocent and cute. The effect was a little ruined by the inherent maliciousness of Michael’s pores, but they liked to think it was the thought that counted. 

“To continue our conversation on the topic of paradoxes,” the professor began, “I’d like to introduce a few thought experiments for your consideration as a class. I’ll mention the concept, and then allow you to break into pairs to discuss them.”

Mike leaned into Michael’s ear. “We were discussing Descartes!”

“But isn’t this more interesting?” Michael asked. 

“If you give my professor a mental breakdown we’re going to fall behind on the syllabus!”

“The first paradox I’d like to bring to your attention is the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” The professor flipped to a new slide, which helpfully had a big crocodile on it. Michael admired it. They had seen a crocodile at the zoo once. “Similar to the liar’s paradox, the premise states that a crocodile, who has stolen a child, promises the parent that his or her child will be returned if and only if he or she correctly predicts what the crocodile will do next. The outcome is fairly obvious if the parent states that the crocodile will return the child, but the crocodile faces a dilemma if the parent states that the crocodile will not return the child. No matter the outcome, the crocodile is made a liar: if  the crocodile decides to not give back the child then the statement proves to be true, and he ought to return the child, thereby making it false. Whatever the outcome, he still violates his terms.”

Michael raised their hand. Mike forcibly lowered their hand. 

“If I give your professor a mental breakdown then you’ll have extra time for the test,” Michael whispered back. Mike seriously considered this notion.

“The next paradox is slightly related,” the professor continued. “The Infinite Hotel Paradox.” Michael’s face stretched into a grin as Mike Crew groaned. “It is demonstrated that a fully occupied hotel with infinitely many rooms may still accommodate additional guests, even infinitely many of them, and this process may be repeated infinitely often. This is what we call a veridical paradox: it leads to a counter-intuitive result that is provably true. Therefore -”

“Okay, yeah,” Mike Crew said, slumping in his seat. “You can eat him, this guy is just begging for it.” 

“Yay!” Michael went in for the hug, before Mike pushed them away. Michael’s quest for a cool big brother failed yet again. “Do you want to call the -”

“They’re your hallways,” Mike said, persnickety as always. Maybe he was just jealous that he wasn’t a hallway? 

Michael raised their hand, patiently waiting for the professor to call on them. He stumbled in the middle of his lecture, adjusting his thick glasses. 

“Uh, yes, Miss -”

“You no longer understand gender,” Michael said pleasantly, as they always did whenever they were misgendered. It was an understandable mistake, so they didn’t do it maliciously. Frankly, they just thought it was healthy. Everyone should not understand false things. “Professor, I have a question about the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” They waited for the professor to nod, somewhat confused. “How do you know that didn’t really happen?”

The professor blinked lethargically at them. “It’s a thought experiment. It’s not real, it’s just an idea proposed by philosophers to represent -”

“What makes you so sure?” Michael asked cheerfully. “Crocodiles eat babies. Or dingoes. I think I read a story about this happening in Australia, didn’t you?”

“I - I suppose I did, yes -”

“We wouldn’t talk about it if it didn’t really happen.” Michael felt their voice fall into a rising lilt, like an attractive song that was played to a concert hall but heard only by you. They were distantly aware of Mike lulling the rest of the students into their own hazy daze: aware enough to be confused, but trapped in their seats and the fog of misunderstandings. “Fiction isn’t real. Reality is real. But a thought experiment is in between, isn’t it? Something that strains the boundaries of reality, that proves the fundamental concepts of life, told through a framework of an intrinsic lie. A paradox is a lie telling the truth. You are a truth speaker telling only lies. What you know isn’t so much as anything at all, is it? What do you really know, anyway?”

“One of us tells only the truth and the other tells only lies,” Mike Crew called out, bored. But his eyes were shining in endless refraction, infinite rooms holding infinite guests. “But is it really a lie if you had mistaken it for the truth? What lies are you living, Dr. Young?”

Dr. Young was stammering, eyes swimming, and Michael didn’t dare to break eye contact. It was a delicate spell they wove, but Michael wasn’t so bad at bringing this simmer to a boil. Cooking was about improvisation, and Michael had always been great at that. 

“If your life is a lie,” Michael breathed, “then are you really alive?”

It was clear, when it happened: the professor started inhaling deep, deeper breaths, chest wracking with heaves. His eyes rolled up in his head, he clutched at his chest, and he finally slumped down on the floor. He twitched, jerking slightly, and he would continue jerking. At which point the students would become aware, and they’d call an ambulance for him, and he would be perfectly alright in the end. If a little mentally scarred. 

“Damn,” Mike Crew said, almost impressed, as both he and Michael stood up. He shoved his pens in a backpack, glad to be free of his examination for another week. “What’d you do to him?”

“Made him think he was dead,” Michael said serenely. “He thought his heart had stopped beating so he had a panic attack. He’s going to have to make an appointment with a psychiatrist but he probably should anyway, work’s very stressful for him.”

“Guess I have the rest of the hour off,” Mike sighed, as he held the door open for Michael so they could slip out of the back of the classroom. It was yellow, and a little strange.  “Want to grab a pint with me at the campus pub?” He paused a beat. “Wait, are you even old enough to drink?”

“I’m as old as eternity and reborn every second.” Michael paused a beat. “But I was eighteen last time I checked, and I’ll probably be eighteen for a while, so yes?”

“Great, let’s roll. I need a drink.”

****

Mike’s uni’s pub (Michael had asked the name of the uni but the information had, unfortunately, been lost in next Tuesday, so they’ll know then) was the exact opposite of the high class pub Helen had taken them to. Instead of glassy, shiny, and chromey, Mike’s pub looked strongly as if very many people had puked in it and the staff had tackled the problem somewhat half-heartedly. Michael enjoyed the sight of the puke existing in all points in time simultaneously, giving it a sort of weird yellow-ish shine. Actually, maybe all puke had that yellowish sheen?

When they asked Mike about it as they hopped up on the bar, he just sighed. He flagged the bartender down for a pint, and when the bartender squinted dubiously at Michael they revelled into the micro-confusion of ambiguous ages. Micro-feeding? Like mini muffins?

“Helen made a mistake hiring you. She’s stuck us with a perpetual teenager.”

“I’m as much a teenager as you are a uni student,” Michael said pointedly. 

“I’m not an embodiment of the It Is What It Isn’t Is,” Mike said, oddly aggressively. “I’m just a normal Avatar.”

“Fear demon.”

“Melanie King isn’t always right and I don’t know why everyone thinks she is.” Big words from an honored Special Guest on her show. There were many in the fear demon community who would kill for the honor. It was a good thing she hated intruders in her Archives - otherwise they’d never leave. “But I’m no different from - that douche Peter Lukas or that stoner Elias Bouchard or that btich Annabelle, okay? I’m just a guy. Who eats trauma. Plenty of guys do that.”

“Very good denial of reality!” Michael approved. “Normally Helen tells me to go further into denying reality as a concept, though.”

“God, you hallway people are impossible to have a normal conversation with.” Mike huffed, clearly not as irritated as his words would imply. Michael also approved of the incongruity. “I’m assuming that you’re here for absolutely no reason and that you have no idea why or how you ended up at my uni.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I am here for a reason.” At Mike’s extreme surprise, they hurriedly clarified, “Not with any goal, meaning, or intention in mind! But I just wanted to talk about something to someone who wasn’t technically another facet of my meaningless whole. Helen and I are as index and ring fingers on the same hand, but we don’t really get each other sometimes, you know?”

“Does that make you the pinky finger?”

“I actually had a hypothetical for you.” At Mike’s nod, Michael snagged a napkin from the stack on the sticky bar and began creasing it, somewhat anxiously. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you were a teenagerish nongendered sentient hallway intern who happens to eat trauma.”

“This isn’t much of a hypothetical,” Mike said flatly. 

“I’m a hypothetical person. And I’m only a person hypothetically.” Michael started making little folds in the napkin, twisting it up into a strange origami. “So, let’s say, hypothetically, that this person - their name is Michael - enjoyed being them. It wasn’t always fun, and sometimes they kind of missed the world making sense, or at least not making sense in a familiar way. And sometimes Michael got tired of being a sentient hallway and wanted to finish secondary. And maybe even sometimes Michael grows sad that both their parents were eaten by their new boss, who is kind of a Tory! But that’s all fine. Michael’s probably happier like this than they ever were even when they did have parents.”

Mike Crew stared at them a little, slowly sipping his pint. 

Michael hunched their shoulders, and folded up the napkin further and further. They had read somewhere that any piece of paper can only be folded seven times. They folded the napkin seven times, then eight, then nine, then ten. That was something nice about the way things were now, they supposed: no rules, absolute freedom. Only rules, no freedom. That was what Dr. Yung would call a paradox. “But maybe the worst part about this new job is that Michael doesn’t really like hurting people. Sometimes it’s fun to randomly make people very upset, and you always kind of end up doing it anyway, but after a while Michael feels kind of bad about it. Michael likes doing other things better, like making terrible roundabouts and rearranging the pages of books. Maybe they even like reading books. They like reading comic books backwards, from the last page to the first, so every panel is a surprise.”

“There’s lots of ways to be a fear demon,” Mike pointed out, almost gently. Maybe only because he could relate. “Look at me. I’m not feeding off anyone. Just myself.”

“But I like the way I do it,” Michael said, frustrated. “Helen keeps trying to get me to do it the way she does it, but the point is that we aren’t the same. What’s the point in having two of us if both our viewpoints are the same? We’re different in every way, but we’re the same being. I just want to be the Spiral the way I want. Not the way Helen wants.” Their voice lowered, almost unwilling to say what they were about to say. “Not the way the Spiral wants.”

Mike stared at them for a long time, slowly sipping his beer, and Michael focused their efforts on forcing this improbable napkin into something that could be beautiful. A lotus flower? A mobius strip? Or should they just let it happen as it happens, and see what form it decided to take? 

Finally, Mike said, “You are the Spiral.”

“Then why am I always disagreeing with it?” Michael asked miserably. 

“Why are you, Helen, and the Spiral always disagreeing?” Mike pointed out. “Maybe that’s the point. So much as anything’s a point. Isn’t it the most perfect paradox of all, to split yourself into portions that are always disagreeing and bickering? Maybe everything you’re feeling is on purpose. I mean, it’s kind of improbable that you’re feeling at all, right?”

“I retained a lot of humanity,” Michael said. “Maybe a bit too much, actually?”

“Right.” Mike nodded decisively. “Then that’s the appeal. A human mind will always strain against its confines. It will always want different, want the same, want the old and the new and the perpetual and the fleeting and the eternity and the moment. What’s more nonsensical than a human? What’s more contradictory than human nature?” A dark shadow passed over his face, just for a second. “The Spiral kidnaps us and turns us into it. One part of our minds is entrenched in its eternity, and another part is always screaming in agony. But predominantly we are the unholy mixture of human and Entity, oil forced into water. It’s so intrinsically horrifying and wrong that we just get used to it. We are both demon and human, and so we’re neither, and so we’re both. Isn’t it weird, Michael, that unlike so many other Avatars, none of us want to be here?”

“You’re a very philosophical person,” Michael said diplomatically. 

“Thanks, I think too much about my lot in life.” Mike Crew sighed, slumping on his barstool and knocking back more of his pint. “I wish you and Helen would stop showing up in my life so often. When you aren’t around, I can almost pretend I’m a person.”

“That’s why we show up,” Michael felt obligated to point out. 

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said glumly. “I always know. I can’t stop knowing.”

There was nothing Michael could say or do that fixed this, or that could make Mike feel better. They understood, just a little - that nostalgia for a kinder time. But maybe it was more that Mike never had those halcyon, innocent days. He had lived life since childhood in aching knowledge that his days were numbered. Maybe that’s why Mike was allowed to live life as a human even now: his human life was just as confusing and isolated as his afterlife, and that when fear stained every second of his life there was no point in ceasing it. 

Maybe Michael couldn’t keep their human life because they had been happy. At the very least, they had been ignorant. That was one thing the Spiral could not abide: ignorance. 

These days, Michael knew everything. They knew everything so, so much.

So, in lieu of comforting falsehoods, Michael offered Mike Crew a slightest sliver of truth. They passed Mike the little piece of origami that they had made, and let Mike cradle it in his large and smooth hands. 

The origami had no shape. It wasn’t folded into anything. It was just a meaningless amalgamation of points, corners, and creased paper. It didn’t look like anything at all. 

“See?” Michael pointed out. “It’s a bear.”

Mike Crew smiled weakly. “Looks like a sea goat to me.”

There was something beautiful in ambiguity. When something was nothing, it could be everything at once. That was rather Michael’s favorite thing about it. 

“I think it’s a self-portrait,” Michael decided. 

And that, at least, was as true as anything else. 

***

Michael wandered their hallways. 

On some level, they were pretty much perpetually doing that. Even as one facet of them talked with Michael in a campus pub, even as another helped Helen convince a high class pub into voting Brexit, even as they traumatized a physics professor, they wandered these hallways.

Make no mistake: everything in this story has/will/is happened/happening simultaneously.

Of course, on another level Michael was literally their hallways, and thus they were not so much wandering as existing. Pulsating, one could say. Even twisting, if one would be so bold. 

There was a mirror, in the hallway. Not a funhouse mirror - although Michael did enjoy popping out from those and scaring Nikola - but just a mirror. Gilded around the edges, ornate with swirling curlicues. You could see yourself in it. You could see a lot of yourself in it. It wasn’t what you had always looked like, not really, but you just had the sense that this was what you really looked like. Maybe you had always looked like this, and everybody was just too polite to tell you. Were you really a brunette? This mirror had to be right. You had been a blonde all along. Nobody had told you. They were laughing at you. They were laughing -

But this was Michael, and Michael’s, and nothing in here could harm them. It was even comforting. They looked at themselves in the mirror, and saw themselves same as ever. Or not same as ever. They were still Michael, so far as Michael was Michael.

Shortish. Blondey. Raggedy hair. Curled as much as anything’s curled. Fun clothing that they really enjoyed. Tall shoes, because they liked feeling tall. Similar dimensions to the golden number. Non linear, but who’s counting? It was what they typically looked like. 

But, just for a second, Michael even fooled themselves. They saw someone in the mirror that they were not, someone who they had never been, someone who they never will be. Someone different.

