#whoever they are now is someone wholly different.

[sezja]

Mallius's childhood friend has gotten very strange since leaving Garlemald.

(They're trying to cheer him up. It's definitely not working. Shut up.)

[yandere-yearnings]

what r ur thoughts on sun getting jealous and crazy but darling matches his freak and might just be worse… erm…. i have no excuse i just need to ruin this man he makes me VISCERALLY ANGRY. but in. like. a Pleasant way. the people (me) are dying to know 🎤🎤🎤

genie you're out here asking all the right questions😌💕 there are a few possibilities for how things may turn out and it all depends on the situation at hand so i wrote out two little bits hehe also, sun is staring bc he heard the word ruin and it put an image in his head,, i think you need to take him away🤧 to the people (you) i present sun w/ a jealous darling:

...in general

Honestly, Sun believes jealousy is a healthy feeling to have in a relationship. He's a bit delusional, and really, he flies off the rocker way too easily for someone who supposedly has a lax stance on the matter, but he thinks it can only be proof that you love each other. You don't like the way other people are putting their hands on him? That means you accept that he's yours! So, if you just happen to be a jealous person like that, he doesn't mind; in fact, he endorses it and will set-up situations just to watch the way you seethe.

Now, matching his freak — potentially being even worse than him — is an entirely different thing. Tell him you'll pluck off his fingernails just because they grazed someone else's hand and it has him squeezing his thighs together like it'll stop you noticing how hot the comment made him. Sun loves feeling like you possess him, and he's ready to give himself over to you wholly if that's what you want.

...when he is jealous

On the odd occasion that Sun loses his cool and lets his reoccurring jealousy drive him off the edge, he isn't really able to comprehend anything other than his desire to paint the walls with someone else's blood. You could be equally as mad, you could be tearing at his clothes with your hands at his throat, you could be screaming into his ears until the drums burst — but Sun isn't there so it doesn't change anything. Whoever or whatever it is that's taking your attention away from him will be his only priority in that moment, and if he can't deal with it imminently, he'll be thinking of how to until he can.

If you can overpower him, there's opportunity to calm him down. No amount of words will reach him when he's in a mood, regardless of their severity, but if you can hold him back for a while, he'll eventually be able to come to his senses. Although, that doesn't mean he's any less angry. You best keep your promises and do everything you said you would to him, Sun is waiting for you to teach him a lesson so he knows you still care.

[vacayisland]

HIII i saw that you were taking request so im just asking if you could make a John dory x reader insert fanfic?

John dory meeting his spouce on the mission with Branch and Poppy when they find Bruce and hits it off with them while their is working at Bruces little diner?

@!; It's always a "vacay" with you. John Dory (JD) / Reader

"Summary"! John Dory didn't expect meeting the love of his life on a mission to save his brother; yet here he was, finding himself oh so fascinated with you that Spruce, Branch, and Poppy are having to physically pull him away from Vacay Island! "Tags"! Fluff! A lil awkward. Also, not proof read. I need to research JD a little more before writing another fanfiction about him, yet I tried my best with his personality!

@!; The last thing that John Dory expected from this mission was to find someone who completed him wholly, fully, and completely. The last thing he expected, when arriving to Vacay Island was to fall in love, head over heels for another Troll. The last thing he expected to come from this mission was to find someone who finally understood; understood him and his ways and how he is. Who made him want to be better while helping make him better; and in turn he helps them be a better version of themself. And it felt like some sort of weird destiny. They were only going to the island to find Spruce; a mission with one end goal, one way to go. Yet, when following Spruce (now Bruce) into his co-owned resort, singing had caught his attention right away...

Branch and Poppy kept following after Spruce, who hadn't turned around yet and kept trying to wave the two off while claiming his band days were over and to keep it all hushed-hushed. Though JD had stopped half way through the walk, hearing a tune flutter through the speakers of the indoor seating area. His interest had been captured, it was held captive with ever flutter of the sweet notes that wafted through the air. Though he slowly started to back up to follow his younger brother to get Spruce, he kept his eye out for the person who held such a lovely voice. "This is my wife, Brandy!" JD had swung himself on top of the bar top just as Bruce was introducing his wife. He was about to wave them off, though took a quick double turn when he actually saw who Bruce's wide was. Then grew even more confused when Bruce was bombarded with 10... 11... maybe 12 kids?! "How do you?-" JD pointed towards Brandy and Bruce, managing to interject between all the kids and chaos; Asking the one question that him, Poppy, and Branch were thinking - maybe less Poppy, and more him and Branch. Yet still, how would such a relationship even work? Nevertheless work so well where they had so many children- wait no, JD scrunched his nose as the thoughts that came to mind. He subtly leaned away from the two, glancing between Branch and Poppy and Bruce and Brandy. He turned them out for a moment, glancing back at the open sitting area as everyone chatted and spoke, laughed and cackled, just having a good time. And that's when he saw a flash of color, different from the other warmer-tones. JD didn't notice the way his breath caught in his throat the moment you swung by, landing on the counter top with a skidded stop. Despite wearing roller blades, the wheels didn't bother you. "Brandy! You got the food for Skid and Mary?" "Oh hey! Guys, that's (Y/N), a worker of mine." Bruce cut in as Brandy nodded, ringing a bell before a basket of fries and burgers were pushed out from the kitchen. She would take them, slide them across the counter to you, and you would, as though these plates weren't triple your size, hooked your hair around the holes of the basket. "Thanks, gotta run! Oh- hey Bruce." A wave, bright smile, and you were off; having stopped in for a brief moment but completely capturing JD's attention once again. He couldn't help but watch as you skated off, dragging the plates behind you while dodging whoever and whatever came your way. "So they was singing." JD blurted, not exactly meaning to. Though he captured his brothers and Poppy's attention. Bruce simply crossed his arms, "Oh, (Y/N)? Yeah! They always sing while they work, sometimes they even take a break to entertain everyone with a musical number." Though JD didn't catch it, Branch give him a skeptical look; being quicker to catch onto the way JD looked on you and the slightly softer tone he had.

@!; JD wasn't sure what attracted him to you yet, but he found himself looking for you every second of their stay trying to convenience Bruce to come help save Floyd. Even during the 'Brozone's back' performance, he looked for your face in the crowd; trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of you and your rolling skating antics. When they were done, while Poppy and Bruce's family were cheering them on, his eyes were stuck on the crowd. His nose scrunched as he tried to keep old thoughts out of his head, wondering why you weren't here praising him for his singing or anything like that. No, he cannot think like that. He's growing, he's outgrown that mindset- "Earth to JD!" JD snapped out of his thoughts at Poppy frantically waving her hand in front of his face. A hard blink and he turned over to the staring company. Brandy had a knowing look, in which JD squinted at trying to decipher. Poppy playfully punched JD's arm, "Oh, good to have you back!" A big grin paired her child like antics, in which JD only laughed and brushed off. "What are you talking about, I've been here since the beginning. After all, I'm the one who found Floyd's lett-" Yet he wasn't able to finish before Branch cut in. "Yeah, half here. Ever since we stepped foot here you've been," And Branch waited no time drawing a circle at the side of his temple, pairing it with a whistle; effectively calling JD insane, or mainly out of it. Poppy playfully slapped Branch's arm away from his head, saying something about how that was rude to do. Branch smiled a little, but tried to keep a straight face, as he gestured over to JD with a 'come on' type of look. Poppy glanced over to JD for a moment then back at Branch, a silent agreement that she would try to make unobvious. Bruce simply chuckled at their antics. "What? What's funny?" JD pointed at Bruce, narrowing his eyes a little as his more laid-back brother. "Oh nothing.." And there was a hint in Bruce's voice that made it sound like there was more. Yet he didn't say anything, arms crossed, as he gave JD a knowing look. An oddly, really knowing look. It threw JD off. He wasn't that readable anymore, he wasn't how he was when the band was together and his brothers shouldn't know how he is! He didn't like that look. So he glanced away from Bruce. Yet there was a feeling in his gut that JD knew that Bruce had some sort of hint of what was distracting him.

@!; The mission had been delayed a day. Bruce needed to stay back for a day longer to help Brandy with the kids and figure out all the logistics of leaving so suddenly. JD had gone off on his own, letting Branch and Poppy do their own thing, as he went to go walk on the beach. There wasn't much else to do than to walk on the beach and take in the scene. He didn't exactly want to get into the water, despite how impressing it might be to you- And there his mind goes again! JD cursed himself and cursed his thoughts and cursed you!- Then he paused, with a scrunch of his nose. He couldn't curse you no matter how much he was irritated you infiltrated his thoughts. He hasn't even spoken to you! How would he know you would even like him? That he would even like you! "A little help!!" JD's attention snapped behind him as he heard the shout from an all too familiar voice. Yet he didn't have time to react, seeing a troll barreling towards him with their arms extended and a panic-stricken look. JD jumped out of the way, landing in the sand and purposefully with more force than needed to dig himself in. You whizzed by him and he quickly shot his hair our towards you, wrapping it around your waist and trying to hold onto the friction from the sand to slow you down. Yet, maybe he should have dug himself in deeper. He knew this as soon as his left foot lost footing and he shot forward, dragging across the sand and towards you. He tried grabbing onto something, yet you both only crashed into each other; And while that helped to stop you, it also caused you both to barrel and roll into the shore of the ocean, effectively drenching you both in salty water. JD groaned, laying in the mushy sand floor, feeling the waves crash up against him and recede slowly back once they came. He felt groggy, a little disorientated, yet he didn't have much time to reflect on that feeling when someone began to shake him. "Oh my god! Please don't be dead- please!" And with a few slaps to his cheek, JD shoved a hand into the face of whoever was trying to bother him at this moment. There was a silence for a moment, maybe out of shock, before JD heard the person beside him let out a deep sigh. It was a sigh like the weight of the world had been lifted off the person's shoulders, releasing them some sort of trouble or entanglement with liability. JD opened one eye when the ocean drew back again, keeping his eyes half-lidded, as he tried to see who was with him in the ocean. He swore he nearly died the minute that he saw you, soaking head to toe and looking down at him with the most worrisome look. He jolted up to a sit, not realizing his hand was still cupping your mouth until a moment later; When he drew it back, glancing down at it and back up at you, then cautiously placing it beside him. "Are you okay?" And despite how awkward this situation could be, you didn't make it that way. And JD slightly hoped it was because you saw the look on his face; The silent apology he couldn't bare himself to say. He's been working on himself, but he's not that level of worked on yet. Especially since he knew he owed a few people some big apologies.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." JD mumbled after a minute. He took in a deep breath before placing his hands on his knees and standing up, letting out the breath in a long sigh as he did so. "Oh- um! That's good." Your smile was anxious, a little weary, as you still sat in the mushy sand in the fire range of the waves. JD offered you his hand. You took it, allowing him to help you onto your feet. And that awkward silence along with a prolonged holding of hands. JD wasn't sure why, but he noticed the way your hand fit perfectly into his like all your hands were made to do was hold each other. He kind of didn't want to let go, but did so for the sake of comfortability. It would be awkward to hold hands with a strange, right? And no matter how many fangirls they had felt with in Brozone, JD would never know that answer. He guessed yes, by the way your eyes shifted to the left in an uncomfortable fashion. Yet he saw the way your eyes flicked back to his the moment he let go. He noticed the way your hand dropped to your side limp-like, and the small smile that crept to your face. There was some sort of glint in your eyes that drew JD in again. Though he couldn't exactly tell what that sparkle was for; he just hoped you were going the same way his brain was. "Hey," A pause, you were chewing over your words. "Would you like to talk over a basket of nachos?" "Were you reading my mind?" JD cocked up his eyebrow, giving you a snicker as he saw the cheeky look that rose on your face. "Maybe I am, you'll never know! But I have an employ discount I still have to use and this seems like the perfect occasion to take my break." And you grinned a grin that made JD feel like you were looking right through him; That you knew all his flaws and strengths all at once and yet still loved him for every single one of them. And maybe he was insane to think so. And maybe JD should get to know you better before he jumps to conclusions. But, shit, you had him hooked in a way no Troll has had him before.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[toastily]

simple little ficlet of the matter/antimatter doing crazy multiversal magic and making wade see his possible future afterlife instead of the one seen in DP2 ✨

He was dying again.