Michael, just like everyone else, couldn’t stop themselves from reaching out. Come back. Come back! Let me touch you, let me be you! Michael’s fingers brushed the shiny glass, and the world tilted sideways, and Michael fell into where the sidewalk ended.

They emerged, or maybe they had always been, inside a bedroom. It was a nice little suburban bedroom. It had a peaked ceiling and a window seat. The walls were a soft, navy blue. There was a young person, lying on the shag carpet, leafing through a book. Big headphones were over their ears, and they were bopping along to music. Disco. 

Michael stood, an intruder into a familiar space, and watched the stranger. Their throat felt oddly tight, and their eyes felt strangely hot. The stranger was smiling faintly, flipping the pages of their book somewhat mindlessly. They were reading it for school. Flatland. It was just an assignment, but it was really fucking them up. It was making them think about all of these things that they didn’t normally, in new dimensions. It was really cool. All of their friends were just reading the Sparknotes, but they really wanted to talk about it with someone. 

 This, of course, had happened. It will happen in the future. It was happening now, as Michael watched the scene with an electric sadness. It would never happen, because the Spiral had never been here, and never would be, and always was. 

A knock echoed on the door, several sharp raps. Michael didn’t notice, legs swinging to the music. 

The knock on the door hit louder. “Michael!” A voice echoed from behind it. “Michael, are you ready to go?”

Michael reached up and slid off their headphones, without looking up from their book. “Coming!” They called back. “Be right there!”

The Spiral watched Michael, who hummed absentmindedly as the door knocked again. Dad was downstairs, making sure the gas was off and shutting off the lights. Mum was knocking, knocking, knocking, on a door that was and will always be wood. 

“Have you packed yet?” Mum called. 

“Sure I have!” Michael yelled back, glancing at the empty suitcase on the bed and the messy pile of clothes right next to it. They pushed themselves up, flipping the book shut and rising to their feet. “Be right out!”

“Hurry up,” Mum called, as the Spiral mouthed the words along with her. “We’re going to be late!”

The Bermudas aren’t going anywhere, Michael thought spitefully. They stuffed their clothes haphazardly in a suitcase, took far more care to pack their laptop and DS, and shoved Flatland in a side pocket of their backpack. 

When Michael slung on his backpack, unfolded the handle from their suitcase, they were not even looking at the door they left through. They were entirely focused on managing the unruly suitcase, and walked straight through the crazed yellow door.

Of course, Michael walked out. Slightly stranger, a little better, a lot worse. Exactly the same. They were back in their hallways again, fresh from their little suburban bedroom and the child exiting one world and entering one quite different. Maybe one part of that child would always be in that bedroom, another part in these hallways, and another part always caught in that doorway and the transition. 

Simultaneously, in all points in time, Mum knocked on that wood door, and Michael never let her inside. Simultaneously, at all points in time, Michael watched it all happen.

They hadn’t expected it to be so comforting. At all moments in time, in a little corner of their heart, Mum knocked on their door. If the Spiral lived in your soul and beat your heart, it was easy to find the beauty in it - the magnificence of eternity, and the joy in the moment. Mum was with them - literally, as he was pretty sure Helen was still digesting her. Maybe nothing was ever truly over - just over there.  

Michael stuck their hands in their pockets, whistling a jaunty tune that highly resembled the Shepherd’s Tone. Their hallways pulsated comfortingly, and Michael carefully toed off their platform shoes and eyed down the infinite hallways. No rugs for a while. 

Maybe Michael, Mike Crew, and Helen should get together more often. Just the three of them. They would drive each other batty. It would be a lot of fun. 

Michael set off running down the hallway, and skidded on their socks down the hardwood floor, whooping in joy as they skidded endlessly towards eternity. 

[lifeofroos]

Part 71. The epilogue, if you want. 

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, it has been a few years since their last session when they meet again. 

 AO3 - FanFiction.net - KoFi

This Might Be Crazy Chapter 71: Red wine

‘To think it has been nine years since we last saw each other...’

‘It would explain why you suddenly look like an adult.’

‘Wel, I was already an adult when I left.’

Dionysus shook his head while he pulled back his restaurant chair. ‘When your Twenty-two, you’re not really an adult. People only tell themselves that.’

‘And people who are thirty-one are adults?’

‘Barely.’

I snickered and sat down myself.

‘I wanted to know how you were doing, after all that time.’

I put my hands on the table. ‘I am doing alright, I think.’

‘You think?’ He peered at my wedding ring. I failed to hide a smile. 

‘I know,’ I corrected myself. ‘I know I am doing alright. Eh, and yes, I am still with Will Solace.’ I drummed on the table with my left hand.

‘You put a ring on it, even.’

‘Yes.’ I blushed a little. ‘So… that’s good.’

‘It sure sounds like it’s good.’

A waiter came over to out table. After he asked what we wanted, Dionysus gave him a smile. ‘Two glasses of wine.’ 

My mouth fell open. ‘Are you allowed to do that?’

‘It’s more the question if you are allowed to drink it.’

‘I am thirty-one. Yes, I am.’

He winked, as the waiter walked away. 

‘What does this mean?’ I asked. 

‘I am not released, if that is what you are implying. Yet, I…’ He narrowed his eyes, ‘...I don’t know if you heard the news…’

‘The news about you raising hell on Olympus after it leaked that Zeus manipulated the evidence that got you punished…’

‘Exactly....’

‘Because you rose up against the lord of the heavens, you had to stay in camp Half-blood, but you did gain certain privileges.’

‘I only have to be there during the summer, and Ariadne gets to visit. Which means she’s basically a second director at this point.’ 

‘What are you doing with all this extra time you suddenly got? Did you consider getting a job at a year-round camp?’

‘Thin ice, Nico.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Wouldn’t be you without it.’ I snickered. ‘Care to tell me what you do during the day?’

‘It changes. Right now, I work at a secundary school as a mental health counselor and an Italian language teacher. Sometimes I do some work for my father, when he needs help with the other death gods. Yet, that might be different if we ever meet again.’

‘Uh-huh.’ 

‘The Italian teacher part was Gloriana’s idea. We still go to the di Angelo’s every Easter. And to the Solace’s every Christmas.’

The waiter came over, with our glasses. I trailed my hand over mine. ‘After I left college, you told me I should come call if things got to bad. I am sorry I never did, but it never felt necessary.’

‘On one hand not needing me is a lie you tell yourself, on the other, that’s good, Nico. I take it that you learned enough in those seven years to be mentally healthy for a good chunk of your life.’

I snickered. ‘I think so, too. Then you did the job you had to do, right?’ 

He nodded. ‘Perhaps a little too well. Don’t forget that the other part of my job is madness.’

‘I haven’t.’ I took a sip. ‘Do you know what Mary is up to these days?’

‘She’s a designer with a few of her own shops.’

‘That’s a big step up from Fast food employee.’

‘Literally everything is. Her son’s okay, too. He goes to a high-end school somewhere in high-end America.’

‘As we always said: Perhaps the gods did bless him.’

‘Oh, Perhaps they did, yes.’

I held a hand under my chin. ‘And how are you, Dionysus?’

‘You don’t have to ask me.’

‘I am asking you, though. If I can say it: It amazes me that you haven’t changed. Not physically. I knew you wouldn’t have, yet part of me expected you to look like… fifty. Not still somewhere between twenty and thirty. People probably think I am older than you now.’

Dionysus shrugged. ‘I prefer this form to anything else.’

‘I understand, but it’s still weird.’

‘And now?’

I blinked and looked back. He didn’t look much different to me. ‘You shouldn’t drive me insane during a check-up.’

‘Not?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘I can’t remember that you tried to pry open my brain in the past. And I think I had enough therapy during my teens.’

‘Then it’s as you said: I did my job.’

‘Yes, yes, but you haven’t answered my question yet...’

‘Dad?’ I felt someone tug on my leg. A little girl was looking up at me and - oh crud, it was my little girl. 

‘Anita!’ I stood up and I picked up my daughter. I looked around. ‘Where’s dad? The other one?’

‘There!’ She pointed to Will, who looked a little confused. ‘I thought you said you would be going to the other side of town...’

I did, you just can’t trust the god of madness to stick to your rules. I turned to Dionysus. ‘Anita. Our daughter.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Yes.’ I began to grin. ‘It’s like with Ernest. As if she was blessed, or something.’

‘She may have been.’ He got up from the table. ‘And to answer your question, Nico: It’s difficult to call an immortal life good or bad. Right now, I’d say it’s good enough. Good enough because I’ve got my domain, I’ve got my freedom and I’ve got my wife, which proves to be all I need. I hope that answer gives you the mental rest you wanted.’

‘I does.’

‘I’ll still come when you call.’ 

‘I’ll remember that. And thanks, Dionysus…’ 

He was already gone. ‘Thanks,’ I whispered. A warm feeling spread through my body. It might have been the wine, it might have been a sign that he heard me, but then again, what was the difference?’ 

Will put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Sorry...’

‘No, that was perfectly fine.’

He snickered. ‘How was that?’

I hugged Anita close. ‘Still alright,’ I said, while stroking her hair.

A/N: Almost all the time, I had seventy chapters, until it STILL became 71. A last chapter will follow tomorrow, to tell you my thoughts on writing, say my thanks, that work. 

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 8: A Sour Deal

After a full day of preparation, training and anything that shouldn't take less than 24 hours to do, the "Dionysian Games" were ready as soon as the sun rose. Which is when Apollo discovered, his brother was at it again.

Apollo rode his chariot arcross the sky, toting the sun along for the day to begin. To him it was just part of his daily schedule, as he glanced over, looking down on Delphi. "Wait a minute....isn't it early in the year for the games to start?", the thought stewed in his head for only a few seconds when it suddenly dawned on him the Olypmic games, in deed DID NOT, take place in Delphi. He looked down and was shocked to see that Dionysus broke his promise, "as soon as I'm done with the sun, I'm going to give Dionysus the dressing down of the millennia!", he angrily told himself.

Back in Delphi, the Delphians were preparing for the games. The teams have been set up into 5 large groups, in Delphian fashion, no can tell which team is which. Being a mock-Olympics game, there was nothing to worry about representing a country or anything, so it was just harmless fun. There was no prizes outside of bragging rights.

Meanwhile, Dionysus attempts to get a hold of Ares for the joust. Communication between the gods was always complicated considering that the gods communicate better humans than they do themselves. In Dionysus's case, the best way to get in touch with Ares...was to get him to come to you via the most complex ritual involving two of his favorite things: Aphrodite and dogs. He knows for the best results, he had to do the ritual in private.

Dionysus prepares the ritual at an effigy made to resemble Ares he had created the night before. As it turns out he woke up in morning remembering that he hadn't even talked to Ares about the joust. Using a small puppy he borrowed from one of the farmers and a plate of extra rare steaks, lights some candles and places a sensual picture of Aphrodite. ".....Come on Ares. Come out.", Dionysus spoke to the effigy, he waited a few seconds for anything to happen but nothing did. "Oooookie dokie, I'm just going to "enjoy" myself with this really sexy picture of Aphrodite", Dionysus taunted the effigy hoping it would get his attention. He takes the picture of Aphrodite and slowly hovers it near his groan, as he was about to even let the picture touch, the loud thunderous sound of an explosion echos outside of his winery shed. "Aaaaaand just in time." he grinned from ear to ear, now with the star of his joust just outside his door, he could finally get the event going. He walks to the door, opens it and sees Ares nearly towering over him with the biggest frown he's given so far.

Ares quickly gabbed the photo from Dionysus. "Ok you fat fuck what do you want?" He growled. He looked behind Dionysus to see the crudly made effigy, pushed him aside to at least eat some steak and make sure the dog was ok.

Dionysus didn't expect much from Ares outside of agreeing to joust. "So buddy, ugh I was wondering....you don't having any plans this afternoon do you?" Dionysus nonchalantly asked. He turned to see Ares chewing on the steak with his bear hands while sharing his steak with the puppy. "I know you're ugh.... busy man....but I know you're going to.love this." He continued.

Ares wasn't much for Dionysus's brand of fun unless it resulted in copious amounts of bloodshed. In fact, most of the time when he would come to Dionysus, it was mostly to get wine or get drunk before certain battles. He was skeptical, but than again there really wasn't any current wars he could participate. It had seemed the entire country was focused on other matters, so indeed he was very much bored. "Wut is it?" He spoke with a full mouth.

Dionysus grinned, "well... would you like to joust with me? For my little 'games'? I mean, I know it isn't much....buuuuuut the people will love it."

Ares was interested but not convinced yet. A joust wasn't going to satisfy him enough, there had to be more to it. "Ok....what's in it-", he swallows his mouthful of steak,"- for me?", He asked as took another bite of meat, giving a little piece to the puppy again.

Scratching his head at what could Ares possibly want, "well...I know that if I win...I just win. After all, the audience likes it when the local god wins right?", Dionysus bargained. "I mean, it's not much but that all depends on what you want, big guy.", he knew Ares wouldn't be creative enough to want something outside of anything material or in some cases bragging rights.

Ares paused to think of the best way to painful screw Dionysus over. He thought of how Dionysus prided himself for his wine, but what was a god of wine going to do with wine. He remembered Dionysus's love for his big cats, he could always get Dionysus to kill his precious leopards, but no....he wants something far more precious. "How about this...." he lightly scratched the puppy behind it's ears, "...if I win, I get to be the local god and keep Delphi, you stand down...aaaaaand I fuck your wife.", he said through a menacing smile.

The mischievous grin that Dionysus sported had died into a panicked look, "wait wait hold on man, this is for fun." he responded hastily. Never would he have expected Ares to actually name such conditions. "Seriously, you can't just take my town and my wife if you win, that's....just fucked up....plus NO, I refuse to agree to those terms.....", Dionysus was flustered, what started out as an innocent challenge between brother quickly escalated into something a little more mean spirited.

Ares stood there looking at Dionysus, mildly disappointed that he wouldn't agree to what he believed was completely reasonable terms, "ok whatever drama queen, than I'm leaving.", he walked out of the shed. "Fucking wasting my time with your little circus act and shit. I mean I thought you liked having fun, whatever I guess you're too much of a pussy." he continued.