For the final time, he thinks. He knew what being ripped apart cell by cell felt like. He felt it constantly; his body dying and reviving itself thousands of times over every second.

This was different. He’d felt everything. His body crumbling apart for the final time, burning him alive and turning into nothing as the matter and anti-matter mixed inside his body. He felt every atom screaming, his body trying desperately to heal itself as he was dragged from his body and into the ether.

Then it was all over in an instant, and he was falling. That feeling so familiar to him now. Tumbling through the darkness and feeling it enveloping him, slowly stripping him of the pain that came with being alive. Tearing the cancer, the constant agonizing pain, from his body and letting him finally relax.

God, he’d missed this. He’d missed dying.

He dropped into his afterlife after what felt like hours of falling through the dark, expecting the familiar view of what was once his apartment with Vanessa, but that’s not what he saw.

It was his and Al’s apartment. But it was different, somehow. Clothes that weren’t his strewn across his shitty futon, furniture was moved, a new chair was added to the already mismatched living room. The walls were a different color. There were new framed pictures on the walls, but they all looked greyed out and blurry.

“What the shit?” He mumbled under his breath, spinning in a slow circle as he took in what he was starting to assume wasn’t actually his afterlife. He felt on edge. He was supposed to know what to expect here, it wasn’t supposed to be a fucking surprise.

That comforting feeling of home was dragging on the edges of his subconscious like desperate claws, telling him to relax, accept his final resting place, but he couldn’t let himself give in. There was something wrong.

He spotted a dirty, old ash tray with a cigar that was slowly leaking smoke propped in it sitting on the kitchen counter. He zoned in on it. Neither he or Al ever touched cigars.

Then he saw it. A ghost is truly the best way he could describe it. An unfinished shape that was clearly supposed to be a person. It blurred his vision, made his eyes water when he looked directly at it.

He could catch the vague idea of what it was supposed to be. A man, tall and broad, leaning against the counter and looking out the window above the sink. The feeling that bore a hole deep into his chest as he looked at whoever this man is was the exact same one he’d felt last time he was here while Ness was still dead.

Love, deep and unending. And he didn’t even know why.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes, trying his hardest to focus them on the ghost but no matter what he could only catch the very edges of him. Someone that looked so deeply familiar but wholly foreign.

The visual of this thing made his entire body ache with confusion and anxiety. He felt like he was going to vomit as his eyes refused to focus directly on it.

He took a hesitant step forward, but before he could make it very far he hit the familiar wall of his immortality. “Fuck, come on! I thought I was finally fucking done!” He yelled, slamming his fist against the invisible wall that held him from what was waiting for him. Who was waiting for him.

The shape moved, Wade could somehow tell it was turning to look at him.

“Wade?” The fuzzy sound of a voice, low and gruff, echoed through the room. It sounded like it was rooms away, but he knew it came from the ghost.

It hit him, then. He knew exactly who it was. “Peanut?” He asked, voice uncertain as he squinted at the shape. “Logan, what the fuck-”

He was ripped back hard, torn back from whatever fucked up version of his home that was supposed to be. He was dragged through the darkness again, much faster this time, landing directly back into his barely-alive body with a hard gasp.

[saint-vagrant]

for the love of god stop with these Rational Thinkers' paragraph + italicised "VOTE!" posts. is anyone moved by this? i've seen "vote for whoever you like, but just vote" VOTE FOR WHOEVER BUT JUST DO IT? BRO! that's somehow more pathetic than demanding that you back biden or else you're too young and too old and too stupid and too academic and ultimately a traitor if you came to a different conclusion and act, to your best ability, in accordance with your ethics.

like yeah you'll do whatever and so will i, i guess. but it's psychically painful to see this totally coincidental influx specifically since october 2023. people calling leftists (well specifically anti-imperialists &/ communists) "russian/chinese/3rd party agents" who are "lying to you to stop you from voting." it's been worded as "your friends are lying to you." that is so cool. it's like 2016 in here. yday i saw "voting isn't about which leader will sign off on your glorious revolution" which is such a snide misunderstanding of... most things, i think? it's giving "proudly launching headfirst down stairwell." more than half the time i check out OP, they're openly a zionist, or end up there by default in the sense of being a bland milquetoast etiquette-obsessed "let people enjoy things" centrist who's so mistrusting of information or pattern recognition that if you possess either you're corrupted by "ideology."

why would it be necessary to lie? what purpose for a big convoluted conspiracy? for whom IS this simplistic, condescending, dispassionate shit anyway??? surely not for the people whose families are burning alive, thanks to the american government who robs and brutalises its own people in order to fund further massacres. because how could you look that person in the face and tell them "no, you don't know fuckall about how things run around here. now is the time for political decorum" ?? there must be such a sense of comfort in the idea that those people are "over there." like i think it's pretty unfortunate that a lot of these posts begin by citing some ~dramatic~ ~babybrained~ "take" committed by disgruntled "western" posters (who are spies) but when i heard the source, or when i go find it, it's by a palestinian or muslim person or just someone from whom it like, kind of makes sense why they feel the way they do! but then it's characterised in such a vague wussy ass way! huh??!!! like it seems very convenient to ignore WHO is organising/mobilising/criticising, WHO is protesting and abstaining, so that these posts come off more sound and reasonable than the leftist sleeper agents who appeal to emotion over sense. and i'm not even telling you not to vote! i'm wondering why it's so impossible to conceive of a reality where a marginalised person or group concludes that the health and safety of their community will be sought and achieved through other means. you really can't imagine that? that's dumb to you?

so i guess i, too, don't care what the hell you do with your precious little life, but it is So Fucked to talk down to people about genocide like it's a petty, inconvenient wedge issue we have to sidestep for the greater good. fwiw voting isn't wholly irrelevant to me, And Also, i understand being against a system means, for many, abstaining from its approved tools and pouring efforts into direct action. this is not a new approach! greater good is sought and achieved mainly and actively on the ground— not from above. moreover, there is no good greater than opposing and ending genocide for fuck's sake! jesus!

[zippidi-dooda]

Need some Rollo right now. Bit risqué but I need that "Rollo is not such a good guy" quality to it, ya know?

Everyone gives a different look when longing for someone.

A soft smile, unconsciously spreading. Eyes focused with a dreamy stare on the object of their affection. The light slouch of the shoulders as they enter their most relaxed state.

So content with even just admiring.

There's even the other end of the spectrum. No hopelessly loving gazes sent one's way, and those that do slip through the facade are quickly caught and hidden behind a hand.

Cheeks burn bright with embarrassment and worry as they hope no one saw it. Eyes burning with a soft rage or annoyance as they blame their feelings on whoever they've set their sights on.

The angry glare fading away into that lovelorn glow that pulls a smile out of even the most emotionless of character.

Rollo scoffs at the lecherous fiends whom show even trace amounts of interest in another.

He can't wrap his head around why they'd waste so much time worrying and pining when there was nothing to it in the end.

Especially with such high uncertainty of affections being remotely returned.

He knew he'd certainly never waste his time on such a menial thing.

No sir, he'd keep his head on straight should such a person were to divert his attention.

He certainly never caught himself smiling unconsciously when he laid eye on you.

Or troubled to tear his wandering eyes from you to his work and tasks in front of him.

He never found himself sighing wistfully when mention of your name fluttered by his ear.

Or saw you constantly in the things he viewed and objects he owned.

And certainly hadn't fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, seeing you dancing in the embers like an enchanting goddess meant to tempt the very fire of his soul.

Or woken up in a panicked sweat, hat askew and needing to cover himself from anyone wanting to come in to speak to him.

No, he had never looked down at himself in a fury, hands fumbling to make himself decent, blaming you for tormenting his thoughts day and night like a parasite longing to drain him of his sensibilities.

He never found himself biting his lip in anticipation behind his handkerchief when he'd see you everyday after that.

He never took the chance to seek glances your way or schedule things so he'd have more time in your presence.

He certainly had never gone towards you under the cover of the night planning to take his ruminating into reality.

And had never stopped himself before entering your room, too entranced by your shadow melting through the lightly curtained window to watch as you draped yourself for the evening.

No, the heat never rose to his cheeks from his loins as he stared bewitched by you.

No.

Not him.

He was better than that.

When he entered your room without warning, locking the door behind him, he was able to confront his undone doings.

He admitted it to you.

All of his thoughts and gazes, his actions and dreams, everything since laying eye on you.

As he ecased you to the bed, that giddy smile was unshakable. His doting was abundantly clear to the both of you now.

As he confessed it all, caressing your forgiving skin, wandering over your forbidden sweetness, sizing himself up for the act that all who look upon another, so desperately, wish for.

Now he understood.

Why all those fools waste such precious time on those feeble moments of admiring.

It was a wholly enchanting sight that would not be satisfied until given heed to, like watching a candle burn down to the wick, breathing in all the intoxicating scent that attracted on in the first place.

It was a desire to indulge in and be selfishly savored.

And savor he shall.

That delightful expression on your face would be one not long forgotten.

He smiled, making himself even more entwined with you as you pushed at him.

He burring himself against your hair instead, reveling in that oh so addictive scent that could only accompany one so captivating.

You may be upset now. You may hate him for his sudden decisiveness.

But, eventually, you'd forgive him.

You returned his affections after all, didn't you?

You had to, he wouldn't have set his sights on you in the first place if you didn't, right?

Yes, those were cries of joy he heard fall like honey from your lips just now.

Just relax and enjoy the fruits of his labor, Y/N dear.

For there is plenty more to come.

[noxturnals-void]

My Dearest Shadow

Jason Voorhees x GN! Reader

Pt. 2

(It might lean fem at times but I’m going to try my best to keep it neutral for everyone!)

Read Pt 1 here

Tw: stalking, paranoia, jason shenanigans

(I’m forcing you to enjoy tea and baking, and there’s nothing you can do about it ✨💖)

1,018 words below the cut

Previously in Chapter 1:

Your eagerness got the better of you, and you turned around despite the loud thumping in your chest. There was nothing at first as you searched through the closest trees. A figure quickly moved to the side at the edge of your vision- a very large figure. You gulped, scanning the tree line and focusing on a thick tree trunk hiding the person well. Whoever they were, they were most definitely right there, and to your knowledge, this was the closest encounter you'd had with them while awake.

You tried to think of something to say, pondering if you should have said anything at all in this tense moment.

What were you supposed to do…?

—

He was there. He had been here since you'd arrived near the camp. He didn't know how long it had been since the last few teenagers had come around, and he had slaughtered them all. But now you were here... you'd been here longer than he expected.

Once he realized how close you were to the campgrounds, he was inclined to kill you, just like all the others.

It took quite a few days of convincing from his mother to spare you, telling him you were different. You were not a threat. From then on, he only watched from afar, through your windows and from the tree line, as you fixed up the cottage you apparently owned. He didn't recognize it, not that he spent much time surveying areas past the campgrounds.

You became somewhat of an obsession. His days were mostly spent between your house, watching you go about your day, and patrolling the campgrounds. He made it an unconscious habit to ensure you woke up, ate something, and were safe as you worked around the small cabin.

He had held himself back several times. You were clumsy and nearly always found a way to hurt yourself from your extraneous activities, but he could never risk revealing himself to you. You’d injured yourself more than once, and it took everything in him not to rush to your side. But he restrained himself. As difficult as it was.

By the end of the first year you had been here, he was way beyond obsessed with you. He paid attention to everything you did in the utmost detail. How you liked tea over coffee, how you enjoyed baking- and how he enjoyed the smell it gave the air around your home. How you laughed at seemingly invisible things you saw, how your eyes wandered toward the lake every so often, how you stared off and sighed as you finished a thought. Your habit of pacing as you mumbled to yourself. Your music tastes from what he could hear you play beyond your cabin walls. He didn’t care about the music, just your angelic voice that sang or hummed along.