As much as the ownership of Delphi, the safety of the residents and his wife's honor was at stake, he couldn't just let Ares walk out from the joust. He didn't care about why or what Ares thought of him in the second, he was already too deep into the situation given not only he was not allowed to sleep in his own bed until after the Dionysia, but he disappointed Ariadne with his stubborn attitude. "Hold on, ok if you're going to play "Mr.Edgelord", than if I win......I become the new god of war aaaaaand...you have to wear a dress....for an hour and I will NEVER let anyone forget that", unlike the rest of the brothers, Ares was too prideful of his masculinity to ever wear a dress and the idea of his title as "The God of War" would also be a stake. This was too juicy of a bet. Dionysus's whole world was either going to include the chaotic attributes of war....or he was going to lose everything.

In mid-step, Ares turned around, his button has definitely been pushed, but the challenge was too irresistible. "Now you're talking fun.". He walked up to Dionysus, took his arm and gave it a sportsmen's shake. "Fine, I'll join your little circus. When...and where?", he stared down Dionysus hoping to throw him off even before the joust.

Dionysus wasn't really sure what Ares was doing and why was he staring at him for so long, but now he had to put up some effort in the joust, perfect for a performance. "Ha, you're on...just ugh go over there in the meantime...chill...I don't know it will be hours before we do it.", he informed. He pointed at tent in a field that was overlooked by the winery shed, it was prepared for the participants of the games, which was loaded with all the essentials any Dionysian needed.

Glaring at the overly lavished tent on the field, then his glance glazes over the rest of the field, it really was a bit like a circus. Ares takes a deep breath, rethinking if it would be worth winning given he will have to wait for a few hours before the joust, than be remembers he gets to turn this land into a training ground for an army fit for a king. "Ok.....do...you have anything I can do?", he asked.

He looked at Ares and said in a serious tone, "if you're planning on lifting bro, you're shit out of luck....you can....drink, you can.....fuck.....you can......eat.....you can take naps.....some of the folks are doing improv....I mean THATS something you do....I don't know. Just....relax or something.", Dionysus knew nothing worsened Ares's mood then a lack of exercise and anything he liked. "Aaaalso there is only wine.", he added. If Ares was going to be serious about his wager, he needed to insure that Ares was going to lose.

"Dude...that's ..... fucking lame.....I'm just going to take laps, can't wait to fuck your wife.", Ares left without saying another word. Dionysus was a bit floored, but the day was young and there was plenty of time to make sure he would win the joust. He was about to run to find some of his more "violent" maenads when he heard someone shout his name from the field.

"DIONYSUS YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!", it was Hermes, he ran through the field, up the hill passing Ares (who apparently didn't even notice him) and right up to Dionysus. "Ok holyshit you're never going to guess what me and Artemis found a few days ago! I was going to tell you about it but I had to find dad and I can't find him than I had to run around Greece looking for him an-" he felt Dionysus placing his hand on his head in attempts to calm him down.

Dionysus unfortunately wasn't in the mood to hear Hermes, but he was in the mood to ask him for help. "Hermes.......I've made a horrible miscalculation.", he told him, looking at Ares angrily uses a log to do bench presses. ".....I got what I wanted...but my....fucking self....I am in quite a pickle.".

Hermes was still processing all he has been doing the past four days, but somehow he had to know what happened. ".....what....are you talking about?", he calmly asked. He looked at the field, than looked at Ares, than he looked at Dionysus. "Why is there a circus in front of your house?", he can see Dionysus's face.

Taking a deep breath, "Hermes do you remember that time I joked about the idea of me and Ares.... jousting or something?", Dionysus asked.

"ugh....yes I think.", Hermes was now starting to worry if there is something even worse than semi-immortal wolf people. "But seriously man there's some weird fucked up things happening.", he continued.

Dionysus chuckled a little, "well....I hope you're ok with cheating. I really need your help.", he looked at Hermes in hopes he knows he serious. Hermes however, whom just arrived, is getting a terrible feeling there will be hijinks.

End of Chp8

[minbbydoll]

— BTS (Yandere)WIP

・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・  

Oneshots and small series: 

J.JK

➝ Factionless 

↳ Pairing : Yandere Divergent! Jungkook x Divergent!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff, action, adventure

↳ Summary : You’ve always been the type of person to go explore or doing something that gets your blood pumping or help out the factionless, you’re a smart person and like to think outside the box and you’ve always been honest with people but that doesn’t work well when you live with your family in amity. You’ve never been able to stop yourself from doing things an amity wouldn’t and you’re about to find out why.

➝ Bunny-ya 

↳ Pairing : bunny hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : No one asks to be born, they don’t get to choose who their parents are nor do they get to choose what kind of life they have. Jungkook certainly didn’t want to be born as an experiment, to cater to his master’s every whim. What happens when Jungkook disobeys, when he runs away, when he finds you.

➝ Ozone 

↳ Pairing : Mafia!Jungkook x Female!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, and fluff

↳ Summary : You and Jungkook had met when you moved from your country to Korea, you were still young but Jungkook was there for you, even though he was awkward towards girls he was still super sweet towards you. You loved him and he loved you but when a new student comes will Jungkook still love you and treat you like he always did? 

➝ The smile that you gave

↳ Pairing : Jungkook x Female!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, and fluff

↳ Summary : You two have known each other since you were children; having parents with influence helped the two of you seeing each other so often. You and Jungkook have been in love with each other for so long Jungkook knowing longer than you but why are there so many obstacles preventing you both from being together. 

K.TH

➝ Little sister

↳ Pairing : Stepbrother!Taehyung x Stepsister!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You came back home from school to find your brother gone and you were left alone with your father. You felt nothing but anger towards your brother but you still love him, even if you had to deal with your father all alone.

➝ Scenery 

↳ Pairing : Photographer!Taehyung x Traveling!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You enjoyed the little things in life being from a small town you learned to not waste a single moment in life, you learned to live in the moment and not care about the past or present but that all stops when you get diagnosed with cancer. You decided to not let it hold you back and now you’re on a journey to live life to the fullest. 

P.JM

➝  Pied piper

↳ Pairing : Badboy!Jimin x Perfectionist!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You were raised to be perfect, everyone adores the floor you walk on yet you don’t seem to notice. Jimin wasn’t really raised at all, he’s only ever caused trouble and constantly moved around because of it and now that he’s met you, everyone’ll find out just how far from perfect you really are.

J.HS

➝ Remember me

↳ Pairing : Dance instructor!Hoseok x Idol!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : Being an idol is hard enough but when a sasaeng of yours hits you with a car hard enough to give you memory loss are you really aware of the world’s cruelty. Hoseok is trying so hard to get you to remember him and he won’t ever give up on you but when your sasaeng makes him out to be the bad guy there’s only so much he can do.

M.YG

➝ So far away

↳ Pairing : Underground rapper!Yoongi x University student!Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff 

↳ Summary : Min Yoongi is an underground rapper, it’s something he’s always wanted to do but he doesn’t have any support, that’s where you come in. Your friend dragged you to her brother’s rap battle where you see Min Yoongi, being a university student you have to choose your career path but you don’t have a clue as to what you want to be, that’s where Min Yoongi comes in. 

K.SJ

➝ Dionysus 

↳ Pairing : God of wine!Seokjin x low class!reader

↳ Genres : Smut, fluff, angst(maybe)

↳ Summary : Seokjin has never been one to break rules, he does what he’s told and nothing else except one night his curiosity gets the better of him and he sneaks down to earth. He runs into you a low class citizen and he is captivated by you, unable to stop staring at your beautiful e/c irises. 

K.NJ

➝ Greater than

↳ Pairing : Yandere Student president!Namjoon x New girl!Reader 

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : Namjoon has always been better than everyone, he’s always been first in class but he’s always felt like there’s something missing. You are a top student in Ilsan’s top academy but get transferred to Seoul to go against the best of the best. Namjoon feels a spark of emotion when he sees you and he knows he needs to have more of these emotions, he realizes what’s missing from his life and it’s not one thing but two; you and emotions. 

Rap Line

➝  Spring Day

↳ Pairing : Reader x Yoongi, Reader x Namjoon, Reader x Hoseok 

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You met three silly boys separately and you caught their eye the only problem is you were in Seoul only for the spring. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi came to meet each other and when they would talk it would only be about that special girl they met when they were 6 on a warm spring day. It’s now winter when you come to their university and they find out their ‘girls’ that they’re in love with is not multiple different girls but one single girl. 

Vocal Line

➝ Unspeakable sincerity 

↳ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Seokjin x Reader, and Jimin x Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : Up in a castle lived four men unable to be near society, they locked themselves away only allowing staff to come in and even then they all hid away. You thought the castle was abandoned when you found a beautiful garden and you came to the garden for the view trying to get away from society yourself. One day you’re caught by four men but when you’re shot down by a guard and they make a deal with the devil to get you back do they realize how much you mean to them.

OT7

➝ Hanahaki/Wither away 

↳ Pairing : BTS x Reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You go to a bts fanmeet and somehow manage to hold the eyes of all 7 of the members, hanahaki is believed to be a fiction but soon the 7 members and you realize how real and powerful the myth of hanahaki really is.

➝ You saved me, so I’ll save you

↳ Pairing : BTS x Reader

↳ AU : Zombie

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You were so excited to finally meet your favorite band but unfortunately just as you get to one BTS member all eight of you seem to be in a scary situation.

J.JK & K.SJ 

➝ Scum’s wish

↳ Pairing : Jungkook x reader & Seokjin x reader

↳ Genres : Angst, smut, fluff

↳ Summary : You are head over heels in love with Kim Seokjin; one of your older childhood friends and new teacher at your school, which is why you hate the other new teacher Lee Ji-eun; your love rival. Jungkook hates Seokjin for the exact same reason, which is why he approaches you.

↳ A/N : Theses summaries suck but I wanted to share some of my wips because I’m really excited to write them. I have more wips but these are a few I wanted to share and get feedback about. So far I only have series and some of the summaries aren’t 100% accurate because I’m still planning but enjoy looking over them anyway. 

[ivy-kissobryos]

Oh my gosh I have the same name!! (recently chosen it as I felt it was a better fit) And I have the same deck you use!!! 😅 How long have you been doing your craft?

Hi! Do you happen to be a Critical Role fan too or is the jester in your url a reference to something else? Because for me, I came across the name Vesper through Critical Role (as Percy’s dead sister lmao). I’ve been using Vesper as an alias online for a while but never included it into my magical practices until I got into astrolatry based on the Buddhist reverence of the planets who are deified like Phra Sao (arguably the Thai Buddhist equivalent of the Hindu Shani Dev) and Phra Rahu etc.

Aside from the Buddhist astrolatry, I also began practicing (Hermetic) planetary magic. That is when I got committed seriously to my path as a witch (through doing spells and rituals) and a pagan (through my astrolatry and deity worship that eventually developed into polytheism). So, adopting Vesper as my magical name - not just some internet alias - became natural, as Vesper is also the name of an evening star, fitting with how much I’ve been working with the stars.

As some other people have been DMing me wanting to know more about my craft too, I’ve written more info on my journey so far under the cut. But a quick answer to how long I have been practicing my craft is: I’ve been studying magic/energy work/spirituality since middle school and got serious in high school. Now, I’m (hopefully) about to graduate university next year. You can do the math 😁💗

I’m from Thailand, which is quite an animistic and superstitious country. I was raised a Buddhist, and if you include folk magic into my craft then arguably I’ve been practicing since I was very, very young as I was taught to respect and negotiate with the land spirits, to worship the deified stars and revere the ascended souls of my ancestors. But it didn’t truly connected until I came across those ‘New Age’ spirituality in middle school. I began getting into meditation, trying to get into contact with my spirit guides and my higher self and all that jazz. (Not going to lie, half of the stuff you see on the internet is bullshit though so don’t trust everything you read). Still, my spirit communication skills was horrendous too so I couldn’t sense much, but then I started doing the energy cleansing and shielding practices and was surprised when I felt something.

By early high school I discovered Tumblr and Witchblr. By late the time high school/early university came along, magic was definitely real to me, and I began doing spells and sigils. Most of my craft back then was quite eclectic. I remembered @malachitelibrary’s blog really helping me out when I was playing around with energy work and began reading up on ritual magic for the first time (although it would be years later until I actually attempted anything vaguely ceremonial or risky... and if you’re reading this Jelly, this isn’t my main blog but your kindness really did went a long way to help me, so thanks).

Even though I was a baby witch, I was still serious about my craft and determined to learn.

Then real life happened. Long story short, I was suicidal towards the end of high school because of reasons. Many people do turn to the mystical forces for guidance when things get rough, and I did the same except Buddhism didn’t cut it for me. The Buddhism I grew up with was all about peace, and karma and temperance and balance, but the justice I sought was the kind that borderlines on vengeance. I felt like I was owed better, I deserved better. In the end, I turned to paganism and used witchcraft to bring power back into myself.

In terms of paganism, I had worked and still occasionally work with Phra Sao/various aspects of Saturn. I also tried to branch out and revere Persephone, as Hellenic paganism is an open religion and I felt a kinship with her. I also became interested in the Hermetic views of planetary magic (such as those described within the Seven Spheres by Rufus Opus) and began mixing that with my astrolatry. With regards to witchcraft, my practice turned more ‘traditional’. The university I study at is located in Devon, UK. The area of Devonshire and Cornwall is simply brimming with magic, both historically and in the present day. So, I began reading the books written by Gemma Gary and read up on the works of Cecil Williamson and the likes. Yet, perhaps it was homesickness or my ancestors calling me back, I soon turned my attention back to the folk magic of South East Asia where my blood stems from, and to this day I am still researching and learning.

It wasn’t until my grandmother died though that my pagan worship changed slightly. Saturn - who signifies change - and Persephone - who is the Queen of the Underworld - did helped me, especially through some rough family and social changes that occurred soon after my grandmother passed. But I kept feeling like my prayers were being listened to yet the answers no longer forthright, that I was being pushed away, like they wanted me to speak to someone else. I sought help from another diviner and they basically pointed the way towards Dionysus.

I thought they were deluded, initially. Dionysus? Do I look like some party animal who’d worship a party god? But then I did some research on Dionysus, found out about how he’s twice or thrice born, how he is technically also a chthonic deity and a god of transformation (being reborn, dead grapes becoming wine etc). The more I read about how he had to prove his divinity multiple times, how historically his followers composed of the marginalized who were at the fringes of Greek society, the tales of him rescuing Semele and loving Araidne, the more I felt connected with him.