He took in everything you did and wasn't wholly oblivious—he knew that you knew he was there. Though he never risked you seeing him, the last thing he wanted was to scare you away—he wanted you to stay. He wanted you to be here and live close to where he defended. In his mind, your property was now part of his. Your land was an extension of his land that he so carefully protected.

He would keep you safe; he would be your silent protector, your shadow. But if you'd seen him, you would have run in a heartbeat like all the others.

He understood he was intimidating- large and bulky, towering over everyone he'd ever come across, strong enough to scare anyone- you'd be frightened at just his body in front of you. He figured the mask would throw you off, and he could never expect someone else- especially someone so attractive as you- to accept him the way he was. Perhaps it would’ve been different if he looked “normal”. Maybe then he would’ve had just a chance.

He had made the mistake of making noise this time. His approach was closer than usual, standing just past the first few trees lining the side of your home.

You had been deep in thought, mumbling as you dug out a garden bed and planted a small sprinkle of unidentifiable seeds in each hole your small hand scooped out. You looked like an angel sitting there on the ground, hair messily out of the way and your clothing caked in mulch and soil.

How you cared so carefully for each hole you dug and how gingerly you maneuvered the plants that had already taken sprout in small plastic containers had him reeling for you- much more than smitten at this point. How gentle you were. How soft and caring you were to the flora. How you seemed to whisper to the tiny sprouts as if they could hear you. It made him even more head-over-heels.

The snap of a twig under his thick boot was all it took, a step closer to lean beyond the tree to ogle you more intently as you stood from the ground and stretched out like some divine being before him. You noticeably froze at the sound but didn't whip around as he expected- and prepared for already leaning away to escape your gleaming eyes that would no doubt hold fear at his presence being known.

Instead, you remained calm, finishing stretching out before turning cautiously. Your pause threw him off, and he had to move quickly to hide behind the tree. He stood stiff as a board, tuning into your silence and hoping he'd been fast enough that you hadn't seen much of him. A worry you had caught sight of his form bloomed in his chest, a worry that melted into insecure anxiety.

He couldn’t move now. He couldn’t turn and walk away, not that he had any desire to. He didn’t want you seeing any more of him than you already had. He was stuck behind this tree. Stuck and too nervous to think of what to do next.

What was he supposed to do…?

Tags:

@imhungry675

[cactusringed]

hiya can i ask u for bdubs character arc thoughts. i feel like this season has been a major turning point for him in a lot of ways, going from dead weight to killing the dragon and i love him very dearly for it.

I am honestly so, so excited to see more of bdubs this season and really want him to win if only because it would wrap a bow on a beautiful, beautiful character arc we're seeing unfolding.

Something about bdubs is that he doesn't, actually, believe in himself. He doesn't. All of his grand talk of him being the best at x or y is all, well, talk. He's very alike to Joel in that regard, though they both express is in slightly different ways; he's self conscious. He feels small. Inadequate. He feels like he has to prop himself up on a pedestal because no one else will. And he's so... Not used to it, that when he does receive outward praise, he either doesn't believe it, thinks it's a joke, or gets wildly uncomfortable.

There's almost this fear of disappointment in him. Disappointing etho or whoever else he's allied with, whoever else he looks up to, or who might look up to him. He very quickly pushes himself to the sidelines for the sake of someone he believes to be worth more. He knows he has worth, but that worth can only be used to push those he loves forward. Never himself. Never.

He wants to be the best he can be, for others.

It's to the point he's convinced himself he's less than, that he's weak, that he's not brave. He might laugh it off when he's called a dead weight, but before anyone even said it he wholly believed it.

Not anymore, though. Bit by bit, it's breaking. He's not being allowed to put himself on the sidelines. He's not being allowed to run and cry to Etho anymore. Etho may regret it, but him refusing to help bdubs with the dragon - it started something. Or perhaps just hastened something that was already happening.

I genuinely believe it to be such a huge stepping stone for bdubs' character arc this series. The side character who killed the dragon. The kingmaker become king. With a past winner rooting for him - not outwardly protecting him, but instead offering her strength - and one of the most fiercely loyal and passionate ally one can get.

Perhaps one could think of him hiding from the wither as a step back. But I think it's a step forward. Learning to choose his battles. Learning the difference between bravery and foolishness. Taking a page from Etho's book, instead of holding him as an unattainable role model.

Learning that there is value in him living. That he should live, not just because he's scared to die, but because he will be genuinely, horribly missed.

Learning there is value in himself to the point he allows himself to feel rage over losing a life for nothing, losing a life because of someone else's cruelty.

I really, really, really look forward to seeing more of that. Of brave bdubs, who was always brave, but might finally be able to see in himself what he sees in others. And make the rest of them see it, too. No more will he be mocked. No more "etho can't protect you now". He's Bdubs. Brave, strong, and loved Bdubs.

[wekasuwi]

Maybe calling a trans man a woman AINT the way to go.

Even if you personally read it differently, choose a character without such a complicated gender identity if you’re not about to cover it properly. You come off transphobic.

I watched a show called Blue Eyed Samurai, I’m sure you did too. Mizu’s character, is one troubled by revenge and the need to survive in a culture where women are inherently oppressed.

Now, I see where you might have read Mizu to be a trans man. There is imagery that relates to the struggle of being a trans person, the binding of breasts, the sort of ambiguity about their identity, and many other factors. But my perception is based entirely on the context clues given by the writers during Mizu’s screentime. From a young age, Mizu’s “mother” tries to hide their identity by cutting their hair, “You must be a boy. Always a boy.” Because it is for the sake of hiding their shameful heritage and protecting their livelihood. Another example of this ambiguity and where it sways to their identity being a woman, is their life with Mikio, where being wholly a woman for a period of time, led to a betrayal and a reminder as to why it was so important to hide themselves under the guise of a man. So the context clues here are not concrete, they all point in different directions.

Perceiving a character differently than what you perceive it isn’t transphobic. There’s a lot of opinions on the internet about this and I think , whoever you are, that you should consider other people’s opinions, not just your own. There are plenty of reads of Mizu’s character that you should probably take a look at. There are people that read canonically cis characters as transgender and that’s perfectly okay, that’s their head canon and it’s great. In cases, people will often do queer readings of their favorite shows/books/movies and the one that serves as a fine example of this is the queer reading of ‘The Great Gatsby’.

I do not need to justify myself not being a transphobe for the sake of some disagreement with no base of accusation. I suggest that before you do something as offensive and harmful as accusing someone of being transphobic, you read on the subject of what being a transphobe is really about. If Mizu were to outright say that they are more comfortable with masculine pronouns and canonically indicate a transition, then that would be canon. But alas, that doesn’t happen and it does remain ambiguous. And whereas Mizu were to outright state that they are a transgender man, what kind of person would I be to deny or shame that?

I’m a part of the LGBTQIA+ community that loves all people, in any identity that they may choose. That is inherent of my character and not influenced by my take on a show.

[proxissima]

Tenya Iida vs Stain

POV Iida:

It won't go like it did in Hosu, Hero Killer. I haven't earned the right to carry on the name Ingenium yet, but I'm different now. Things have changed since the last time we fought. I'll hit you with everything I've learned since then!

I'll admit there's some truth to your words. I was definitely giving precedence to my grudges then. I was only able to see myself, my own pain. But, I'll say it once again to be clear- whatever you'd like me to believe, you're to blame!

Ingenium is the name of a hero who ran at max speed to whoever was in trouble. This is what I was aiming for, what I wanted to be! To be worthy of that name! I can't make that mistake again, I'll defeat you as a hero!

_

POV Stain:

It seems you're fired up to make amends. But it's useless. You can't change who you are that easily. You'll never be anything more than a fake. *Sigh* I will purge you!

That's fast! I can see you've also been working on your body. It looks like you've at least improved upon a quirk that should only amount to be something wholly predictable. Regardless, your attempts are futile.

Someone who has dedicated themselves to revenge can never be a hero. Therefore, the moment you went after me seeking revenge for your brother, you became nothing more than a faker, only out to satisfy your own selfish desires.

Credit to RageVG on Reddit for extracting the files from the game.

[General Overview]

[darling-archeron]

Behold, my final submission for @officialfeysandweek2023! Day 7: Free Day

Feyre Archeron is stuck. She looks after her family home, she waits on her stepmother and stepsisters, and she dreams of a world where things could be different. Even if ever since her father's death, things have been unimaginably bleak. Across the Kingdom, Crown Prince Rhysand lives a completely different life, longing to escape his royal duties.

A Feysand Ever After AU

Rated G, 2.3k words

Rhysand was fuming.

Tonight’s meeting with the King and Queen had gone far worse than usual. They were insistent upon an arranged marriage, and his father refused to see reason.

It was utterly ridiculous. After all, his father had entered an arranged marriage, and both of his parents were miserable. More than anything, he felt betrayed by his mother. She had been slightly more lenient than the king, but still firm.

She had never wanted to marry his father, she would have been the first to admit that she was unhappy in her marriage.

And yet, she insisted he “seriously start looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with,” or he would be stuck with whoever his father picked.

For not the first time, Rhys envied his younger sister. Stella would never have to deal with the burden of ruling, and he would never force her into an arranged marriage if he had any say in the matter.

Storming through the empty halls, Rhys reached his room at last and was met with stern glances from two of his least favorite guards.

So, his parents thought he meant to escape, did they?

Well, they were fools if they ever thought he would escape using the front door – especially after he had already done so once.

It would seem there was only one thing to do. Rhys eyed his bed, piled with sheets despite the blistering heat.

There were certainly enough to form a rope.

By the time his parents had burst into his room, he had scaled down the wall, snuck to the stables, and secured his favorite horse.

From there, he was flying down the road, cutting through the woods and leaving the roads. He couldn’t hear the thunder of the guards behind him, not yet.

For now, it was only him and the night air. He could pretend to be no one for a while.

-

Feyre groaned softly as she cracked open bleary eyes. The crow of the rooster had awoken her, but she was hardly ready to get up.

Silently, she debated the merits of staying in bed for a few more minutes. This time of day, nobody would be looking for her, and she could stay asleep. But there would be hell to pay if she slept too long and her stepmother found her still in bed.

Well – bed wasn’t exactly the best word for it. Rather than climb the rickety attic stairs to her drafty room, she had fallen asleep on a blanket near the hearth the night before. It hadn’t been comfortable, but it had been warm. She had made the most of the fire’s dying light by doing a few rough sketches on scraps of parchment.

And now, she was paying the price for it, judging by the ache in her back. Stifling another groan, she thrust her upper body up, blinking the dreams away from her bleary eyes.

The fire had died throughout the night – even the embers had cooled. Her sketches still remained, safely out of the way of the flames that had burned hours before. She reached for the one on top of her little stack – a simple landscape of the ridge past the house, to the north. It was the favorite spot of Alis, another servant at the estate.

Or at least, she had been.

Three days prior, Feyre’s wretched stepmother had sold Alis off to pay her debts.

Actually ­sold her. It made Feyre’s blood boil, to think of loving, hardworking Alis alone, somewhere wholly unfamiliar, treated like a piece of property. Her family - completely unable to reach her.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do. She had pled with the debt collectors to take her instead, but according to her stepmother, Feyre still had value here. 

As far as Feyre could see, the only value was unpaid labor. The other servants received a wage, no matter how meager. As part of the family, Feyre’s work was just “helping out around the house,” and thus not worthy of pay.

So, she had been wholly unable to help Alis. Unable to do anything but remember her friend by sketching out her favorite spot.

She couldn’t help but think it looked rather pathetic in the morning light. Her artistic skills were hardly anything to write home about.

Still, she gathered the scraps carefully, tucking them away into a space between two bricks where she could retrieve them later and stow them away in her room. She wasn’t worried about her family finding them – they never bothered to come down to the kitchen – but they could easily be swept up in the chaos of the day. Her drawings might not have been much, but they were one of the few things that were hers, all the same.