And then came the proof. I introduced myself to Dionysus, gave some offerings and decided to do some tarot. I have done readings for friends irl that they have resonated with. However, it wasn’t until I used @servantofthefate’s technique of invoking deities when divining that I had a breakthrough. After invoking Dionysus, no longer did I just receive messages from my tarot, I was able to converse with them. The messages I received were richer too, and connecting to my clients became easier. I began giving constant offerings and making prayers almost daily, and the connection strengthened, becoming more solid day by day.

So, I devoted myself to him.

As you can see, I am not extremely old, experienced or wise, but I do have a treasure trove of hard earned lessons which I have learnt from, along with various esoteric knowledge I have studied through considerable research and readings. Hopefully, I can share them with you so you may grow alongside me  🌹 🌹

[twatd]

Getting TWATD at the Wake, ii: The Eulogies

Every month, two writers returned to this blog. They did an essay each. For five years. And now it’s all over.

The Wicked + The Divine #45 came out a month ago, and we’re still at the metaphorical wake. In this part, we pick out two characters we haven’t written much about, consider the paths their lives ended up taking, and write their obituaries. It could get emotional.

Spoilers for... well, for the entirety of WicDiv, I guess, below the cut.

Tim: Endings are bittersweet things at the best of times, and for a series as preoccupied with death and heartbreak as The Wicked + The Divine, we were never going to reach a conclusion without shedding a few tears. Still, there are many ways in which #45 is a happy ending for several of the characters – and that’s truer for Aruna, the god formerly known as Tara, than possibly anyone else.

Looking across the span of the series as a whole, she is a character who has suffered abuse, indignity and manipulation. But here at the end, Aruna is free from many of the troubles that plagued her life both before and during her time as a god. I don’t know if the Aruna we see in 2055 is living her best life, but it seems infinitely better than we could have expected after #13, the issue which gave us a painful glimpse into a character who had remained a mystery up to that point.

Pre-Godhood, Aruna had been made to feel uncomfortable in her own body by sexism and misogyny. That feeling was amplified by her divine transformation and the increased celebrity that came with it, culminating in her begging Ananke for the mercy of death. But Ananke’s manipulation accidentally set up Aruna to transcend the cruelties inflicted upon her. As a miraculously preserved head, she was free from the burden of her body, and free to reinvent herself.

With the help of Jon, Aruna she was able to reject a new form when she wasn’t ready for one – and, once she was, to create one that existed beyond the constraints of traditional biology. Her story touches on themes of transhumanism, not an area that WicDiv has traditionally dabbled in, but one that has some interesting connections with the themes of people seeking immortality. As you might expect given the ideas of gender and bodily autonomy at play, it’s also easy to read through a queer lens.

I’m glad that, while it’s clear Jon and Aruna have developed a close partnership over the years, Gillen and McKelvie chose to leave the exact nature of their relationship open to interpretation.

Aruna’s previous discomfort with the spotlight, and Ananke’s subsequent exploitation of that fact, also ended up benefitting her in other ways. Her distance from the rest of the Pantheon meant she avoided jail time after the events of #44 (it probably helped that it’s hard to handcuff someone when they’re just a head).

You could also maybe draw a line between the sudden outpouring of appreciation following Tara’s death and the way she was able to successfully campaign for the Pantheon’s early release, performing benefit concerts and raising awareness. This goes some way to colouring the previously devastating ending of #13 in a new light, as the insincere chorus of Twitter observers become a platform Aruna is able to use for good.

There’s an important distinction, though – this time around, she was able to approach a musical career and fame on her own terms, as Aruna rather than Tara. Also, the fact that her ‘death’ wasn’t a permanent one doesn’t take away from the tragedy of it, or how the comic made us complicit in the culture that led to it.

Aruna’s story following her ‘death’ could be called WicDiv’s ultimate triumph. The old truism about suicide being a permanent solution to a temporary problem feels especially apt here. Ananke took someone who was miserable and vulnerable, and proceeded to place them in a situation that they couldn’t cope with. Ananke became Aruna’s sole source of ‘support’, isolating her from the other gods, amplifying her insecurities until Aruna felt the only solution was to take her own life.

Strip away some of the details, and the story starts to take on some truly dark parallels, but unlike so many real-life stories, there is a second act to Aruna’s tale.

Once the true nature of Ananke’s plans are revealed, Aruna is eventually able to escape her role in them, retake control of her life, and eventually thrive on her own terms. WicDiv may be a story that largely approaches death as a firm reality, but by giving Aruna a reprieve from her seeming demise, it allows us a glimpse of a real happy ending, in amongst the more complex feelings the final issue evokes.

Alex: Aruna’s story is a happy one because she escapes the cycles that life locked her into. But the god I want to talk about, I’m not sure they ever did. Which might not be a terrible thing – it was always a little different, with Dionysus.

We don’t get much time with Umar before he goes all Olympian, but the moments we do get suggest there’s less of a gap between his two identities than there is for most of the other gods. He’s the guy who drives his friends down to London so they can get wasted on the way, who asks sensitive questions of strangers.

When he becomes Dionysus, the difference is mainly a question of scale. The group of people he’s trying to do right by gets bigger and bigger, and that makes this behaviour unsustainable. That first time we meet him, in issue #8, we get pretty much the whole Dionysus story. Dude takes on everyone else’s troubles, exerts himself to make them feel better, and makes it look breezy – only occasionally cracking and showing the weight of it all.

I’m not sure that ever really changes for Umar. He keeps using his powers to make people happy for a night, even as it starts to take a toll. He waits in the darkness, lets The Morrigan attack him, just to be there for Baphomet. He has faith in the power of the crowd, even as they crush him. He just keeps giving and giving, and it lands him in a coma.

This is Dionysus’ hamartia – the fatal flaw built into every one of WicDiv’s gods, the thing that ensures their downfall. As these things go, it’s not a bad flaw to have.

It marks him apart from the other gods. Gillen has talked about the Pantheon all being aspects of himself, his own flaws built out into characters, people he’s trying not to be anymore. But Dionysus’ flaw actually makes him someone to aspire to.

A spare Gillen quote from my Polygon interview that didn’t make it into the final article: “Umar is someone I'd love to be now… But Umar's a fictional character. Therefore, it's easier for him to be Umar than for Kieron to not be a shithead.” Even in the comic, we see how Dio’s behaviour is unsustainable – but to try and live that way, all of the time, in real life? It’s impossible.

I say this with authority, because in many ways I spent my twenties trying to be a Dionsysus. I’m an Inanna by nature – a pleasure seeker who tries to be kind but can sometimes forget that having the best possible time can have consequences on the people around them. (And, sidenote, it’s a fascinating twist on the archetypes that the god with these traits isn’t the one who, y’know, gave us the word bacchanalian.)

But, to be uncharacteristically nice about myself for a second, my idea of having a good time does tend to include bringing as many people along with me as possible. The version of me I like is the one who always opens up the circle on the dancefloor to sweep up strangers and stragglers. Or spot someone who seems left out and work to change that. Or pour hours into a project that’ll be seen by just a handful of friends, or just one.

I kind of buried that person this year.

This wasn’t an active choice, or something I was even conscious of doing at the time, but looking back I can see the reasons behind it. Firstly, because it’s not always clear whether people actually want these things done for them, or if it’s an unwelcome overreach, and that thought makes me to want up curl into myself and just die. And second, because I’m not good at knowing how to apportion effort, meaning it can involve frankly life-damaging amounts of preparation for very little payoff.

It’s not a sustainable way to live. Dio might be the best possible version of the WicDiv god, but he’s still someone sacrificing his self to become an idea. It kills him, eventually, and #37 shows how he’s remembered for it by the public, the people he gave everything he had to: ‘that guy on drugs’.

But eventually he is repaid by one of the recipients of his kindness, as a little bit of that selflessness rubs off on Baphomet. And Umar joins the rest of the Pantheon as they step back from their defining flaw, allow themselves to become more than an archetype. “I thought it was my job to save everyone,” Dionysus says, and I cry my little eyes out.

Maybe that was the moment I started to realise I’d been stepping back from that version of myself. Or maybe it was talking with Tim (my other, non-fictional model for the sort of person I want to be) about issue #45, when he explained how he read the older Umar: someone in whom all that kindness turned a little bitter. Aged like vinegar, not wine.

My reading is more hopeful than that, I think. The final issue trades in hints and suggestions of lives, but with Umar more than most. And personally, I fill in that blank with a different story: someone who has tempered his need to always put others first, and become more judicious about when and how and to whom he gives himself. And that? That is someone I’d really like to be.

[toutorii]

Broken Pieces Chapter 3

Warnings: Mild language. Small mention of abuse. Unedited writing. 

Broken Pieces Masterlist

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Once we escorted Percy to where Chiron and Mr. D were, I had to go help someone in the infirmary.

"Good luck kiddo," I whispered to Percy. The poor thing looked terrified. I walked to the infirmary, only to be greeted by Luke Callestan.

"The hell did you do this time, Luke?" I asked.

"I fell off of a pegasus." He answered sheepishly.

I shook my head and treated his wounds.

"So, hows the new kid?" He asked while I checked out his purple wrist.

I shrugged, "He's in shock, denial, scared like hell. Pretty normal after finding out your mom died."

Luke nodded wordlessly. We sat in comfortable silence while I wrapped my hands gently around his wrist, a glowing light peeked from the cracks of my fingers. I let go of Luke, while he moved it around to test it out.

"Are you sure you aren't a child of Apollo?" Luke asked.

"Luke, two men can't biologically have a child. Do I need to give you some sex ed?"

"Gods no! It's just, you're a talented musician, and you have healing powers, who else has that?"

"Um, a lot of minor gods?"

"Oh," yeah, oh. See, at camp, if you are the child of a major god, you have a low chance of getting claimed. And it's an even lower chance if you're the child of a minor god. Cause there isn't even a cabin for Hades, much less than any of the other gods that don't have a throne on Olympus.

"Why do we even make our lives revolve around them?" I looked at him with a questioning glance, prompting him to go further.

"I mean, look at you, you've been at camp how many years? You've come back from two quests alive, and you've been nothing but faithful to the gods. And what do you get? Being crammed into the Hermes cabin, having to deal with new campers, and having no clue who your godly parent is."

I just sat there, taking in what he was saying. I never really thought I had a bad life. I mean, my stepmom was awful, she used to hit on my dad and me all the time. And I found camp when I was 5, so I could escape her for summer. And the only reason he married her was to hide my scent from monsters. So when I found camp, he divorced her and kicked her out of our small apartment a year later. So I don't really remember her much. Then when I was seven, he met Fineas Laurel, a really good guy that became a really good family friend. About a year later, they started dating. They got married when I was 12, and adopted my precious little sister, Sofia, a year later. So my family life is great, and the two quests I went on weren't traumatizing or anything. I mean, the four people I went with, hated me and only had me come along because I had healing abilities. And on the first one, they tried to sacrifice me to save their own asses. The second one I blocked out of my memory, cause it was so bad. But I have no clue why exactly it was so bad. And being crammed in the Hermes cabin, well I don't really know a life in camp that I wasn't crammed in that incredibly small cabin. I guess to an outsider my life isn't that great, but in reality, I'm one of the lucky ones.

"ellooo. Phoebe? Earth to Phoebe" Luke's voice snapped me out of my trance.

"My life isn't bad, Luke. And what complications I've had, I don't blame on the gods. Even they don't have control over everything. The only thing is, why are you trying to turn me against the gods?"

"I just think the whole thing is stupid." I couldn't disagree with him there.

"Well, I'm gonna check up on the kid. He's playing Pinochle with Mr.D."

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As I walked on the porch of the big house, I saw Mr. D fill his goblet with wine. Percy's jaw dropped. I almost laughed. But the poor thing must've been so confused.

"Mr.D, your restrictions," I warned casually, looking at the ongoing game. Mr.D looked up at me before saying,

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

Thunder boomed.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron turned to Percy. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," he repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. It was almost comical.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time-well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away-the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."

Then he looked at me, saying, "Who are you, my mother, Penelope?"

"I have no comment to that sir."

"Wait- I thought your name was Phoebe?" Percy asked. I smiled nodding.

"He has a problem with names."

"No, I don't Patricia. I'm fantastic with names. You just have a weird one, Percy."

Percy's head shot up, filled with confusion.

"Sir, my name isn't Patricia or Percy."

"Well, what is it?"

"Phoebe."

"Bah, Perry is a better name. Isn't there a pony named Perry the Pony or something."

"Perry the Platypus, sir."

"See, Polly is a better name for you instead of Patty."

"W-wait" Percy butted in, stammering, "y-y-your father is..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I just shook my head. Watching Percy wrack his brain to figure out who the hell Mr.D would be.

"You're Dionysus," He finally said. "The god of wine."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"You're a god."

"Yes, child."

Ah yes, the epitome of conversation.

"A god. You."

Mr.D just started at the child, probably sending a silent threat of, "If you test me, you get turned into a dolphin."

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The poor kid looked terrified.

Mr.D turned back to his card game. "I believe I win." "Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

"Ooh, good hand Chiron," I said, congratulating the man.

Mr.D looked at me like he was gonna vaporize me, then looked at Chiron, before he gave up, sighing through his nose, already used to losing to the centaur.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to Percy. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He walked into the Big house, Grover following miserably. I felt bad for the satyr, he just had the worst luck sometimes.

"Will Grover be okay?" He asked Chiron and me.

I nodded, "Old Mr.D isn't really mad. He just hates his job."

Chiron continued saying, "He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Kiddo, just as the gods do." I explained to him.

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like ... in America?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West." Chiron answered.

"The what?"

Chiron furthered explained. "Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know-or as I hope you know, since you passed my course-the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps-Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on-but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

I snorted. Chiron silenced me with a look before continuing, "Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Phoebe? Who ... who am I?"

I gazed at him with sympathy, being thrown into the world of gods is a lot for anyone.

"Who are you?" Chiron mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s' mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

"Bleh," I said under my breath.

"I still can't fathom how you don't like chocolate, Phoebe."

I shrugged. Chiron rose from his wheelchair. Turning into the half-man, half stallion I grew up with. Percy looked like he was about to combust. I laughed slightly at the bewildered expression on the child.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

I helped him up saying, "So uh, it's a lot isn't it?"