Feyre rose to her feet and dusted off her skirts, dirty with soot and grime. Her cheek itched as well – a sure sign that there was a giant smudge of soot staining it. Good thing the only ones to see her this morning would be the goats and chickens. If she hurried with her chores, she could clean up a bit before serving breakfast to her stepmother, and hopefully avoid a verbal beating.

At the very least, it was a beautiful morning. The late summer sun’s heat was already showing its strength, though it was just past sunrise.

Shoving on her worn boots, Feyre grimaced as she laced them up. They were too small to be laced tight, but if she left them loose, she’d be as likely to trip. Nesta had gotten another new pair of slippers the week prior, but Feyre’s contributions hadn’t been deemed important enough to warrant a new pair of boots.

She took a deep breath and vowed to let it go. She had been nursing the injustice for the last week, and complaining about it wouldn’t change things.

She knew without thinking about it what needed to be done this morning. Taking care of the animals always came first, and then a trip to their small orchard. The apples were starting to ripen, and if she picked some this morning, the cook could have something made for tea this afternoon. 

Still a bit drowsy, she trudged over to the chicken coop, the door creaking as she unlatched it.

A few of the hens greeted her with gentle clucks, and Feyre murmured back to them as she checked for eggs. Their chickens were some of the best layers around – she always made sure nothing had happened to the prized birds in the night. Otherwise, the whole family would be missing the income at the next market day.

Just as she was walking back to the house, she heard the thundering of hooves in the distance. A sizable group, by the sound of it – and approaching quickly.

She turned back to the road, eggs gathered in her basket, just in time to see a dozen men speeding by on horseback. Each was a blur of black and navy – the colors of the crown. They didn’t pause, though she thought a few might have spared her a glance as they thundered on.

Interesting. Who were the Royal Guard on the hunt for?

The men were gone as quickly as they came, sparing no time to pause and ask her questions. She knew she didn’t look to be of much importance – and it was no matter. If there was news, her stepmother and stepsisters would know of it by noon, and the house would be filled with their chatter.

No sense in wasting daylight, Feyre decided, still holding the basket of eggs. She made her way back to the house, deposited the eggs in the kitchen, and set out to the orchard. It was only a few minutes away from the house, and the apples were so plentiful that she didn’t even need a ladder to fill her basket.

She was making her way back to the house again when she heard a sharp whinny – followed by rapid hoofbeats.

It was coming from the stable.

Feyre knew with absolute certainty that nobody in her family would be riding a horse, much less this early. That meant one thing – a horse thief. They lived in the countryside, they would be an easy target for bandits.

And she would be damned if she let them get away with one of her father’s prized horses.

Nearly spilling her basket of apples, she sharply turned around, rounding the corner of the house in time to see a cloaked figure astride a horse with a shining coat as black as night.

Bryaxis – her father’s favorite stallion.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Feyre muttered to herself, hardly thinking before she sprung into action.

She sprinted towards the thief as fast as her skirts would allow, ripe apple in hand instantly.

“Stop! Thief!” she shouted. “Halt right there!”

Bryaxis slowed at the sound of her voice, bucking against his strange rider.

“My horse threw its shoe!” the masked figure protested – with a man’s deep voice. “What would you have me do?”

The audacity – because his horse threw a shoe, it was her problem? What kind of entitled prick was she dealing with?

Closer now, she could see his finely made navy cloak in greater detail, but the thief was turned away from her, hiding his face. If she had to guess, she would have said he was a younger man.

Young or old, there was no way in hell he was getting away with this, and she skidded to a halt in the grass, regained her footing, and threw the apple. Half her basket spilled in the attempt.

It missed by a hair, flying past his shoulder.

“Fix your own horse! Or ask for help!” she shouted right back, “instead of stealing from good people!”

She scooped up another fallen apple from the ground, her aim steadier this time. It hit the man square in the forehead, sending him flying off Bryaxis. A rush of satisfaction rushed through her – that ought to show him that she wasn’t to be trifled with.

He hit the ground with a thud, thrashing against the pompous velvet cloak he had gotten twisted up in. Feyre darted forward and snatched the horse’s reigns, whispering calming nothings to the spooked animal. Bryaxis was her father’s best stallion, but he was also the most reactive.

“Leave us be!” shouted Feyre again for good measure. She gripped another apple, ready to throw it if the man came towards her. It was starting to sink in that she had been rash – there was no telling if he was armed or not. If he was willing to steal a horse, who knew what else he was willing to do to a woman alone? Other than the apples, which would only get her so far in close combat, she was unarmed.

The thief stumbled to his feet – and Feyre debated the merits of hitting him squarely with another apple, but she didn’t have time to act on it.

His hood fell away, and Feyre found herself gazing into a face everyone in the kingdom knew. Before her stood Prince Rhysand.

Shit. 

She released the reigns and dropped to the ground before he could utter a word. Her knees screamed in pain as sharp stones pressed into them, but she dropped her forehead to the ground, face burning.

“Your Highness, please, forgive me. I didn’t see you,” she begged. 

She was dead. Well and truly dead. The ruling family of Velaris wasn’t known for their mercy, and she had assaulted the Crown Prince. If she was even more unlucky, they would take it out on her entire family.

Oh, Gods.

She didn’t dare look up, but she thought she heard him – snort? “Well, your aim would suggest otherwise,” he remarked. 

Fear gripped her heart, and she knew she ought to spout a thousand more apologies, but –

“Your face was hidden,” she rushed. “I wouldn’t have given chase if I knew it was you, your highness. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“So a horse thief is excused if he is royal?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Feyre said, tongue burning with the lie. “I cannot presume to know your motivations.”

He was silent, and she dared glance up a hair. The Prince was swinging himself back into Bryaxis’s saddle.

Of course, he still intended on taking the horse. He was still an entitled prick – just a royal one.

“Rise,” Prince Rhysand said.

She picked herself up, dusting the gravel off her skirt.

“Is that true?” he asked. “You wouldn’t have given chase if you knew it was me?”

“I wish you no ill will, Your Highness.”

“Well then. For your silence.”

She dared meet his eyes, but she couldn’t read what she saw in his guarded expression. She looked away again, hating herself for it as she heard the rustle of fabric and the jangle of coins, and then round pieces of gold were spilling on the ground before her.

More gold than plenty of people saw in a year – more than she had seen in a long time.

Before she could do anything other than stare in shock, Prince Rhysand snapped the reigns and was gone, taking her father’s horse with him.

Feyre dropped to her knees again and began counting the gold.

-

AN: Thank you for reading! I'm not completely sure where this is going yet, but it was a lot of fun to write.

Feysand week has been a blast to take part in this year. I've had so much fun creating, and now I have so much content from other talented creators to catch up on!

taglist:

@thron3ofbooks @the-lonelybarricade @swankii-art-teacher  @ghostlyrose2  @brieq @cretaceous-therapod @live-the-fangirl-life @achernarlight @reverie-tales @starfall-spirit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @highladysith @areyoudreamingof

[historia-vitae-magistras]

alfred straight up murdering his brother on accident just because he walked too quietly into the room is so fucking funny but how terrifying is alfred to regular humans? If he goes to casually throw some ridicously heavy thing he's working on over to the intern or whoever theyre not gonna get back up on their feet to chew him out for it lol. also... getting shot and squished by bisons still hurts like all hell right? does matthew start to get wary around him or is he just too used to it to be all that bothered?

Lmao right? I very much enjoy using these characters, especially fleshy loony-tune-style horror shows because good fucking god, it's funny. But its also very fun? Alfred javelining people into the water must be so fun. Alfred casually picks up Matt when he's on the sofa because he dropped his keys behind it. He will randomly rip up troublesome trees in someone's fields in the middle of the night. This is not a wholly negative, angsty or even humourous trait.

So for humans... not very as an adult. I think. Generally, Alfred puts his people at ease. He's handsome, funny, intelligent and friendly. Man has that kind of crooked smile and easy charm. The charisma, luck and social skills of the gambler and the grifters and drifters of the old Westerns if not the old West. When he was little and had less control because he'd get excited, I could see him getting himself in trouble and accidentally committing some violence. As an adult, I think he's much more careful around humans, and the only time he tends to bust out the super strength is to prevent accidentally killing humans. Picking up a car in front of someone getting aggressive will contain that person's aggression goddamn fast.

As for if things hurt, yes. Superheroes and Gods are boring for me to write about. I like making these fuckers creepy and overpowered sometimes, but I'm most invested in their humanity. So time to do the math. The average bison is about 816 to 1,088 kg, and the most recent record for a deadlift was 487 kg. So on the lower end of that, 816 divided by 487 is about 1.67; redeploy that as a percentage that's about 160% the strength of what's currently possible. I personally think this is why this dork is always snacking, so it has some effect on his metabolism and his physiology. He's not going to starve to death as fast as he should with that metabolism because there's that nation fuckery there, but my boy is peckish. So now that I've laid that nonsense out, I generally make him about 160% more resilient than the strongest human (yeah, my browser history is fucked, what about it?), but not in all ways because biologically, that would fuck up his brain something fierce cerebellum be whack big and I like my nerdy NASA boy. But I try to keep that 160 in mind, so it might sometimes be consistent? Maybe? But yeah, he's durable and walks away from a lot of things that most people wouldn't, but he can be shot, dropped, smashed, hit, etc. And his pain tolerance is limited because, again, that removes too much vulnerability and why are we invested in this nerd? Lord knows it's not patriotism on my end. Strong, but not indestructible.

Now with the biology and the physical aspect of my stupid brain's explanation of this yankee doodle dumbass (affectionate) articulated, onto the emotional and interpersonal consequences. This is a bit meta, but Alfred's perception of himself and his loved ones can reflect this fandom and canon. I don't know if canon makes them twins, but many people do despite some intrinsic differences in history, progress, culture and values. It's a valid take because who wants to lord over other people or think about being the superpower and the empire? And passport privilege, cultural dominance, and political hegemony are things that only come into play when we're online or in some sort of international situation. The world revolves around the US, but Alfred's 'first amongst equals' with the laurels of power is not his default setting. At home, he just wants to be another person. Abroad, he has to function on a different set of rules, and leadership, and that arrogance only comes out at certain points. He wants to be human, he wants to be loved, he wants to be normal. And it hurts his fucking feelings to be reminded he isn't, that it is lonely at the top, that no matter how similar, the Trudeau quote applies.

Matt's used to him, and Alfred's reasonably careful, but the gulf between them, Alfred's ability to just steamroll him if he wanted to (even if Matt would give him a hell of a fight) does leave its marks. Matt tries as hard not to show it as much as Alfred tries not to crush him. He's overjoyed about something and goes in for a hug, and there go a couple of subluxing ribs as he kind of affectionately slaps Alfred's shoulder like "indoor muscles! Indoor muscles, bud!" And its mainly because Alfred doesn't like thinking about being a weirdo, and Matt doesn't want to remind him. They want to be as equal as possible, but physics is a thing.

[ruiningsalads]

I'm trying something different. I have started a multi-chapter slow burn Cullen/Amell story, where Amell was never recruited to the Grey Wardens.

the first chapter is below. the rest will be added on AO3, but not sure if I'll post them on tumblr yet.

And so we burned

Chapter 1: Harmony in all things

Rated T for mentions of past abuse. 1,240 words.