"uhhuh"

"Don't worry kiddo, the first time I met Mr.D, I accidentally thought he filled his goblet for me, so I took a sip of it. I quickly found out it was weird tasting fruit juice. I still don't think he's forgiven me."

Percy looked at me with an open-mouthed expression that said, "Huh?", "How?", and "What the hell" at the same time.

I chuckled, "I was five, and I didn't know any better."

He just nodded, his mouth still hung open, so I said in a British accent, "Now, now Percy, close your mouth, we are not codfish."

His face filled with relief, probably because something finally made sense to him. "Mary Poppins?"

"Of course."

With that, we followed Chiron, who was waiting for us to follow.

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A/N: Wow she updated! :0 Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. Just so you know, I don't own any of the characters or plot, except for Phoebe, Her dad, Fineas, and Sofia. But I will try to update more frequently. And just to let you know, I will be doing the entirety of the Lightning Thief. And I'm going to try and do the rest of the series. Cause I have a plan, but at the same time not really. I mean, I know how I'm going to end The Last Olympian. But its the in-between I'm worried about. But I hope you enjoy it!

[nicoforlifetrue]

Summery:Dee Roman and Remus practicing a dead religion has some hiccups when it comes to history

Notices:

none of these are in any real timeline yet!

Yes the other sides are here

More then one person wrote this

There is a prologue! Read it here

The History Class Incident-

History was taught by Professor Thomas Sanders, he was a bright, cheery guy who never called Remus out for the 'juice' in his water bottle. He was a great guy by the standards of the three. That is, until the mythology course started. 

You see; Roman, Remus, and Dee hadn't yet told their roommates why they burned their food or why Remus was always inebriated or high. They hadn't said why Roman was so focused on appearance or why Dee's knee jerk reaction was to lie. Because all that was normal to them. It was how the three followed their respective patrons. But after the first day of mythology, the boys dragged their roommates out to meet the people they grew up with and rage over the inaccuracies of the course; expecting said roommates to rage with them. 

Dee had talked Virgil into going the entire way to the little coffee shop a friend of theirs worked at. The college student was seething the whole way there; you see the first unit in the course was Norse mythology and dear Professor Sanders had called Loki, his patron, the main villain of all things! Now Virgil, the good but anxiety ridden person he was, finally asked Dee what was wrong about halfway to the coffee shop. "Dude, what's your deal? Why are you so pissed?"

Dee sighed at that, rubbing his face before he stated, "You sat next to me in history; I know you heard what the professor said. He insulted the gods themselves and insinuated that Loki was a villain! That's why I'm pissed; he's a disrespectful cunt!"

Virgil laughed. "Dude, chill; he's just talking about an old religion. Like, sure, Loki is a cool superhero, but he's still pretty crazy in the myths."

Dee leveled his gaze at Virgil upon hearing that; disbelief written across his features. "Are you fucking with me? Please say you are; ‘cause if you aren't, I might have to kill you."

Virgil raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh really? Why are you taking it so seriously?"

"How are you not?" Dee snapped back before he sighed, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry I just- good gods and goddesses he called Loki a character, flattened his story's into two dimensional cluster fucks, left out all of the good Loki did; and all around disrespected him; thus disrespecting me and all other wards of Loki! I have no idea who your patron is but imagine if that happened to them. It physically sickens me just remembering that 'lesson', ugh."

"Wait wait wait," Virgil said, putting two and two together. "You take mythology seriously? Like it's actually your religion?"

Dee gave him a look. "Stop calling it a mythology and what; you don't? I always thought you followed Hades or Nyx," he hummed. "I grew up learning about the gods and goddesses, yes."

"Oh that's cool, I didn't know anyone still believed in that religion. I've no clue who my patron would be though," he said, laughing a bit.

"You don't?" Dee questioned before pausing and humming. "That actually explains some things…. But he's still a fucking cunt."

Roman, on the other hand, felt more betrayed; though not quite nearly as much as when he had watched Hercules. He knew what Loki meant to Dee, and to hear such a grossly incorrect retelling of the gods stories? It was devastating. And to hear not just that, but Loki being reduced to his greatest mistake and flattened into an evil villain? He was brokenhearted at the fact that his favorite teacher could be so ignorant and brash, to the point of calling Loki a character! Now Logan, despite his ineptitude with emotions could tell the class had upset Roman. So as at least a good acquaintance of the man he felt obligated to ask what was wrong.

"Roman? Why were you feeling upset in class?"

"How could I not be?!" he responded, throwing his hands up. "The professor grossly distorted one of Loki's stories and refused to tell any others! Instead he just honed in on his greatest mistake and made Loki seem like a Disney villain!” 

“I still don't see why you are getting angry over a retelling of a simple character's story."

Roman’s gaze flattened at that. 

Staring at his roommate angrily, "Logan. You did not just call Loki, the trickster God of Asgard, a character from some fictional work. If you did, may the gods and goddesses help you when Dee finds out."

"Gods and Goddesses are not real, they are simply imaginary characters people created to explain the causes of natural phenomena, they are useless now that we can define the world with science."

Roman stared at him dumbfounded. "Logan, my friend, blessed by Athena, unless you wish to end up being mauled by my brother; I suggest you change that perspective before he runs out of wine. And perhaps pay more respect to those higher than us mere mortals." 

Logan sighs. "You will not understand that one cannot praise something that is just a fictional character, so I will end this pointless conversation."

Roman rolled his eyes at that. "You’re going to be punished for ignoring the gods, you know."

And the last pair was Remus and Patton. Patton wasn't a fan of Remus, the only reason he was coming along was so the drunk didn't hurt himself.

 

"I just can't believe the guy!" 

"What?" 

"What do you mean, ‘what?’ He shit-talked the gods!" Remus huffed, well more like pouted. That statement basically ended the conversation.

The door to the cafe slammed open, an angry Dee storming in and over to their table. The other four were already there as Virgil trailed behind him. He slammed his palms against the table staring down at the wood, eyes full of fire.

"Fuck Professor Sanders."

Roman and Remus made noises of agreement as Dee sat down. "Who does he think he is! I mean, he's so clearly biased against trickster gods. Holy fucking Underworld!"

Roman nodded in agreement aggressively, and Remus kinda hummed as he took another sip of his drink. 

"I do not understand why you three are getting so riled up about what Professor Sanders said, he was merely telling the story of a mythological character." Logan said, monotone.

All three looked at him askance. "Because he retold it incorrectly, and refused to share any stories that would make my patron seem like he wasn't a complete shithead," Dee snapped; Roman frowning and Remus giggling drunkenly.

 

"Your 'patron' is a complete shithead, as you say, he wasn't a good person at all."

Dee stared at him at that "I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you, one, put air quotes around the word patron and then secondly, follow it up by calling my patron a villain?" His voice was cold and dead serious, angry to the point of pulling a Remus and ripping the next person who insulted Loki to shreds.

"Yes, I was speaking clearly, so unless you are deaf; you heard me correctly. Secondly, I did not call him a villian; you called him that."

Dee took a breath, then sighed. "Logan, you dumb fuck. How has Athena blessed you?" he stated, mostly to himself. "Ok, here. Think of it this way. Let's say someone explains something as simple as the water cycle in a grossly incorrect manner. Wouldn’t you be pissed?" 

"I would fix their falsehood and move on. Yes I would be mad, but I would be right and they would be wrong."

"Now think of it like that, but it’s fucking stuck with me because I was also personally insulted with this falsehood. It would be like someone explaining how colors work to you as if you’re five; but they do it so very incorrectly. That's why I'm pissed off, get it?"

"Yes, I'm now partly understanding, but how were you insulted by this 'falsehood'?"

"’Cause it's also a fundamental part of who I am," Dee responded blandly. "Loki being my patron shaped who I am today; and what I present and act like, being Loki's ward, has made me who I am. And to insult him? It's a personal attack on who I am as a person, as well as an attack on someone who I hold higher than myself." 

Logan places his hands on the table. "So let me get this straight, you hold Loki in the same esteem that, say, a Christian would hold God?"

"Kinda; unlike Christianity though my patron, though unlikely, might change. I don't know how but it can happen. But basically, yeah." 

Logan nods. "And Roman and Remus are the same?" 

"Different patrons, but yeah." Roman chimed in, Dee nodding.

"Big ego, loves his own appearance; Roman is your patron Aphrodite?" Logan asks.

"Got it in one, Teach!" 

"Teach?" Logan says confusedly. 

"You act like a teacher. So, Teach." Roman responded with a smirk; Dee chuckling, Remus watching him with his loopy tipsy-but-not-quite-drunk grin. 

"Thank you for explaining, Princey." Logan says holding back a smile

"Ooo! I like that one," Roman hummed; Remus's face scrunched up before he grinned.

"Can I be Dukey then?" Logan ignores that. 

Virgil, who had previously been quiet, snickered. "Sure, why not?"

Dee sighed, relaxing.

"Now I'm worried about what he'll do to the rest of our patrons, especially Aphrodite." Roman shook his head. "I might just file a complaint, at this rate."

"I mean, Aphrodite was a little bipolar in the stories. And no, Roman, I'm not insulting her." Logan said, trying to stop Roman from getting mad.

"Good," Roman huffed; Remus giggling again.

"Yeah, but with what the professor did to Loki; he'll turn her from bipolar to outright batshit crazy."

"Yeah; that's my job!" Remus cheered. 

"Wait, drunkenness, insanity…is your patron Dionysus?" Logan said.

"Bingo!" Remus responded.

"You could just offer to teach things the right way around, since you have first hand experience with the stories," Virgil offered calmly.

"They could; but wouldn't that be taken as slander to Professor Sanders’ teaching?" Logan said, pulling a Rubix cube out of his pocket.

"Yeah, most likely not worth the risk," Dee hummed with a sigh. "We'll just have to grit our teeth, and hope he doesn't damn us all by insulting the gods and goddesses too badly..."

"Yeah, oh! Why do you have the snake tattoo, Dee?"

Dee raised an eyebrow. "I like snakes, and they’re a sign of my patron; tattoos are also a sign of rebellion against higher ups, especially on the face and areas of high visibility, so..." he gestured at his tattoo. "I got one."

"We should get back to school."

"But we have the rest of the day off! Don't tell me you need to study that badly," Roman whined; Dee nodding.

"Nothing to stress over…"

"You can never be too behind on your work. Also, seeing how we have to do something about Loki, I would suggest you get it over and done with."

Dee groaned at that. "I'm going to put in the truth, not whatever nonsense the professor was spouting." 

That promptly started a 'discussion' on work ethics.

Enjoy that? Well join the discord to help make more or just to support it!

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[siriuslyparker]

Reign of Artemis - Chapter 8

Pairing: Prince!Tom Holland x OC

Warnings: none i believe, war talk?

Words: 7003

series masterlist; masterlist

____________

They joke around, the twins welcomed to join in, which they happily did. Exactly an hour later, a knock on the door came and a guard stepped in. “Her Royal Highness, Princess Artemis, and Sir Aaron Dover,” he said. Tom and Harrison rose to their feet, Eve and Evan bowing their heads as Artemis entered the room, followed by Aaron.

“Ready?” she asked. Tom nodded, and looked to Harrison, “The list, yeah?” he asked. “It’ll be done when you get back,” he confirmed. Tom thanked him before walking up to Artemis, offering his arm as the left the room, Eve following next to Aaron.

Aaron smiled down at the girl, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Brother bothering you still?” he asked. “Nope, did that trick you showed me on him and he’s been a saint since,” she said proudly. “That’s my girl,” Aaron chuckled. Tom saw the faint smile on Artemis’ face as she heard the conversation behind them.

“I must ask, and please give your honest answer,” Artemis spoke up, looking at Tom as they stopped in front of the elevator. He nods at her to continue, “Do you believe in My Gods walking the Earth?” she asked. Tom took a deep breath before answering, “I believe in my God fully, but I do believe they had walked the Earth at some point, just like all Gods had in the past,” he answered.

They take the same path that the twins led him on back to the gardens where they just were, “I’m sure you heard about the Greek Gods?” she questioned. Tom nods and looks over at her, “Well, I guess a short history lesson,” she said. “As the Ancient Greek empire started to fall, some people left and during their exploration found this island,” she started.

“They kept true to most Greek tradition, but many died within the years, what we mostly do now is still worship the Gods,” she explained. “While there are so many Gods, we really only worship the main twelve, but there are people that worship or, at least, recognize others.” Artemis leads to the beginning of the Garden which was in the far right corner, Aaron and Eve followed at a distance.

“We believe every God controls an aspect of our life, so we give offers to the Gods to hope for a better life,” she said. The first one was Aphrodite, “Most offerings these days are just minimal, but we have days where we perform religious rituals on Holidays,” she explained. Tom steps up to look in the glass case, there was a compact mirror, a hairbrush, and a golden rose.

“Are these Aphrodite’s?” he asked. Artemis nods stepping up next to him, she last visited nearly two thousand years ago and the rose is still living,“ she said. "She gave it to the queen of Baltia then, she was a beautiful Queen, Aphrodite called her an equal giving her the rose and as long as the reign remains pure and true, it will continue to live,” she said.

“Isn’t Aphrodite also for like fertility?” Tom asked. Artemis smiles softly at him and nods, “Many offers to her are for love and fertility, other selfishly do it for beauty,” Artemis frowned, her finger tapping against the glass.

Tom looks up to the statue, the curves of the marble looked so life-like. He felt as if the gaze of the statue followed him as he moved to the next statue with Artemis. Tom was easily able to identify him as Hermes from the winged sandals in the case that fluttered as they stepped up and two snake staff in the hand of the statue. “Hermes,” he said. Artemis smiled and nodded, “Travel and games, rumor has if you beat Hermes in any kind of game he makes you a Demi-God,” she said.

“You’re joking?” Tom gasped.

“Perhaps, but it’s been thousands of years since Hermes visited us, so we never know.”

They continued on to the next statue, this one held a wine glass in one hand while the other rested against his waist. “Dionysus,” Artemis said. Tom leaned in closer to the glass, it was filled with water and in the middle was a small island, covered in pine cones and grapes. As he went to leave back, a small dolphin jumped from the water. “Is that safe?” Tom questioned. “It’s not a real dolphin, a magic one. It’s more of an illusion than life-being,” she said.