As with most respectable libraries, the apprentices’ library in Kinloch Hold maintained a quiet atmosphere, though it was enforced by the ever-watchful templars stationed regularly along the walls. Oppressive, some murmured when their guardians were out of earshot. The eldest apprentices — barely adults, but few in their twenties — were the bravest with their whispers, many having lived within the Tower for most of their lives. But the youngest among them — children just learning to write in large, sloppy scrawls — regarded them with wide-eyed fear. Solona Amell did not join in the discontented whispers. Her attention was wholly on the task before her, carefully copying notes on the lesser known qualities and uses of healing herbs. She liked the quiet of the library and the unity it forged amongst her peers. Regardless of age, rank, field of study, and whoever they were before the Circle, they were all there for the common purpose of learning. Across the table from where she sat, a quill paused mid-sentence, ink threatening to blot the parchment beneath. Glancing up, she saw Jowan’s eyes fixed on something off to the side. His lips twisted into a sneer as he hissed, “There’s a new templar, a young one.” His voice was low and intended for her ears alone. “Probably some farmer’s son looking to live out his power fantasies over us wicked mages.” It wasn’t an unfair assumption. They had seen it before: the bright-eyed young templar from some far-off farmland who seemed earnest around Greagoir, but then backhanded the first apprentice who took too long to obey a command. Those were the worst type, the templars who seemed kind but turned cruel as soon as no one was watching. The ones who were cruel openly, at least they were honest. After over a decade in the Tower, Solona no longer felt excitement when someone new arrived. When she was younger, she saw it as an opportunity to learn of the outside world and hear new stories; but it only took one bad experience with a templar to sour that curiosity. Now, a new templar meant that there was an unknown in her life she would have to puzzle out. She finished her page of notes and gently flapped the parchment in the air to dry the ink as she let her gaze wander the library. Her eyes skimmed over her fellow apprentices, most of whom had taken notice of the new arrival. Some appeared utterly unconcerned, returning their attention to their studies after a cursory glance. Like Jowan, some sneered and whispered under their breath to their companions.  When her gaze finally found the new templar, she wasn’t prepared for the strange, swooping sensation in her belly. He was tall and muscular, yet gangling — as though he hadn’t quite grown into his adult body yet. From this distance, she couldn’t make out much detail beyond the tight curls of his blonde hair and his short beard, but something about him drew her in like a moth to flame. He was talking quietly to another templar, one of the seniors, when he glanced over and locked eyes with her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they gazed at each other across the quiet library. Solona felt heat rising in her cheeks and was helpless to stop it as her heart stuttered into overtime within her chest. Something, some power, anchored her eyes to his, and she was completely unable to look away. Until Jowan waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Solona? Where did you go?” The spell broke, and she shook her head to clear it. “I… I don’t know what came over me.” Her companion snorted. “I’d say you have a crush on our new templar friend.” He shook his head and flipped through the pages of the massive book laid out before him. “Trust me, that never ends well.” Her response nearly came out as a shout, but at the last moment, she lowered her voice to a hiss. “I do not have a crush on a templar!”

His answering smirk was infuriatingly smug. “I suppose you’re blushing for no reason, then?”

"Perhaps I’m blushing because my friend is being an ass,” she retorted bitterly. She tried to ignore his soft chuckle as she returned her attention to her work, but try as she might, her eyes would not focus on the words she had written so neatly not long ago. All of her attention was aimed in the direction of the new templar, whose name she didn’t yet know. When she was sure Jowan was distracted with his own work, she chanced another glance. He was gone.

Unexpected disappointment twisted in her gut. Solona returned her attention to her notes, suppressing a sigh. Was Jowan snickering?

“Doesn’t have a crush, she says,” he muttered to himself as he idly turned a page. “Yet she looks like a kicked puppy when he leaves.”

He let out a satisfying yelp when she kicked him under the table.

Eventually, she was able to wrestle her mind back under control and devoted the next several hours to studying. Jowan left early, citing a sudden need to visit the chantry before limping away, favoring his bruised shin. Gradually, the other mages filtered out, either done with their work or too tired to continue for the day. But Solona pressed on, determined to record the herbal knowledge in her brain. A loud clatter startled her out of concentration some time later. The candles had all burned down much lower than she expected, and everyone else was gone. Everyone, save the lone templar who hurriedly righted the chair he tripped over.

“Sorry,” he stammered nervously. “I’m not quite used to all this armor yet.”

It was the new templar, she realized with a start. “Oh, that’s alright. I must have lost track of time.” Ignoring the butterflies swarming her stomach, she gathered her stack of books and quickly re-shelved them. When she returned to her spot, she was surprised to find him stacking her notes neatly for her. “You don’t have to do that.” “It’s the least I could do after disturbing you, Mistress…?”

“Amell. Solona Amell.” Together, they packed up her study supplies in record time. When they were done, she peered up at him curiously. He hadn’t tried anything untoward, despite there being no one around to see. “May I know your name, ser?”

Up close, she could see the dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose. His warm, brown eyes gazed down at her with an intensity that stole her breath away. And when he blushed, it spread all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"Cullen.” And then, after a moment, “Rutherford.”

“Ser Cullen. Thank you for helping me gather my things.” She felt her own blush blooming across her face. “Would you… Would you mind walking me back to the apprentices’ dormitory?”

He gave her a tiny, bashful bow. “Of course. Though… You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t know my way around yet.”

She couldn’t help but smile up at him. “That’s alright. I can show you.” With her satchel of notes securely in her arms, she led him out into the hall.

Jowan cracked an eye open as she settled into bed in their shared dormitory. “How was your date with the new templar?”

Her only response was to blow a raspberry. He chuckled.

[wickcdlove]

kamon 'love' hunt ( คามอน เลิฟ ฮันต์ ) | 02’ | lesbian | woman | she/her | thai dessert bar employee

becky armstrong, lesbian, woman, she/her. ♡ now entering the apartment building is kamon “love” hunt, a twenty-two year old who is currently a thai dessert bar employee. netizens have said they seem naive but others have said they’re romantic ! gossip aside, we’re sure they’re bound to be a fan favorite !

born + raised in england, her mother and grandmother taught her thai. she lived in thailand for most of her schooling years, so she’s fluent but her pronunciation is a bit off every now and again. korean is her least proficient language – she’s good conversationally but there’s a lot she still doesn’t understand. her accent is weird and no-one can tell where she’s from.

background

kamon’s parents were childhood best friends. her mother had moved to england at a young age, and her family became very close with her fathers family. they went to school together, kamon’s father helped kamon’s mother with english, and defended her from anyone who might be cruel to her because of her differences. kamon’s paternal grandfather helped her maternal grandfather get work, her maternal grandmother taught her maternal grandfather how to cook thai food. as they grew older, their families had pushed them together and out of obligation, they eventually married each other. it was evident there was no real romantic love or attraction between them, but they did love each other, their own families, each others families, so they stuck it out. they’re still together to this day, all because of the familiarity and care they have for one another – but their relationship is more akin to best friends than husband and wife who were ever at all in love or attracted to one another. despite the lack of traditional romance between her parents, they both loved kamon fiercely. she was given the nickname "love" before they had even decided on her name (her mother and her family wanted to name her traditionally), symbolizing that she was their greatest joy and to hopefully manifest that their daughter would find true love - something they never had the chance to experience. raised in a loving, supportive household, love’s parents gave her a lot of freedom growing up, which made her grow into an independent and confident girl. they accepted her wholly when she came out as gay, trusting that whoever she chose to love forever would be deserving of it. growing up, her grandmother and mother taught her thai, and they often visited thailand to stay connected with their extended family. when love was ten, the family moved to thailand for her schooling, where she became proficient in the language, though her accent is still a little bit off. after finishing school, the family moved to korea for her fathers business, where her father also helped her mother open a thai dessert bar. she assists in running it, handling customer service while her father manages the business side. her mother barely speaks korean and relies on her a lot. love joined seoulmates to find romance, just as her parents hoped for her. she’s searching for a deep, meaningful connection, someone who will consume her with love in the way she’s always wanted. she’s also hoping to help her mother’s dessert bar gain some attention, as business has been slowing down. love knows how important the bar is to her mother and wants to do anything she can to help keep it afloat.

personality:

love is selfless, always striving to better herself and the lives of those around her. she’s a natural people-pleaser, eager to help and make others happy. though she advocates for herself and others, she’s not aggressive about it - she’s calm and composed, never pushing too hard. she’s far too forgiving and tends to give people way too many second chances, often to her detriment. a hopeless romantic, love is obsessed with gl romance novels, shows, and yuri manga/manhwa. she wishes she had the skills to create similar love stories but instead is a passionate admirer. she is very optimistic, sometimes to an unhealthy degree. she avoids dealing with negative emotions, preferring to push them aside rather than confront them. this makes her seem carefree, but it’s also a coping mechanism to avoid any deeper pain. she tries to remain positive and upbeat in almost every situation, determined not to let bad feelings weigh her down.

relationships

love has never been in a long-term relationship, though she had deep feelings for a girl while living in thailand. unfortunately, the other girl wasn’t ready to explore those feelings, and things ended before they could begin. it broke love’s heart, but her optimistic outlook kept her going, convincing herself there’s someone out there for her. (there’s plenty of fish in the sea, after all.) since then, she’s had a few short-term relationships - one in thailand and two in korea. none of them lasted more than a few months, and they fizzled out due to a lack of compatibility. love wasn’t too heartbroken by it, but she continues searching for something deeper and more meaningful. she’s extremely affectionate in relationships, big on public displays of affection and physical touch. love loves peppering her partner with kisses and being openly silly and joyful with them. she tends to be clingy, wanting to be around her partner constantly, but she can manage on her own when necessary, begrudgingly. in relationships, she’s a true switch. love's primary goal is to make her partner happy, however that plays out. she enjoys a dynamic where they can switch things up. either way she loves really soft dom/sub dynamics lmfao

wanted connections

romantic;

someone who has feelings for love, but she’s either oblivious or sees them purely as a friend. this could lead to tension, especially if love is focusing her romantic energy on someone else, unknowingly hurting the person who is crushing on her.

love is optimistic and a hopeless romantic, but this person is more jaded or even closed off emotionally. despite their differences, they form a bond, and love’s affectionate nature could begin to break down their emotional walls??

idk

platonic;

regular at the thai dessert bar ? ; a regular customer at the thai dessert bar. they could have a flirty dynamic, where love is her usual affectionate self, or it could be entirely platonic.

love advice !! ; love has always been a hopeless romantic, and while she’s never been in a long-term relationship, she’s filled with knowledge from her endless consumption of gl romance novels, shows, and yuri manga/manhwa. this character seeks out love for relationship advice, or perhaps she offers it up ?? whether her advice helps or backfires idk

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 18: THE LOST GOD SPEAKS

Even knowing the order of events, having lived through them, Nico had been having such a casually good time he'd almost forgotten this part was coming, or he'd been subconsciously deluding himself something else terrible and major happened in between these two major events he hadn't the chance to dwell on it as much as usual.

The second Percy read the chapter title, Nico knew. The casual chats, the admiration of his mysterious powers, they would all vanish. Will and everyone would see how one of the most beloved ancient gods gave him no second thought, that saw him as nothing worthwhile. They would see something was wrong with him too.

"Will, leave."

The sharp words snapped from his mouth like a slap in the face to everyone else.

Will blinked once as that sunk in, then got up without hesitation to hastily do that.

"Nico!" Thalia's voice was a raspy, shocked reprimand, and only drove in his own instant guilt.

"He can't hear this!" Nico could hear the desperation in his voice, bordering on insanity. "None of you should!"

"Nico," Percy sighed. He sounded more disappointed, but resigned to keep reading if the guy didn't want some other part of him exposed to whoever.

"It's his call," Alex said in a challenging voice.

"I know," Thalia was already holding up her hands to let it go. Gods knew there were plenty of things from her past she didn't want on display, his snap reaction had just surprised her. He and Will seemed to have been getting along well.

Percy took an uneasy breath and started...and yet it instantly felt wrong to Nico. He missed that sun-dazed idiot already. He knew he could have talked and laughed with anybody he wanted to, he didn't need Will like a security blanket to manage that, but it sure made it feel easier. Was it so terrible to want something to be easy for once?

"I'll go get him," Nico spoke quietly, expecting to be ignored and talked over as Percy read about Rachel's usefulness in guiding them seamlessly through the maze.

Percy stopped instantly though, looking around at him in surprise, then smiled and closed the book, jumping out of his seat in relief for the brief break and chatting about going off to get food.

Nobody else said a word for or against it, and it only solidified Nico's resolve to having something so wholly in his control for once.

...

Will was in the farthest room from the destroyed center of their entrapment. He was humming to himself and sitting on the bed, snaking on a s'mores and sorting through his deck of mythomagic cards with concentration.

Nico watched, his heart convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him as it tried to twist up too tight in his chest. The only thing you might be able to hear from here is someone yelling, and even as he thought it, Will swept up the ones he seemed to want, stacked them into a neat pile, and jumped from the bed, eyes flickering up as if to go to the roof before they landed on him in surprise.

"Coming to join me?" He asked in delight.

Nico couldn't think how to answer, now Will might just hate him if he explained his stupid impulsive fear and think him an idiot.

"Taking a break?" Will asked, but his smile slipped as he kept watching him. "Nico?"

"Sorry," he finally pulled out of the long well of feelings buried in him.

"For?" Will's smile was nothing but encouraging and curious.

Nico couldn't seem to get the answer out, he flapped his hand around, and Will still seemed to get it. "I told you I would, why are you sorry?" Will shrugged, his voice only surprised.

Because he was selfish. Because he was still convinced if Will kept getting to know him he'd change his mind. Because he was tired of being alone, and every detail of how different his life was compared to the great Percy Jackson was about to be on display and he loathed it.

"I want you to come back," he said the words mechanically slow, like a busted up old automaton would come for him like a family tradition.

"I'm not going to unless you really mean that," Will studied him carefully now, that eerie ability of his to always spot when Nico was lying was clearly being put to the test. "The others didn't make you do this did they?"

"No," he said honestly. "I, you should hear, this is a moment of history-" he tried to cobble together some half-truth at least.

"That clearly bothers you," bother being a nice word as Will kept watching his clammy skin. "I don't know why, but you don't have to tell me."

Nico didn't think he could ever get the words out if he tried.

Will had never needed him to say much though. He was weird like that. The happiest guy Nico had ever met, and yet he seemed to have no problems sitting in silence when it was needed.

So they just stood like that until Nico's pounding heart finally subsided and he could catch his breath and tried to poorly explain. "I am different than them Will, and the gods know it, and this, this is going to make it really obvious."

"I don't expect anyone to be 'normal,'" Will even used air quotes. "Have you met Percy? Alex is probably one of the strangest people anybody will meet. Nobody's telling them to normal up. It doesn't matter why you don't want me to hear Nico, I told you I don't care whatever it is."

"Yeah, I know," Nico grinned, finally starting to believe that. "I'm still just getting used to that."

"Fair enough," Will shrugged, pocketing his deck and waiting patiently to see what Nico wanted to do next. Nico was really, really starting to fall under the delusional belief he could just ask Will to come to Tartarus with him and he was so chill he'd just agree like a nutjob.

For now he just gestured back to the main room, and Will only hesitated a moment more, assessing Nico for something. He must have passed, because Will walked past the staircase for the roof without a second look and flopped back out on the couch as stretched out as much as humanly possible.

Everybody had grabbed something for an early dinner. Nico was surprised to feel a slight grumble of his stomach agreeing with that idea, so he sighed and didn't protest when Will gave him a knowing smirk and walked back out.

There wasn't much talking and laughter during the downtime. It was a combination of Thalia's lingering unease and shaking her head at Percy offering her his french fries and Nico's obvious distaste for whatever else could possibly happen next that caused Percy to eat even faster than usual, somehow, and start reading again without much enthusiasm despite eating dessert before dinner with nobody around to stop him.

We ran until we were exhausted. Rachel steered us away from traps, but we had no destination in mind—only away from that dark mountain and the roar of Kronos.

"So, honestly, you should end up in New York by proximity anyway," Alex grinned. "That's plenty far away from California."

Magnus grinned Alex was probably going to make up for those five minutes of silence by being even more talkative for the next few. Nobody else was going to even notice the difference.

We stopped in a tunnel of wet white rock, like part of a natural cave. I couldn't hear anything behind us, but I didn't feel any safer. I could still remember those unnatural golden eyes staring out of Luke's face, and the feeling that my limbs were slowly turning to stone.

Percy's breaths were still hitching ever so slightly in here, and Thalia's eyes were still suspiciously red-rimmed, but neither of them looked about to fall to pieces any second. Percy had in fact been running from this very presence since he'd been dropped into this world. Thalia had only ever seen this in her head. It was a horrible memory, but it had already been there long before now.

"I can't go any farther," Rachel gasped, hugging her chest.

Annabeth had been crying the entire time we'd been running. Now she collapsed and put her head between her knees. Her sobs echoed in the tunnel.

Percy had just watched. As she'd coughed and snot ran down her nose, her shoulders shook and her hair spilled everywhere, sticking to her face in a fantastically gross mess.

He remembered the vivid terror he had of seeing her like that as well as he did Luke's golden eyes. He'd been powerless to do anything about either.

He wanted to pound Luke's face into the mud for causing all this!

Yet he was already suffering his end fate... and it didn't feel very satisfying.

He'd briefly wished Thalia had been there, maybe she'd know what to do, but sitting next to her now as her hands still shook clasped in front of her, her knee bounced in place with agitation, and her own breath just as ragged, that didn't seem to be the answer anymore either. There probably wasn't an answer for that kind of pain.

Nico and I sat next to each other. He dropped his sword next to mine and took a shaky breath.

"That sucked," he said, which I thought summed things up pretty well.

"Can't say I never said a nice word about you Nico," Percy grinned.

"Hmm, yes, a compliment I've craved all my life, I make great Sparknotes," Nico smirked.

"You saved our lives," I said.

Nico wiped the dust off his face. "Blame the girls for dragging me along.

Will had the fight of his life not to burst out laughing, and he very poorly smothered a snort of amusement for it.

Nico gave him an unimpressed look, and Will managed to chokingly explain, "I mean, yeah, I blame Percy being alive on Annabeth too, but you don't have to say it like that Nico!"

"If I start admitting I went around and saved people's life, I'd ruin my brand," Nico sniffed. "Don't you dare tell a soul about this!"

"I'll take your secret to the grave," Will was still grinning like a fool. Nico was having a lot of trouble looking away when Percy ignored them to keep reading.

That's the only thing they could agree on. We needed to help you or you'd mess things up."

"And it turns out participation was just an option," Jason grumbled, "that screw-up happened long ago."

Thalia still found herself chewing on that like a hang nail, one she really wished she could just yank out and carelessly watch the blood finally clot up. It seemed obvious to everyone but her there had been no fixing this because nobody, not even Annabeth knew him like she did...but then nobody like Kronos had known him for too long for it to matter.

"Nice that they trust me so much," I shined my flashlight across the cavern. Water dripped from the stalactites like a slow-motion rain.

"Nico...you, uh, kind of gave yourself away."

"What do you mean?"

"That wall of black stone?

"Are you telling me I couldn't do that if I tried hard enough?" Will yelped, just because he didn't want Nico saving anyone to be framed as a bad thing. Making a joke out of it felt better. "I bet I could, um, make a musical sound so bad the sound wave would make the earth shoot up and try to kill me."

"Oooh, I like this game," Alex cackled. "I wonder if Thalia could do it too, send a surge of electricity through the earth and yank up a cable along with all the stones with it. Maybe Annabeth could find just the right spot and cause an earthquake if she can build something fast enough-"

"The point is," Percy sighed extra loudly, "I don't think Kronos is going to fall for that."

"It would have been nice if he just blamed it all on Percy," Magnus couldn't help but agree, "maybe if Nico had just been hiding behind a rock when he did that it could have worked."

"And yet, we're moving on," Percy reminded in exasperation.

That was pretty impressive. If Kronos didn't know who you were before, he does now—a child of the Underworld."

Nico frowned. "Big deal."

I let it drop. I figured he was just trying to hide how scared he was, and I couldn't blame him.

"Or he just didn't know the danger he was in," Jason frowned, looking from Nico to the book in concern. "Nobody's told him the prophecy, or much of anything he hasn't had to figure out on his own."

"I would have done it even if Kronos knew," Nico shrugged. "Percy was running for his life, I knew that meant tactical retreat without question or I would have taken a turn at stabbing him. He's lucky I wasn't strong enough yet to wither him with a stare."

'Yet?' Magnus mouthed with the biggest concerned question mark of a face.

"I know Nico," Percy grinned, "ignore Jason, he's a worry wart. I said thank you."

"You did not," Will frowned, "you acknowledged he saved your life."

"Yet?" Magnus squeaked, but it must have been to high pitched for the others to hear, because he was ignored.

"Yes, we all heard, what a miraculous day this is," Thalia snorted. It still came out a little runny, but at least she was mocking them again.

Annabeth lifted her head. Her eyes were red from crying. "What...what was wrong with Luke? What did they do to him?"

Nobody was exactly going to jump up and volunteer the information to her. Percy took a deep breath because he knew he would. He didn't want to deliver this news to her, she probably already hated him, but he had been there. He was the only one who could do this to her.

I told her what I'd seen in the coffin, the way the last piece of Kronos's spirit had entered Luke's body when Ethan Nakamura pledged his service.

"No," Annabeth said. "That can't be true. He couldn't—"

"He gave himself over to Kronos," I said. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. But Luke is gone."

"No!" she insisted. "You saw when Rachel hit him."

I nodded, looking at Rachel with respect. "You hit the Lord of the Titans in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush."

"If the gods don't offer her immortality for that, you know it's an unjust system," Alex snickered one last time. He was surprised he hadn't died holding in that laugh while Thalia fought off a sob.

Rachel looked embarrassed. "It was the only thing I had."

"I desperately hope somebody makes her a hairbrush sword," Magnus didn't want to let this go either. "Gods, a statue in her honor, Kronos being afraid of hairbrushes the rest of his reign, anything to commemorate this moment."

There was a good healthy laugh at this long after the fact. Rachel deserved to be there to hear it, but that little moment of levity did help a lot as Thalia sat a little more comfortably in her seat and Percy kept reading without quite so much fear in every other word.

"But you saw," Annabeth insisted. "When it hit him, just for a second, he was dazed. He came back to his senses."

Which was a very interesting moment Jason wished he could dissect. The problem was he didn't know a thing about what was going on or exactly what had been shown. Luke had said ouch, his eyes had flashed back to normal, but other than that he'd been perfectly 'normal.' Trying to kill everybody, using horrible magic to fling Percy around like he once had to the furniture on the Andromeda. All Kronos seemed to have done was settle into a body he'd claimed long ago.

"So maybe Kronos wasn't completely settled in the body, or whatever," I said. "It doesn't mean Luke was in control."

"You want him to be evil, is that it?" Annabeth yelled. "You didn't know him before, Percy. I did!"

"What is it with you?" I snapped. "Why do you keep defending him?"

"Whoa, you two," Rachel said. "Knock it off!"

"Truly a brave girl Chiron himself should take notes from," Will chuckled. Everybody at Camp usually just retreated a safe distance when they started going at it.

"I would have let them keep going," Magnus frowned, "these two have been fighting about this since day one, I'd like to settle this once and for all."

Percy would very much like the same, but considering there had still been tears glistening at the corner of Annabeth's eyes and her voice hadn't been hoarse from shouting at him, he'd felt bad for snapping at her this particular time and was rather grateful Rachel had cut them off.

Annabeth turned on her. "Stay out of it, mortal girl! If it wasn't for you..."

Whatever she was going to say, her voice broke. She put her head down and sobbed miserably.

Nobody could even begin to guess what biting remark Annabeth had been about to finish that with. Percy's throat lodged tight for several moments, he couldn't speak either as if her pain had transferred to him. He'd known exactly how to help Thalia, as she tried to quietly clear her throat again and was breathing easier, but he didn't know what to do to help one of the most important people in his life. He hated seeing Annabeth so mean to Rachel, he hated seeing her in so much pain...

I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know how. I still felt stunned, like Kronos's time-slow effect had affected my brain. I just couldn't comprehend what I'd seen. Kronos was alive. He was armed. And the end of the world was probably close at hand.

"We have to keep moving," Nico said.

"Thanks Nico," Percy managed, the most miserable feeling in his gut gave him the sensation like he was vomiting up his own shit. He hated the useless words out of his mouth back then for not being able to be there for her, for being weak to the enemy he was supposed to be born to destroy. He would have just sat there and done nothing.