“He’s the God of wine, resurrection, and commonly known to have good parties,” Artemis said. “I believe that’s more on the wine side that makes for a good party, some believe it’s because he may resurrect a few party people,” she said. “Doesn’t that make Hades mad?” Tom questioned.

Artemis shrugged as they walked to the next statue, “It’s not a true resurrection like Jesus or something, more of when one dies and they continue into an afterlife or another being,” she explained.

Next was Demeter, Goddess of Nature, Good Harvest, Artemis didn’t have much to say on the Goddess other than she was a protective mother and not a big fan of Hades. Inside her glass was a cornucopia filled with wheat and other harvest foods.

Then was Athena, Goddess of Wisdom during troubles time and in her glass was an Olive tree branch. Artemis said that many give offers to Athena when troubled by decisions, she admitted to praying to the Goddess when deciding what university to attend.

Ares, God of War, and he held a shield with a bear of it (which Tom swore followed them as they walked by). During the last war Baltia was involved in, the Queen at the time forced the whole country to give offerings to the God in hopes to have them win the war (which they did). According to Artemis, he’s a hot-headed God that’s willing to fight with anyone that has a slight issue with him, though still better than Zeus.

Persephone, Goddess of Spring and in her glass was a wreath of flowers and an unlit torch. Technically, the torch was from Demeter rather than Persephone herself. The torch would light when Persephone was in the Underworld with Hades and is suppose to symbolize the anger of Demeter not having her daughter.

They come back to the middle of the garden and Artemis stops. “The Big Three,” she said. Tom looks up to the statue, now realizing the marble he thought was just Zeus, was actually three statues in one. At the very bottom, the glass in the middle of his chest was Hades. “While he is the God of the Underworld, he is more commonly known for Wealth and prayed to for easy journey when loved ones die. I’m not quite sure what his tokens mean, we all have theories,” Artemis said.

Tom looked into the glass and seeing a golden key and a drinking horn. Above him with Poseidon, and inside his glass was a small trident with waves crashing against it. “Poseidon is all right, not the best of the Gods but he’s not Zeus. Anything involving the ocean we pray to, so no hurricanes, safe travels on water,” Artemis explained.

And that left the God on top, Tom assumed that was some sort of metaphor since Zeus was known to rule over the other Gods and Goddesses. His head towered overt he rest of the garden, a stone lightning bolt in his fist at his side, a crown on his head. It made Tom uncomfortable and somehow afraid of marble. “I guess we pray to him for justice and storms when needed. The lightning bolt in the glass warns us of danger, it went crazy the night before Ereta took the throne,” she said.

As they walked away from the large statues, Tom glanced over his shoulder. Aaron paused to look up at the statue, mumbled something under his breath before the lightning bolt in the glass glowed for a second before dulling. Tom turned quickly around and listened as Artemis gave him a rundown on Hera. “I forgot what the peacock means, but the rings symbolize marriage. Being married to Zeus is stressful, so I guess when you need help on your marriage or childbirth she’s always willing to do something to help.” Artemis shrugged and tapped the glass, the peacock ruffled its feathers before turning away from her.

Next was the three fates and Tom couldn’t help by grimace at the statue. They weren’t pleasing women to look out, considering they shared an eyeball between the three of them and the statue captured all the details of that. Inside the glass was a spinner, tape measure, and shears. Each is supposed to symbolize the way of destiny and life, the tape measure to measure how long a life is, shears to cut it, and a spinner to determine destiny and fate. Artemis says they get along well with Hades.

They stop in front of Apollo, it wasn’t hard to assume it was his with only two statues left. The sun somehow made the statue glow gold, even if the marble was white just like the others. You would pray to Apollo for many things, healing, medicine, truth, light, prophecy, music, and so on.

Tom noted as Artemis grew closer to the statue, the glowing orb inside the glass grew brighter. He believes it was supposed to be for the sun considering Apollo brought the sun every morning and took it every evening.

The last one, Artemis, Goddess of hunt, protection, virtue, archery, and the moon. And inside the glass was a small wooden bow and arrow and a deer.

“I’m sure you heard the rumors,” she said. Artemis raised her fingers against the glass, the little, magic deer raised its head to look at her. “Female firstborns don’t normally live to be three and to be blessed. No one knew why they’d get sick and we could never cure them.”

Tom took a step closer as he watched the little deer move around the bow handle and to the glass, resting its head against where Artemis’s fingers were pressed against. “My father named me Artemis in hopes she would protect me long enough to be blessed and long enough to rule,” she whispered. A small smile grew on her face as the deer rubbed his head against the glass fondly.

“It’s a tale that all past princesses are now her hunters, raised to be old enough to take part of her hunt, and ready for the next girl taken too young.” Artemis glances over at Tom before looking up to the statue. “I had gotten sick when I turned two, my father begged the country to give offerings to Artemis to hope the Goddess would offer protection. Many did, some also gave to Apollo for healing. Whether it was her or him, I lived, clearly,” she laughed lightly.

Artemis glanced over to the statue of Apollo, a distant look on her face, and a slight frown. “It might sound strange, and I’m not sure why I am even telling you thing, but I feel some sort of connection to her, and him, more than just a name,” she said.

Tom smiled at her, “It’d be hard not to,” he said. Artemis turned to look at him, a weakened smile on her face, wondering why the world belittled him so much, even his own country. He’d had been nothing but kind and respectful to her since his arrival, even during moments of his confusion, he was still careful with his words, clearly worried about accidentally disrespecting her and her culture.

She looks over her shoulder again, this time to Aaron who tapped his wrist. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to run, a few things I must take care of before the dinner,” she said. Tom shakes his head, “Completely understandable, duty calls,” he chuckled. They share a laugh and walk back towards the stairs they just entered at, having done a complete lap around the large garden.

Aaron and Eve join them closer as they reach back the corridor where they separate, “Unfortunately, I can’t take you back to your room, but I have full faith Eve can,” Artemis said. “Of course, Your Highness.” Eve bowed her head at her and stepped to Tom’s side. Tom shakes his head, “Once again, understandable, I shall see you at dinner?” he asked. Artemis nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Yes, oh, and a bit of a warning and advice,” Artemis said. Tom raised his eyebrow at her serious tone, “I wouldn’t approach my mother or sister during the dinner without Samuel or me, even Aaron, at your side, it would do everyone better,” she warned.

Tom laughed nervously, glancing at Aaron who gave him a nod. “Oh,” he mumbled. “Nothing bad, kind of, my mother is an old-fashioned woman. She sees a foreign prince and sees nothing but a marital link and with the deal being signed, she’s…” Artemis trailed off and looked at Aaron for help.

“As a person, she sees you as a potential husband for one of the Royals, but as an ally, useless,” Aaron said. Tom raised an eyebrow, “Useless?” he echoed. Artemis narrowed her eyes at Aaron, “That’s a heavy word,” she hissed. “But that is how my mother views all politics in the hands and mind of a woman. The only thing she worries in politics in marriage alliances, which is all she is going to discuss with you, especially given you have younger brothers and I have a sister who cares nothing more than titles.”

Tom nods slowly, kind of understanding that her warning was genuine. In all fairness, Thule was useless to Baltia. They could offer nothing but gratefulness to the powerful country in return for their help. He thanked her for the warning and said he’ll see her at dinner, Artemis turns to leave with Aaron, his hand on her back as they talk quietly. Tom turns and follows Eve. “Is Eris that bad?” Tom asks. Eve shakes her head as they begin to head towards the suite again. “No,” she replies.

“Thank God”

“She’s worse.”

“Oh.”

“The moment she gets more power as the Queen’s Mother is the day we all jump in the River of Pain.”

“Huh?”

Go to Hell.“

"Fun.”

§§§

Artemis was sure she was going to pass out. The more Maerie helped her finishing getting ready, the sooner she would have to face her mother and sister in front of nearly all of the first class of Baltia, though that percentage was small because it was just filled with noble families, relatives, and those families who are part of the council, it was enough to still worry her.

And to top it off, Tom would also be there.

She couldn’t help but have this weird feeling in her chest when they were together in the Hall of Gods, similar to anytime she was near the Apollo and Artemis case. But she pushed that feeling away, labeling it as her usual nerves and anxiety in meeting other Royals.

Maerie was currently in her closet, getting her the crown for tonight as Aaron was helping her put on the heels. Which consisted of, Artemis holding up her dress, him holding her steady as she stepped into the heel and him doing the buckle.

“This is way too much for a dinner,” she mumbles as he clasped the last buckle on her heel. Aaron glanced up at her with an amused grin, “You forget that this is a dinner for your mother and sister, also for two foreign diplomats, and not to mention a prince,” he said. Artemis frowned as he stood, dropping her dress to the floor.

The grey dress fell into a slight train behind her, just hovering over the ground. Delicate, white flowers were sewn into the grey material, along with white jewels and stitching to look like branches off the flowers. The top of the dress was covered in the stitching and dipped lowly, just a few inches above her belly button. The thin straps came around her shoulder and back to the front of the dress and crossed over to the back where it was fastened just above the zipper, leaving her back exposed. The heels under the dress were of the same grey, and the crown that Maerie came back carrying was silver with grey accents.

Artemis could barely let out a full breath without feeling the tightness of the fabric around her stomach, it was another night she was not going to be eating a full meal. She pressed her hand against her stomach as she looked across the room at the mirror against the wall, a small frown on her lips.

She watched in the mirror as Aaron came around to stand behind her. He brushed the strands of hair to one shoulder, his hands settling on her waist, thumbs brushing against the skin exposed. He glanced to Maerie who was fiddling with the crown case before he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath falling against her neck. Artemis reached over to grip his hand and let out a soft breath.

Aaron walks back around her, his hand sliding across her back and to her hand, “Your Highness,” he said, a smirk on his lips. She gives him a teasing glare before he walks her over to the table where Maerie stood, ready with the crown.

“If your mother has anything to complain about you tonight, you send her straight to me. Let me deal with her,” Maerie said. Artemis gives her a smile as she sits down in the chair next to the table, “And let you get fired? Never,” she said. Maerie waves her off and carefully places the crown on her head. “Please, I’d like to see her try,” the older woman huffed.

Artemis glances to Aaron, who gave her a wide grin. “Well, I’m not risking it. I do need you around for my coronation in the future. Gods know you’re the only one that ever does my hair well enough,” she teased. Maerie glances at her and smiles, “You don’t need those white stylists, they never do shit right,” she said.

Aaron snorts and clears his throat, Maerie looks over at him, “And don’t get me started on the white guards,” she teased. Aaron’s lips part and he looks between the two women, “My men? What are they doing?” he questions. Maerie waves his off, “What aren’t they doing? Taking after their captain and flirting with all the Noble and Royal women,” Maerie said.

Artemis presses her lips together and glances at Aaron, who’s cheeks were starting to turn red. “You two think you’re so slick sneaking around, you can’t hide anything from me.” Maerie turns, her hands on her hips as she looked between them. “Now, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how this isn’t going to work, I’m sure you both know. But you ought to be more careful with Eris back, it’s going to be harder to keep whatever this is a secret,” she said.

“How long have you known?” Artemis asks.

“A week, notice something up when you two started asking distance. Then everything seemed fine between you two after I saw that hickey poking from your collar.” Maerie points to Aaron’s neck.

He slapped his hand up to cover the right side of his neck, “Maerie,” he started. “I’m not telling anybody, I don’t know what the hell you two are doing, but I know you two are smart.” Maerie waved Artemis out of the seat and the princess quickly rises to her feet. “Now, sit, so I can make sure that thing is covered,” Maerie ordered.

Maerie pushes Aaron’s collar to the side and started applying some makeup to fully cover the hickey that he didn’t fully get. Aaron looks over at Artemis, who stood next to the chair, a frown on her face like she was a child that just scolded.

A few minutes later and they were leaving Artemis’s room, her hand resting in the crook of Aaron’s arm and Maerie carrying her train. As they started towards the ball, the Royal photographer met them halfway and started taking pictures. They reach the garden and they turn left to walk around the grounds.

“Remember, there will be a few interviews, nothing serious. They have questions they cannot ask,” Aaron advises. “I’ll be near, anything goes wrong, give me the signal,” he said. Artemis nods and reaches with her other hand to twist the ring around her thumb.

At the left side of the garden, they reach the end of the stairs. On multiple parts of the stairs were interviewers and photographs. “The second interview will be with Tom, you two will continue on into the ball together,” Aaron spoke quietly. Artemis nods and lets go of his arm. She rests her hands against her stomach, smoothing out the not existent winkles. Behind her, Maerie lets go of the dress and smooths out the train.

Artemis took a deep breath before picking up the front ends of her dress to start of the stairs, glancing over her shoulder to see Aaron and Maerie following behind several steps. Lifting her head, Artemis forced a relaxed smile on her face as the photographers started taking pictures as she went up the stairs.

The first interview went by within minutes, halfway to the second one, Tom approached her. He bowed as he stepped up to her side, Artemis bows her head slightly, carefully of the crown on her head. “You look beautiful, Your Highness,” he said. Artemis smiled at him, her hand moved to rest comfortably in the crook of his elbow, “And you look very handsome,” she complimented.

Tom smiles at her as they went further up the stairs. He glanced down as they stopped at one part for more pictures, careful to not step on his dress as Maerie rushed up to fix her dress and the train. Artemis took an opportunity to look at Tom fully when Maerie came over to fix her train. He wore what Artemis assumed to be the formal wear for the military branch he was part of a few years ago. A few pins and ribbons were pinned against the front of the jacket, unrecognizable means by Artemis.

She wasn’t going to lie, he looked very attractive in the uniform.

They move further up the stairs to the second and last interview for both of them. The woman bows and greets them both, “I must say it is a complete honor to be here, Your Highness, I can not thank you enough for granting me an invitation,” she said. Artemis gives her a soft smile, “Of course, how is school going?” she asks. “Very well, Your Highness, the third year now, nearly done with my first major,” she answered.

Artemis turned to look at Tom, who stood a step above her, “Annalise, worked under me with an internship a year ago when I was building up one of the foundations,” she explained briefly. Tom nods and smiles, “Artemis was the only one that would take me, not many who worked in the palace liked my ideas,” Annalise said. Artemis reached over to hold her hand, “And if you ever need a recommendation, please just get in contact with Aaron and I’ll write you one,” she stressed.

Annalise thanked her once more before getting into the interview, “Rumor has come around that you’ve been doing more work within the council and it was actually you, Artemis, that pushed for this deal to go through with Thule, despite the council not accepting it for having no benefit from the smaller country. Is this true? And if so, why did you push so hard for this?”

“I’m always one to help those who need it, even is just a little boost, and Thule was suffering from natural tragedy and I knew Baltia can do something. Considering we are a very independent country, it did take some pushing for the council to agree to help Thule, but I’m very grateful that they heard my words and allowed for us to send aid,” Artemis spoke.

“And it seemed that your own government was hesitant on allowing you to sign off this deal on your father’s behalf. What can you say to those who have doubt in your actions and label you the Bachelor Prince?”

Artemis looks up at Tom, who seemed taken back by the question. She glances briefly over her shoulder to where Harrison stood against the top of the stairs with Aaron. Had he not given the interviewers topics they weren’t allowed to bring up?

Tom cleared his throat and Artemis looks back to him. “I’ve always been one to shy away from politics, that enough is clear to the world. But for as long as I could remember I knew I had something more I could be doing instead of drinking away in bars. I’m not proud of the past actions that have given me this title and negative look on not only me but my family.

"I can’t force others to change their mind about me, I’ve tried and it doesn’t work. I don’t know how I can ever prove to them I am more than capable of doing this for my country, but I do know that I’m going to do everything in my power to help my country and this is the first step. So for that, I am beyond grateful for Baltia and Artemis into giving both my country and myself this chance to healing.”

He swallowed and glanced down to Artemis, who gave him an encouraging smile. She squeezed his arm before she looked back to Annalise. “Will be seeing you two working more closely together in the future?” she asked. Artemis laughs lightly and looks up at Tom, “We’ll have to see, all depends on how well Tom can get through a Baltian ball,” she teased. “Now I’m worried,” Tom said nervously.

Annalise laughs, “Nothing too bad, I can promise you that, Your Highness,” she said. Tom nods and looks down to Artemis, “Well then, perhaps you will see more in the future,” he said. Artemis looks up at him with a small shake of her head, “Let’s see what you say after dinner.” she patted his forearm with her other hand.

They thank Annalise and move to head further up the stairs to head to the ball. Tom pauses to make sure that he wasn’t going to step on her dress. She held up the bottom of her dress as Tom held out his hand for her to take, which she gladly accepted.

Reaching the top and Tom holds Artemis’s arm as she adjusts the bottom of her dress. “Jesus, how high are those?” Tom mumbled as he caught a glimpse of her heels. She laughs and stands straight, “Five inches,” she said. “Your poor feet,” Tom sighed. Artemis laughs again as Aaron motioned for them to head towards the ball, “I’m short, I need the height,” she said.

They walk up two steps and further into the palace and they walk into the ballroom. At the very front was a long table meant for the Baltian Royal family and their personal guests. Along the left and right side of the large room was smaller, round tables for other guests of the ball. And in the middle was empty space what people were standing and talking in. Columns aligned the edge of the room, some leading out to balconies, others just having different color fabrics hanging behind it.

Artemis and Tom made their way through the crowd, people parting as they passed, bowing at the Royals. They reach the edge of the crowd when Orion steps up to the two, “Forgive me Your Highness, but your father wishes to speak with you, Princess,” he said. Artemis looks past her father’s advisor, the king gives her a curt nod and she sighs. “Excuse me,” she whispered to Tom. She follows Orion to her father and Aaron stepped up to Tom’s side, Harrison on the other side.

“That doesn’t look like a positive conversation,” Tom said to Aaron. They watch as Artemis was dragged further from the crowd by her father’s hand as they whispered harshly to each other. Aaron sighed, “Council expects a proposal from Artemis in a months time, she refuses to court someone on the council’s behalf. Doesn’t exactly please anyone,” Aaron said.

Harrison scoffed, “You’d think after all this time they’d allowed Royals to marry on their own terms,” he said. “Well, if anyone is going to change that it’s her. Too stubborn to say otherwise,” Aaron chuckled. “Excuse me,” he said to the two. Tom watches as Aaron walks up to the King and Princess, he rested his hand on Artemis’s back before speaking to the King.

“May I advise softer expressions, people are noticing the harsh looks,” Aaron spoke softly. Artemis looks over at him before back to her father, “Screw, tradition,” she snapped. “While you may feel that way, Artemis, unless the council sees an alternate path, you must,” Anthony hissed. “Then find an alternative path, or I will. Why can’t you let me decide this part of my life?” she questioned. “I have given you time, Artemis, there is only so much I can do before the law hangs upon you,” he sighed.

“You’re the King. You are the law,” Artemis laughed, noticing Aaron hesitating to move any closer. “He suggests me to speak with Tom on a possible union,” she scoffed. Aaron raises his eyebrow looking to the king, who sighed. “An option, Artemis,” he mumbled.

“The council is making hints that Artemis must follow traditional law that she has to be married before taking the throne,” Anthony explained briefly. Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, “But she shouldn’t be taking the throne for some time, and isn’t there alternative paths?” Aaron questioned.

Anthony sighed, “Yes, but if anything were to happen to me, she would step forward much faster,” he agreed. “Than that would be an alternative path? Theoretically, if she would have to take the crown suddenly, that would be an alternative path, the traditional law would be overturned because there would need to be a bloodline on the throne. And seeing as no one else in line is married, she would take the throne as a single woman,” Aaron said.

Artemis wore a proud grin on her face as she looked from Aaron to her father, Anthony sighed, “Theoretically, yes,” he confirms. Artemis nods, stepping closer to Aaron, hugging his arm, “Aren’t you so glad you hired him as my advisor?” She teased.

Anthony huffed, “As much as you may annoy me, you do hold her best interest at heart,” he said to Aaron. “I always do, Your Majesty,” Aaron said. Anthony gave him a look, “Right, Anthony,” Aaron chuckled. “You’re part of this family, Aaron, no need for titles, we’ve spoken of this,” Anthony put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“And I wake grateful for that every morning,” Aaron smiled, glancing down at Artemis. Anthony wore a sad smile seeing their moment together before clearing his throat, “Security for tonight?” he asked. Aaron looks over at the king and stands up straighter, “Covered,” he confirmed. Anthony nods a few times, taking a sip of his drink. “I would keep your mother away from Tom,” he said before giving her a warning look over her shoulder.

Artemis turns around and sees her mother slowly making her way to Tom, “I’ll get him,” Aaron said. He rested his hand on her waist for a second before walking over to where Tom at the drinks.

Anthony cleared his throat, “Artemis,” he spoke softly. “I know that you don’t like this, but please, think of it. Consider the option of Tom, from what Eve has told me you two got along well this morning.” he rested a hand on her forearm. “And what if I don’t love him?” she looked over to Tom and Aaron, the latter leading the Prince towards a thicker crowd.

“Not all Royal marriages bring love, my dear, but we must do want he have to for our country. Now go,” Anthony said.

Artemis looks at him with a frown before going where Aaron disappeared with Tom, picking up a glass of champagne from a passing tray. Aaron noticed Artemis approaching and stepping back from Tom, who turned and gave Artemis a weak smile.

“I take it your people are also pushing marriage?” Tom questioned. Artemis slowed to stop in front of him, “They act like once I turned twenty-three I’ll die lonely,” she mumbled. “As I am twenty-three, I can say confidentially they think you won’t be able to have kids anymore,” Tom joked. Artemis raised her eyebrow and shook her head, “God forbid I’d like to live a little without being a mother like I’m twenty-one,” she mumbled.

Tom laughs and takes a sip from his glass, “With all due respect, they probably don’t think you’d be able to do your job as Queen while pregnant,” he said. Artemis sighed, “Well, now I want to get pregnant when I’m Queen just for the hell of it,” she said. “Like what, a revenge baby?” Tom laughed.

Artemis shrugged, “Babies been born under worse intentions. Plus, I’d think my child would love to know they were born just for the sake of saying fuck you to the government,” she said. She took a sip from her champagne before pausing, she swallowed, “Excuse my language,” she mumbled. Tom shakes his head, “No, please, I welcome it. Do you know how hard it is not to swear around these people? You automatically labeled a disappointment or an embarrassment to the crown,” Tom whispered.

“Tell me about it, one time I said shit in a speech and it took a whole month before the media forgot about it,” Artemis groaned. “Context?” Tom questioned. “Our society as a whole is doing a shit job in helping minorities, despite they claim they cherish them just as much a white people. Give or take a few words,” she said.

Tom chuckled, “I think they were a little more upset with the word used in that context than the word itself. People tend to not like being called out on their ignorance,” he said. Artemis nods and raises her glass and takes a sip.

They started walking around the room, heading towards one of the balconies. Artemis waves Aaron off and he takes several steps back and stands by the entrance of the balcony, out of listening distance. “This one time, a few years ago,” Tom started. “When my mom went through a spree of wanting to find me a wife, Noble families would send their daughters to spend a few weeks. This one girl, I guess her family was very high up, used to getting what she wanted and right away,” he chuckled.

Artemis scrunched up her nose, “I think I can see where this is going,” she winced. Tom nodded a few times, “My father mentioned a political topic, something that would make the higher Noble families pay more in taxes than lower classes. She all but demanded that he throw the idea out the window, cursed at him and us in French, which my mother speaks fluently. Then had the nerve to request that we chose her to marry over breakfast as nothing happened,” he finished.

With an amused grin, Artemis asked what happened next. “My mother told her that they will not be choosing her and her family is no longer invited to dinners because of her,” he said. “Gods, please tell me she said it in French,” Artemis begged. Tom gave her a grin and a nod.

Artemis smiled and shook her head, “That’s perfect,” she said.

“Last week we had Prince Fredrick visiting,” she started. “He’s that  one from Latin America right?” Tom questioned. Artemis nods and sets her glass on the banister in front of them. “My mother was hoping a marriage to come between us, and in all honesty, I wasn’t complaining as much as normal. From what I heard of him he was respectful and caring, hitting a few things on the list I’d like in future significant other,” she chuckled.

She glances to Tom before clearing her throat, “I guess he didn’t look at a lot of pictures of our family or of me. Because as great as he and his family might seem, they aren’t very, kind to my father and I,” she hesitates to find the right words. “They’re racist?” Tom questioned.

Artemis pursed her lips before grabbing her glass, “You said it,” she mumbled. “You’re fucking joking?” Tom scoffed. She shrugged, “The world is always going to have its chauvinists, no matter how perfect you make it,” she said.

Tom shakes his head and looks over the balcony that overlooked pathways to different parts of the castle. “To be fucking racist to a princess and king, hell to anyone?” he mutters. Artemis glances down at the glass in her hands, “As much as it is disgusting for someone to hate you for your skin color, there’s nothing you can do once they are set on their views. You can only hope that the next generation isn’t as small-minded,” she said.

“How can you do it?” Tom asked.

“Do what?”

“Be like this. So, so kind and open to everyone, even those who are racist and sexist towards you. I don’t know how you do it.”

Artemis sighs and looks up at him, “It’s not easy, I’ll admit that. And I’ll be honest that I spend some nights overthinking such comments, crying over it. Sometimes you just have to be that bigger person and turn the other cheek, it’s hard, but you have to.” She looks into the building, a frown on her lips. “Put up a facade for them, just as they do for you. Only yours is your true self, who is numb to their comments.”

She forces a weak smile to her face and looks to Tom, “May I be honest with you, kept between us?” she asked. Tom nods, “Of course,” he whispered. “It’s exhausting. Having to keep this appearance of a strong princess against her country and government. So many times I’ve cried and wondered why I don’t just give in to the council’s demands. Marry that prince who thinks I’m just used to give him heirs, give the throne to my brother, denounce my name and marry a noble. It’d be so much easier,” her voice cracks slightly.

“Gods, how I wish for this to be easy. But with this war coming and it’s me against the government on the point of view of this war, I don’t know what to do. There’s only so much Aaron could advise me on, but he’s as blind as I am on this. I don’t know how our parents did this our age or any did, it’s so fucking exhausting and I just want to give up.”

Tom didn’t say anything for a moment before he grabbed his glass and leaned back against the banister. “I gave in,” he said. Artemis looks over at him, curious.

“I couldn’t take the pressure. The rules, the protocols, the damn girls throwing themselves to marry me and they’d only care for the money and titles and not the country. I tried telling my parents but they could care less. ‘Thomas, this is your life. Your duty.’ So, I became me. I drank, I fucked with Noble girls, any girl that didn’t care who I was or did, I didn’t care.

"I guess during that I lost myself, became this Bachelor Prince, hated by my country and parents. I saw no point in trying anymore to be this prince they wanted me to be. I guess I became numb to it, they threatened to make my younger brother first in line for the throne, disown me. I just didn’t care anymore. Then this drought came.

"I didn’t think much of it at first, we’ve had hot summers. But then people started getting sick, dying from the lack of fresh water and food. I still didn’t care, I thought my father would deal with it like always. Then my brother, Paddy, got sick. God, it hit me so hard. I wanted to do shit, y'know? I tried but no one would take me seriously anymore, not even Harrison.

"I knew this deal was my only chance to prove something. That I can be more, that I want to be. Cause I care.” Tom’s voice got lower and he tried swallowing the lump in his throat. “Like, fuck, I care so much,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and turned away from the room as his eyes begin to water.

Artemis reaches over to take his hand and squeezed it. “Sort of opposite, huh?” Tom mumbled. “You refuse to give in to the pressures and I do,” he laughed bitterly. “Oh, no, I give it,” Artemis said. “I just do it privately,” she with a laugh. Tom laughs and shakes his head. He brings his other hand up to wipe under his eyes.

“I do vodka and whiskey and an occasional fuck,” Tom said.

“Wine, gets me really depressed, and I guess an occasional fuck,” Artemis said.

Tom looks over at her with his eyebrows raised, “You okay?” he asked. She shrugs and looks down at their hands, “Nope, you?” she asks. “God, no,” he laughed. “Cool.” she nods.

“Some ball. Do you get all your potential husbands crying at their first ball with you?”

“Not usually. And who said potential husband?”

“Your council and my father.”

“Touché.”

_____________

Tags: @loxbbg @elioelioeli0 @emilyt0314 @spidey-pal

[neqeyam]

Forgotten Myth; Chapter two.