He didn't know how to hold her, how to tell her he loved her. He barely knew how to explain the words and feelings to himself, it all felt foggy, like trying to pull something through a mirror. He knew he felt that way, now and back then, but it just wasn't clicking right in his brain along with all the other disjointed feelings and memories he didn't have for her yet.

Annabeth was supposed to be leading this quest, but ever since he'd come back from Calypso's island, she'd been different, so much less confident in herself at every step.

"Yeah, any time," he nodded his head. He felt like he spent half his time in here trying to remind them all to keep moving along, it was a skill he'd possibly perfected a little too well, and he tried not to dwell on the idea constant movement kept the bad feelings away.

"He'll send monsters after us."

Nobody was in any shape to run, but Nico was right. I hauled myself up and helped Rachel to her feet.

"You did good back there," I told her.

She managed a weak smile. "Yeah, well. I didn't want you to die." She blushed. "I mean...just because, you know. You owe me too many favors. How am I going to collect if you die?"

"Truly intelligent, this girl is," Alex chuckled. "That's some mafia mentality if I've ever heard it."

"If she grows up to be a debt collector I'll never speak to her again," Magnus rolled his eyes.

I knelt next to Annabeth. "Hey, I'm sorry. We need to move."

Thalia shook her head miserably for her sister. She was probably at her lowest point ever, felt so alone and inconsolable beyond words or even a sob could make anyone understand...and here was Percy, complimenting someone else all while telling Annabeth to get her butt moving.

She knew Percy didn't mean it like that, but Thalia still found herself regretting joining the Hunters once again. She wished she could have gone on this quest to be there for Annabeth so many times, she still felt like she'd abandoned her little sister even if she had just been a phone call away every time. It didn't seem to have made any major difference.

"I know," she said. "I'm...I'm all right."

She was clearly not all right. But she got to her feet, and we started straggling back through the Labyrinth again.

"Back to New York," I said. "Rachel, can you—"

I froze. A few feet in front of us, my flashlight beam fixed on a trampled clump of red fabric lying on the ground. It was a Rasta cap: the one Grover always wore.

"Grover." Percy was physically incapable of having a one-track mind, but his focus was on one thing. His dream of Grover and Tyson running for their lives, his best friend holding onto life by a breath, if Grover had left that there as some goofy trail to follow and where he even got that from. Had his daddy goat knitted that for him?

Percy hadn't forgotten about Luke, Annabeth, or his camp for that matter, but his focus right now was absolutely on Grover.

* * *

My hands shook as I picked up the cap. It looked like it had been stepped on by a huge muddy boot.

With this one little detail, Percy's thoughts ping-ponged around in his head with particularly good players. Mercenaries could have wound up down here and continued chasing him across the country, maybe they'd found another half-blood down here they'd tried to assist, or maybe Grover had found a shoe and was eating it for a snack before he was startled and had to leave without it.

After all that I'd gone through today, I couldn't stand the thought that something might've happened to Grover, too.

Then I noticed something else. The cave floor was mushy and wet from the water dripping off the stalactites. There were large footprints like Tyson's, and smaller ones—goat hooves—leading off to the left.

"We have to follow them," I said. "They went that way. It must have been recently."

"What about Camp Half-Blood?" Nico said. "There's no time."

There was a sense of harshness in Percy's voice. He wouldn't have acted on it, Nico knew that, but he could feel the frustrated question that wasn't said. Why did he even care? Nico was just stuck there with them, he shouldn't have any opinion about where they went.

The answer was simple, Nico had no idea who Percy as a person was back then. He'd thought Percy would want to get back to camp for the big battle and be the champion and Nico was trying to be on his side.

"We have to find them," Annabeth insisted. "They're our friends."

She picked up doubled? Grover's smashed snatched cap and forged ahead.

She snatched Grover's cap into her hand and forged ahead.

Percy's hand fell away from the book, rubbing his thumb against his fingers for a moment like losing the sensation of that material in his hand had burned. He wondered if Grover liked eating knitwear and what his favorite flavor was or if the coloring mattered. He'd never bothered to ask, let alone why he liked this rasta cap so much.

He knew he'd followed Annabeth without question. He often forgot how much she cared about him as much as him. That Grover had been her satyr first, had guided her through the worst parts of her life right along with Luke, was now the only person left of her first family who had never let her down and she wasn't going to let him forget it. As annoying, frustrating, and confusing as she was about Luke, he knew all of that about her without question.

I followed bracing myself for the worst. The tunnel was treacherous. It sloped at weird angles and was slimy with moisture. Half the time we were slipping and sliding rather than walking.

"Will finally got his slide down there, and it's a mud bath," Jason sighed.

"Which I am still all for installing as part of an obstacle course at camp, it would be fun," Will tried to suppress his grin just a touch. He knew Grover and Tyson were okay, but it would still be a little morbid if he laughed to much right now.

Finally we got to the bottom of a slope and found ourselves in a large cave with huge stalagmite columns. Through the center of the room ran an underground river, and Tyson was sitting by the banks, cradling Grover in his lap. Grover's eyes were closed. He wasn't moving.

Kronos/ Luke might as well have still been right on their tail. Everything had slowed down around Percy for that one second where time itself was the enemy. If he just stayed in that moment forever, like an image of Death of Adonis could have been superimposed over what he was seeing.*

"Tyson!" I yelled.

"Percy! Come quick!"

We ran over to him. Grover wasn't dead, thank the gods, but his whole body trembled like he was freezing to death.

"What happened?" I asked.

"So many things," Tyson murmured. "Large snake. Large dogs. Men with swords. But then...we got close to here. Grover was excited.

"Tyson officially learned his name!" Alex cheered. "At what stage though? Before or after the large dogs? Did he just forget and was to embarrassed to ask and only figured it out when Grover tried to introduce himself to something down there?"

"Hallelujah, we can all go home happy," Percy tried to say with renewed confidence.

He ran. Then we reached this room, and he fell. Like this."

"Did he say anything?" I asked.

"He said, 'We're close.' Then hit his head on rocks."

"We'd be done with these dang books if Tyson would just sum them up for us," Percy sighed.

"I bet it still would have hurt plenty if he hit his horns, right?" Magnus frowned.

"It's the same stuff our fingernails are made of, much thicker, but still with nerve endings and bones under there," Will agreed anxiously, his mind flitting to all the possible problems that could be had by Tyson moving him alone would cause if Grover had some sort of injury from that fall. "So yes, it would still hurt plenty."

"Wait, then how do people put shoes on horses if they can feel it," Percy yelped in sudden concern.

"Hooves don't," Will corrected, "they're essentially a giant toenail with bones in them, but no blood running through. They can feel it, but it's painless."

"Do satyrs get shooed?" Thalia asked in surprise. She still felt raw and too exposed, but her light-headedness was clearing the farther away they got from talking about that black marble fortress.

"And we are so off-topic," Nico sighed, he really just wanted to get this over with.

Percy agreed and kept reading, though he was now imagining Grover getting gold horseshoes and a grill if he went through his rebellious teenager phase.

I knelt next to him. The only other time I'd seen Grover pass out was New Mexico, when he'd felt the presence of Pan.

I shined my flashlight around the cavern. The rocks glittered. At the far end was the entrance to another cave, flanked by gigantic columns of crystal that looked like diamonds. And beyond that entrance...

"Grover," I said. "Wake up."

"Uhhhhhhhh."

Annabeth knelt next to him and splashed icy cold river water in his face.

"Is that nicer than smacking someone? I can't decide?" Alex grinned.

"You'd do both just for insurance," Jason rolled his eyes.

"And a secret third thing depending on the person," Alex agreed with a wickeder grin.

"Splurg!" His eyelids fluttered. "Percy? Annabeth? Where..."

"It's okay," I said. "You passed out. The presence was too much for you."

"I—I remember. Pan."

"Yeah," I said. "Something powerful is just beyond that doorway."

"What is it with you?" Magnus looked one deity away from strangling Percy. "Why do you continue to just stumble upon the most powerful presences in doorways repeatedly!?" He was already imagining a killer goat hell-bent on eating the planet Percy was going to awaken next.

"I'm really indecisive like that," Percy shrugged, "I always try to leave my problems at the door, but they just keep playing sonatas with my doorbell."

* * *

I made quick introductions, since Tyson and Grover had never met Rachel.

Tyson told Rachel she was pretty, which made Annabeth's nostrils flare like she was going to blow fire.

"Microscopic flamethrower," Alex nodded seriously. "The invention of the century."

"Oh how the turns table-" Percy was to busy snickering like he'd been afraid for his life to do back then. He still remembered Annabeth smacking Tyson's hand away and being disgusted with his little brother in exchange for that look.

"Anyway," I said.

"I'm going to make you a card," Thalia still sounded a little nasally, but Percy was too relieved she was back to mocking him again to risk mentioning it. "A pocket-sized one, but very elaborate cursive in calligraphy. You can just flash that around whenever you want to get out of awkward conversations."

"The best gift you'll have ever given me," Percy nodded his thanks.

"Might want to make multiples," Magnus mock whispered.

"Come on, Grover. Lean on me."

Annabeth and I helped him up, and together we waded across the underground river. The current was strong. The water came up to our waists.

I willed myself to stay dry, which is a handy little ability, but that didn't help the others, and I could still feel the cold, like wading through a snowdrift.

Annabeth had been shaking like a leaf and holding onto Grover for support by the time they reached the other side, but Grover had actually looked more awake and revitalized. His distaste of water might as well have been washed away, his shaggy goat legs almost seemed to repel the water as well as he had.

"I think we're in Carlsbad Caverns," Annabeth said, her teeth chattering. "Maybe an unexplored section."

"How do you know?"

"Why do you still question how she knows anything," Jason snorted.

"She was about to bite her tongue off and still being smarter than me," Percy sighed, "I couldn't stop myself from seeing her keep trying."

"Carlsbad is in New Mexico," she said. "That would explain last winter."

I nodded. Grover's swooning episode had happened when we passed through New Mexico. That's where he'd felt closest to the power of Pan.

Alex couldn't help but splutter on a laugh. "So Magnus was right? All you guys had to do was get a shovel!"

"It was bound to happen eventually," Magnus grinned in surprise.

Jason bit back a smile he'd said the same thing and let them have their moment. Instead, he looked a little constipated and started muttering about writing down everything everybody said, and Percy kept reading loudly in horror over that idea.

We got out of the water and kept walking. As the crystal pillars loomed larger, I started to feel the power emanating from the next room. I'd been in the presence of gods before, but this was different. My skin tingled with living energy. My weariness fell away, as if I'd just gotten a good night's sleep.

"Well now we have to drag Pan out of there, even kicking and screaming to do his damn job," Alex snorted in delight. "If even half of humanity got the sensation of a full night's sleep again we'd have world peace."

"Alex, we will not be bottling up people's essences against their will," Thalia sighed in exhaustion.

"You guys are so missing out, we could sell it for a very reasonable price," Alex was already sighing in defeat though.

I could feel myself growing stronger, like one of those plants in a time-lapse video. And the scent coming from the cave was nothing like the dank wet underground. It smelled of trees and flowers and a warm summer day.

Percy swallowed the sweet memory taste of smoked food. He closed his eyes and could hear his mom laughing as they walked home from the candy store. The feeling was as vivid as if he'd popped a piece of ambrosia into his mouth.

So why was he getting a cold feeling deep in his core, as if this ended no better than the feeling of a wild bore chasing them down a mountain?

Grover whimpered with excitement. I was too stunned to talk. Even Nico seemed speechless.

Nico looked around, vaguely offended. "Why do you always say that like I would be some major exception to how you feel?" He tended to think so too, he'd just like to hear Percy say it so he could correct it better.

He didn't realize how bluntly he'd addressed Percy until he looked up from the book, and then Nico fought off a scowl as his stomach did a backflip for talking to Percy like that.

Swallowing and holding his ground for once though, Nico didn't look away this time. He was just so tired of feeling ostracized, and Percy nor anyone had really treated him like a freak in here...so that must mean he was missing something?

Percy, at first, of course, tried to play it off like a joke. "For all I know you could be allergic to this place, it's your opposite."