Words- 2967

Warnings- height/falling, fighting, arguing, mentions Lee’s death

Summary-  When fourteen year old Ruby Moore is chased down the hallway at school by a character out of one of her fever dreams, she gets thrown into a world of tales and myths that society has ruled out to be fake. Befriending a Pegasus that hates everyone, and gathering friends strong enough to be considered a small army, she has to embark on a journey that will change her life forever.

POV- Ruby

Chapter One- https://rqmcuwdwpjo.tumblr.com/post/188285543834/forgotten-myth-chapter-one

Will took me around the camp, Camp Half-Blood according to his shirt. Showing me everything from a strawberry field to the infirmary. He told me stories of our dad, about how Apollo got banished to be a mortal a while ago and since he’s back being a god he now has a new sense of identity. He took me to the archery range, where I impressed him with my archery skills even though I was new. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I took archery lessons from age six to age ten. 

By the end of the educational tour, I was exhausted. I felt like I’d just ran a million miles, but he didn’t stop there. He took me to the only building in a rectangle of twenty other oddly specific buildings that literally was glowing gold in the setting sun. Inside there were about ten bunks, all pushed to the outside edges of the building so that there was room in the middle for three cots. 

“Please tell me I don’t have to sleep in one of those.” I whined, pointing at one of the cots. Will made a face as if to say: I hope you like back problems. I almost started complaining but he laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder to keep from toppling over. 

“Those are medical cots silly. But anyways, welcome to cabin seven; where children of Apollo learn the trades of our father.” I looked around and took in the scene. Books on various topics lined the many bookshelves in between the bunks, medical supplies spilled out of bags while syringes soaked in a yellowish-brown liquid. One thing that stuck out to me the most, was the fact that everywhere I looked, some sort of archery target hung from the walls with very distinct holes in the bulls-eye. Will rummaged around under one of the bunks that looked abandoned and pulled out a box. When he opened it, a faint light filtered out as if they’d trapped it in there. 

“This was Lee Fletcher’s bow. If you want it, it’s all yours,” Will said, sadness drifting through his voice. I was tempted to ask what happened to Lee, but something about Will’s posture and aura told me that I’d better just accept the bow. 

“It looks perfect, thank you,” he handed me the bow, and I had to admit; it was perfect. The nocking point seemed to be in a direct line to my shoulder, the bow string wasn’t too taut, I felt like this bow had been crafted just for me. As I was holding it, I realized that the bow itself was actually glowing; not blindingly, just enough for me to see a faint halo of light outlining the bow. 

Once Will had enough of reminiscing about Lee’s bow, we went back outside. A horn blew in the distance, scaring me so badly I screamed and hid behind Will (Not my best moment I’ll admit). 

“That’s the dinner horn, nothing to be afraid of-” he said, a dark figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere cut him off. 

“eccoti, ti ho cercato dappertutto,” the dark haired kid said. 

“Nico, for the last time, I don’t speak fluent Italian.” 

“Ciao, chi sei,” they all turned to me as if I just grew another head. Though the black haired kid looked more grateful than confused. 

“Puoi parlare italiano?” the black haired kid -who Will called Nico- asked. 

“no, perché dovrei?” I asked. Will’s face flushed red, but he looked rather pissed. 

“Would you two stop that! Ruby you’re speaking Italian!” He yelled, taking both of us by surprise. I looked down at my hands as if they’d give me answers; but no avail. I was thinking in another language too, symbols rather than english letters were flying around my head. I realized the same symbols were almost everywhere around camp, telling me where to go. For a moment, I completely forgot english and my whole sense of identity blurred. Will set a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention from my hands. 

“pós boró na milíso angliká?” I asked frantically. Nico handed me the book he was reading, thankfully it was in english and the other two languages seemed to go back to their hiding places. My mind went back to thinking in my first language; I handed the book back to Nico and huffed, “Thank you,” he nodded and started up the hill.

Dinner was cool, I could order whatever I wanted and however much I wanted. My plate just seemed to refill itself, the Greeks really knew how to eat. Mr. D (Will told me his real name is Dionysus, the wine dude) stood and banged a knife against his goblet of diet coke. When he had everyone’s attention, he turned to Chiron. (yes, the Chiron from the ancient times.) 

“You all know what today is, the first Friday of the month. Which means-” he was cut off by the Ares table pounding their silverware on the table, chanting CTF; whatever that meant. The rest of the cabins joined in their chants till it was just a rumble of voices and an earthquake of silverware pounding. A stocky girl with dirty blonde, almost brown hair stood up and thrust her spear into the air. 

“We’re on her team this month. If we win, I get the Apollo chariot back that she stole from us while Michael Yew was our senior counselor.” Will spat, he didn’t sound happy about being on her team. 

“Then I guess we have to win.” I stated. I’ve always been competitive, and now I finally know how I’m so good at basketball. Will grinned at me, his eyes alight with an emotion I couldn’t place. 

After dinner, and after Chiron was finally able to explain the rules; Will led cabin seven through the hoard of people and into the woods. Everyone seemed to know their place, some went up into trees, scaling them like squirrels. Others turned invisible and the only hint that they were still there was a rustling in the bushes. Will led me to a pile of rocks that looked like a thumb, a blood red flag shone brightly in the setting sun. he scaled a tree next to the pile of rocks, something told me to do the same. I climbed a tree with surprising ease a few yards away from the flag so I’d have a clear view of who was coming through. Two kids that wore the same mischievous grins that Ayla defaulted to walked through the clearing. Behind them, enough teenagers to be considered a small army without the multitude of weapons came walking into the clearing. The girl, who Will told me was Clarrise, barked orders at people. 

“You excited?” someone asked behind me. My instincts pulled an arrow out and notched it all while turning around. I was met with a smug smile that I was so used to. Then I checked my pockets. 

“More nervous than anything, your dad is Hermes isn’t it.” I asked Ayla. It hadn’t occurred to me that she looked exactly like him -based on a description from a book I found- She nodded and perched in the tree next to me. I looked over to where Will was perched to see him lazily going in and out of being visible. He flickered sometimes, like he got stuck halfway through his change. 

“You and I are gonna charge the flag. According to Connor, they’ve got the entirety of Demeter’s children on guard duty, with Hecate’s scattered throughout the woods.” I nodded along with her, we’d need a plan to get through Hecate’s children’s magic. A bunch of grease covered kids walked into the clearing, -probably Hephaestus’s kids- and Ayla let out an audible sigh. I followed her gaze to a semi scrawny kid who would not stop moving -his dark curly hair and tanned skin gave him away as hispanic- talking to an equally dark skinned girl.

Clarrise held a thumbs up to the sky and then a few moments later a horn sounded. Our ranks bolted into the woods, and the Hephaestus kids started waving Wii remotes around really quickly. 

Yells and screams erupted from the woods, and a few kids watched everything through a shield looking thing. The first wave of kids were all blonde except for the black haired kid from earlier (Will told me that he’s the son of Poseidon, Perry Jackson, or something like that). Ayla drew her daggers and charged from her spot in the tree. Will and I rained arrows down on whoever got too close to the flag (Although, most of my arrows missed). A water spout rocketed toward me, but I jumped and fired one of the rope arrows into another tree, swinging across the battlefield kicking anyone that got too close. Light beams burned kids slightly when they started their assault on the flag. We were being overrun by kids. Another kid with blond hair came running through the mess and I thought it might be Will, but then I started to feel sleepy. 

“It’s Clovis’s magic!” someone yelled. I took a closer look at the blond haired kid and I realized that he was sleeping. Our defenses were dropping like flies, snores started the echo through the woods. They seemed to be protecting him, drawing a crescent moon around him. Next to me Ayla sleepily fluttered down onto the branch and closed her eyes, a good sized rock almost fell out of her hand. I knew what she wanted me to do. 

“C’mon Apollo, gimme one luck shot,” I murmured and wound up. The rock left my hand at an upward angle, then arced down; smacking Clovis right in the temple, he fell like a load of bricks. Some of his defenses tried to wake him up but he didn’t. Our defense team woke up one by one, recharged and ready to go they fought harder than before. 

My vision blurred and I saw a figure running for our flag, but I couldn’t see her. I sensed her. When my vision returned I saw someone grabbing at our flag, it rose and started down the hill. Almost all of the offensive troops had retreated. 

“Team Ares!” I yelled, gathering everyone's attention. “Stop our flag,” they followed my finger and watched as Annabeth emerged from nothing and set down the flag. A wave the size of a small house flung half our troops out of the way, then the dark haired kid (Perry? Percy? One of the two  I can’t remember what Will said) started fighting his way through the mess of kids. Ayla grabbed my hand and the next thing I knew we were zooming through the woods at top speed. She smacked into an invisible shield of some sort and crumpled to the ground with a groan. A few snickers from the other side brought my attention to a bunch of Demeter and Hecate children. Clarrise growled a few feet away from me and stabbed at the shield, getting thrown back. Ayla and I exchanged glances, something told me she wanted to go up. So we did. 

The shield was definitely not as strong on the top as it was near the bottom. The only problem was that we were suspended fifty feet up in the air by some jello. Ayla pried a hole in the top and I shot four arrows down. Unbeknownst to me, they were all sonic arrows. Each arrow sounded like it was on eight amplifiers and a surround sound speaker. Good news, it was enough to blast out the shield and disoriant their first line of defenses; bad news, Ayla and I were now falling fifty feet to our deaths. Someone caught me, I was met with brown eyes that screamed anger. He set me down and kept running, as Ayla lowered herself down next to me. Together, the three of us ran at the Aphrodite children. I stayed back a little bit and shot anyone out of the trees, while the rest of our offense fought against Aphrodite, Nemesis and what was left of Demeter. 

“Ayla! I have a plan!” I yelled, before I even had a P-L-A. She came running and I told her about what I saw Will doing and how he briefly explained it to me. Another kid came with her, however; it was the brown eyed Ares kid that caught me. 

“You’re going to need a brute for that,” he grumbled, trying harder than necessary to sound mean. I didn’t have time to argue so I just grabbed their arms and ran, praying to Apollo that this worked. 

The fact that no one tried to stop us told me that it worked. We ran and dodged roots that were constantly growing. When we came to a clearing where a stream ran through, I slowed down. In front of us stood their flag, and a multitude of traps. Ayla groaned at the sight of the traps but I told her to just fly over everything. A blond kid that looked to be about my age paced in front of the first trap, folding over a knife in his hand. He grumbled about something, we didn’t stick around long enough to hear what he was saying. Ayla flew us over everything, groaning and complaining everytime one of us moved the wrong way. The brown eyed kid, -who refused to tell me his name- grabbed the flag and bolted for Ayla and I. An alarm sounded in the trees and two more cabins came running into the clearing. 

“Great, now what,” brown eyed boy grumbled. I hadn’t thought this far but I had the beginnings of something that would either be super cool, or the biggest failure in the history of camp. I pulled out my last arrow, it was a rope arrow. Thank Apollo, I thought. Without saying a word I shot it at an angle at Ayla; the arrow wrapped itself around her waist, almost pulling her out of the sky. Brown eyed kid seemed to be following my train of thought because he ran towards the closest kids near us and grabbed their shields. He threw one at me and stuffed the other under his foot. I stopped the shield with my foot, and gripped my bow better. 

“AYLA, FLY!” I screamed and she took off. The brown eyed kid grabbed onto the rope with his other hand and held the flag under his arm. 

We sped through the woods on shields, Ayla was going so fast that almost nothing could touch us. I’m sure we looked like a more badass version of the Three Stooges. She started laughing maniacally over the wind and we jumped a hill. Annabeth and the black haired kid (I’m pretty sure his name is Percy) were running back with our flag, thankfully they hadn’t made it back to their side yet. They ducked under us and gawked. Cheers erupted from the tree line where Ayla’s half brothers and sisters were gathering along with the Hephaestus kids. We were almost across when a wave knocked Ayla out of the sky, she hit the ground like a ton of bricks. 

“Connor! Go long!” he yelled and threw the flag like a spear. One of Ayla’s brothers broke off from the crowd and flew to meet the flag, pulling it over the line; the crowd cheered and lifted him up on their shoulders. With Ayla’s momentum and no one to steer, brown eyed kid and I rammed right into a tree. He turned around right before we hit and grabbed me, his back smacked into the tree hard, and my head smacked into his armor. We both crumpled to the ground, groaning. Will was already working on Ayla who had hit her head on a rock. A few of my other siblings ran over to brown eyed kid and I, healing us with no problem. I stood up and stuck out my hand to help him up, he took it gingerly. 

“That was quite the plan, Ruby,” he said and took off his helmet. For a moment I was overtaken with confusion but then I realized who he was. 

“You- you told Mrs. Johansson that I FAKED A PASS!” I yelled, poking a finger at his chest. Jackson Ryans stuck his hands in the air in surrender, though the grin on his face told me he was just getting started. 

“It was all part of the plan.”

“What plan?!” I demanded, only now realizing that he was a solid three inches taller than me. 

“To get you here of course, we needed an actual reason to get you here or else you wouldn’t believe us and someone kept telling the monsters off your scent,” he explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. That didn’t help the fact that I got a detention out of it and was benched for two basketball games. 

“He’s right, we did need a reason and Jackson volunteered to tattle on you,” Chiron said as he helped Ayla up off the ground. She brushed herself off quickly and thanked Will, who went to work on the others that were lying around groaning. 

“I was benched for two games because of him!” 

“Yeah, sorry about that one. That definitely wasn’t part of the plan,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his neck, still grinning. I wanted to smack him but Ayla led me away before I could, throwing me into a celebration that resulted in me, Ayla, Connor and Jackson on various peoples shoulders. Ayla and Connor start playing chicken, with two of the stockier Hephaestus kids. Slowly I realized that I was on an Ares kids shoulders, he was taking me toward their chicken game. Ayla punched me in the arm and Connor shoved my shoulder. 

“Hey! No tag teaming!” I laughed, shoving them back. Jackson came over and shoved them with me, together we pushed Ayla off the Hephaestus kids shoulders and then went to work on Connor. He gave up and flew off the kids shoulders. Jackson held his arms out for a hug, I was reluctant but it’s kinda hard to dismiss a hug that you’re forced into. Jackson’s brother moved so that he could pull me into him. 

“Okay okay, I forgive you… I guess,” I said so he’d let go of me. Did I actually forgive him? Not really; but something told me I’d have to or else this camp would be absolute hell.