Nico looked at him, unimpressed, and Will's little scoff made Percy sigh and shrug. "Sorry, I still keep expecting you to be that kid that won't shut up, I see you out of the corner of my eye and think you're going to ask me if I can split that cavern with my third eye or something."

"Well I'm not," Nico reminded with almost saint-like patience for him. This was the first god he'd ever interacted with apart from Dionysus's drunken aloofness and a very brief moment with Artemis's cold aloofness. He'd been happy and excited, but kept himself in check not to make a fool of himself.

It had been a fool's errand from the start, the only thing Pan would say to him was just confirmation he was a death specter. That's all anybody seemed to associate him with.

If Percy's past tense tone was anything to go by, at least Percy's continued constricting moments of de-aging him to five finally seemed to be wearing off?

We stepped into the cave, and Rachel said, "Oh, wow."

The walls glittered with crystals—red, green, and blue. In the strange light, beautiful plants grew—giant orchids, star-shaped flowers, vines bursting with orange and purple berries that crept among the crystals. The cave floor was covered with green moss. Overhead, the ceiling was higher than a cathedral, sparkling like a galaxy of stars. In the center of the cave stood a Roman-style bed, gilded wood shaped like a curly U, with velvet cushions.

Animals lounged around it—but they were animals that shouldn't have been alive. There was a dodo bird, something that looked like a cross between a wolf and a tiger, a huge rodent like the mother of all guinea pigs, and roaming behind the bed, picking berries with its trunk, was a wooly mammoth.

Percy's mind flashed back to sitting in those dreary woods, that marshy clearing on his first quest, with pollution blotting out the stars in the middle of the night, litter in all directions and Grover telling him how no searcher had come back in two thousand years looking for a place like this.

It was such a palace of beauty, the whole world could have looked like this if it weren't for how the planet was treated.

Enough to hope that maybe, this one time, things would work out okay. That they found Pan chilling in here, lost and happy to see them. Willing to come back and give the earth this chance.

On the bed lay an old satyr. He watched us as we approached, his eyes as blue as the sky. His curly hair was white and so was his pointed beard. Even the goat fur on his legs was frosted with gray. His horns were enormous— glossy brown and curved. There was no way he could've hidden those under a hat the way Grover did. Around his neck hung a set of reed pipes.

The idea of satyrs had bothered Jason from the very beginning. Something of these fawns didn't feel natural to a life he couldn't remember.

This Satyr wasn't even in the room, and felt the most familiar of any gods Jason had to hear about. The power and majesty that didn't feel like a show or forced, it was just a part of him. The indifference to their presence and the way it felt like an honor to be in front of this deity, rather than a summons. He swallowed and resisted the urge to get on his knees just hearing of this.

Grover fell to his knees in front of the bed. "Lord Pan!"

Percy slipped and still called him Lord Pam. Then he looked around with a smile, and his face fell. They suspected it had been on purpose. Like he forgot for a moment Grover wasn't in here to relive this with him.

The god smiled kindly, but there was sadness in his eyes. "Grover, my dear, brave satyr. I have waited a very long time for you."

"I...got lost," Grover apologized.

"Truest words ever spoken," Percy snorted in delight. He really should have a medal or something for holding in back then all the things that had crossed his mind.

"He's rescued dozens of kids and nearly been eaten by a cyclops, while attacked by this guy's pet boar. I think roadblocked is a more apt summary," Magnus frowned.

"Are we just skipping the part Grover told the Lost God he got lost," Thalia snickered. It was the first time she'd really laughed the whole chapter, so nobody was going to roll their eyes too hard over that obvious joke.

Pan laughed.

"Does he know he's a lost god?" Jason asked, his voice still a bit in awe. "He doesn't exactly sound trapped, just chilling."

Yet he didn't seem very upset by this. He'd always been one of the best at just accepting the gods were nuts like that, Percy observed.

"I wonder if he heard all the satyr's prayers over the years, it might not just be godly intuition this time," Will agreed.

It was a wonderful sound, like the first breeze of springtime, filling the whole cavern with hope. The tiger-wolf sighed and rested his head on the god's knee. The dodo bird pecked affectionately at the god's hooves, making a strange sound in the back of its bill. I could swear it was humming "It's a Small World."

Alex snorted in delight and instantly declared, "well, that's going to be my next pet project."

"I hope you teach the bird many songs Alex, maybe even a dance number or two," Nico grinned.

"My dodo bird will outshine whatever you put them against," Alex assured.

"We are not discussing how you will get a dodo bird," Thalia said it more like a statement than a question, though Magnus felt it deserved the latter.

Still, Pan looked tired. His whole form shimmered as if he were made of Mist.

His spirit was gone a very long time ago, Nico had instinctively known. Maybe now, older and more aware of his powers, he could have pinpointed the exact date and time. This was more like the ghosts milling around inside DOA studios. Trapped between the two worlds until he finally had an outlet for his release, Grover.

I noticed my other friends were kneeling. They had awed looks on their faces. I got to my knees.

"Surprised somebody didn't have to drop-kick you to get there," Jason muttered.

"The look on Annabeth's face said she was considering it," Percy nodded.

"I'd like to see that," Will chuckled. He didn't get to see Annabeth awed very often at all, and mingling that with the usual way she looked at Percy was probably as close as he'd ever get.

"You have a humming dodo bird," I said stupidly.

"It's not stupid Percy," Alex chastised, though he wasn't exactly reassured Alex of all people was trying to reassure him.

"Could dodo's hum?" Magnus asked in surprise, "or is this a special one?"

"How should we know? I bet I could still ask my dad about the ice age too," Thalia rolled her eyes hard while giving Percy a significant look that clearly said she'd still thought it was a stupid comment, so that was at least still on track.

The god's eyes twinkled. "Yes, that's Dede. My little actress."

Dede the dodo looked offended. She pecked at Pan's knee and hummed something that sounded like a funeral dirge.

Alex threw back his head and laughed from delight right from his belly, a sound that really should have caused small children to flee in terror, but oddly had an addicting quality and they all joined in anyway.

"This is the most beautiful place!" Annabeth said. "It's better than any building ever designed."

"I am glad you like it, dear," Pan said. "It is one of the last wild places. My realm above is gone, I'm afraid. Only pockets remain. Tiny pieces of life. This one shall stay undisturbed...for a little longer."

Tourist trap, the words immediately buzzed to mind. Nobody had the heart to protest this might not be so. Even Thalia couldn't post a Hunter there for the rest of eternity to make sure such a place was reserved, Artemis would simply remind them that change was inevitable, even for the gods. Just their mere presence in the place had tainted the last spot of wild with a human's footprint.

"My lord," Grover said, "please, you must come back with me! The Elders will never believe it! They'll be overjoyed! You can save the wild!"

Pan placed his hand on Grover's head and ruffled his curly hair. "You are so young, Grover. So good and true. I think I chose well."

"Chose?" Grover said. "I—I don't understand."

Percy's voice wobbled with just as much confusion. He didn't think it had much to do with the empathy link. He'd felt it too. Here was finally a god that just seemed at peace, which automatically made him seem like the coolest god willing to help out Camp he'd ever met. Why was he talking like this?

Pan's image flickered, momentarily turning to smoke. The giant guinea pig scuttled under the bed with a terrified squeal. The wooly mammoth grunted nervously. Dede stuck her head under her wing. Then Pan re-formed.

"I have slept many eons," the god said forlornly. "My dreams have been dark. I wake fitfully, and each time my waking is shorter. Now we are near the end."

"What?" Grover cried. "But no! You're right here!"

"My dear satyr," Pan said. "I tried to tell the world, two thousand years ago. I announced it to Lysas, a satyr very much like you. He lived in Ephesos, and he tried to spread the word."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "The old story. A sailor passing by the coast of Ephesos heard a voice crying from the shore, 'Tell them the great god Pan is dead.'"

"But that wasn't true!" Grover said.

"Your kind never believed it," Pan said. "You sweet, stubborn satyrs refused to accept my passing. And I love you for that, but you only delayed the inevitable. You only prolonged my long, painful passing, my dark twilight sleep. It must end."

"Wow," Magnus murmured with a surprising burn in his eyes. He'd never met Grover, but he'd always been on his side about preserving nature as much as possible. Satyr's might not think humans could possess that want as much as them, but his mom had, and so did he. Nature was beautiful in itself and didn't need humans all over it admiring what they were losing. Sometimes they should just stay away, it was the best gift they could give.

"No!" Grover's voice trembled.

"Dear Grover," Pan said. "You must accept the truth. Your companion, Nico, he understands."

Nico's stomach still quivered at this with delight a god was turning to him, speaking to him. There was no hate or fear of the Son of Hades in place.

His hands still shook this was what he'd been asked of. Not of anything else on the planet he might want to discuss, just death, what he was best at.

His eyes darted to Will. He wished he could distract from this conversation with some stupid thing to come to mind, but he suddenly couldn't think of a single thing other than this fact. That everybody would always just associate him with one thing.

Will felt the familiar feeling of those eyes boring into his and turned to smile at Nico, saying out of the blue, "hey, I made up a pirate joke, want to hear?"

"Um, Will, is now the time-"

Will ignored Jason. "Why did the pirate struggle to learn the alphabet?"

"Something to do with R..." Nico trailed off with a smile already on his face.

"He kept getting lost at C!" Will cried.

Nico laughed in surprise, hard, the kind they'd only seen before when he imagined Percy as a guinea pig.

"Ooo, my turn!" Alex raised his hand in excitement.

"Guys," Thalia sighed, trying to reign them in.

Alex ignored her. "Why was the pirate not allowed to play cards," he didn't let anyone think about the punchline before he finished with a shout, "because he kept standing on the deck!"

Percy jumped in without prompting, "What do you call a flower that runs on electricity?" He gave Thalia a shit eating grin like he just knew she was going to love this. "A power plant."

"I'm going to kill you," she promised with a sigh.

"Percy, incapable of keeping a theme for five seconds," Magnus sighed...and yet he couldn't help but chime in with his mother's favorite joke. "How do you grow the best flowers? Through trowel and error."

"We started this conversation talking about a nature god, at least I tried getting us back on subject," Percy shrugged.

"You did no such thing," Jason frowned. Then he added, out of the blue, "What is a spell that you can learn with a frying pan? Cast Iron."

"See, that's how you stay on topic," Thalia admitted. Percy looked at her tragically and demanded she liked Jason's joke better than his.

There were tears running down Nico's face by now, but as Thalia said with a proud smirk, "You'd fail any drug test, weed brain," did Nico realize he'd have to be the one to put a stop to this with an overwhelming sense of warmth. They were doing this for him. Because he'd been blatantly uncomfortable at this chapter and Will at minimum recognized part of why and nobody else was going to stop this, they didn't have the attention span to get back on track when Percy wasn't about to die.

Nico had to take several shuddering breaths and clear his throat a few times to make himself heard, "would you guys please get on with it, this is kind of disrespectful." Even as he said it as a pitiful excuse, he suspected Pan would be bursting with pleasure his essence had invoked this in any way. Children laughing was the sound of summer.

"You have to say a joke first Nico, everybody else did, thems the rules," Percy held the book hostage to his chest in protest.

Jason reached around Thalia to try and smack him. "No he doesn't! What are you, four? Next you're going to declare your superhero can't die."

Nico sized Percy up, and gave a hesitant smile. The first joke that came to mind was lame and circled right back to his first thought and only felt like it would prove his worst fear...and yet it was a part of him he'd never want to be without. "I put the fun in funeral. Ya happy?"

"Ecstatic!" Percy decreed.

Nico nodded slowly. "He's dying. He should have died long ago. This...this is more like a memory."

"But gods can't die," Grover said.

Oh yes they could. It was a sobering thought, but the smiles lingered all the same. Time marches on for everyone, even the gods. It was a humbling thought, but one that gave them a flicker of comfort. The domain Kronos himself controlled could not be stopped forever... surely they would find his weakness in the end.

"They can fade," Pan said, "when everything they stood for is gone. When they cease to have power, and their sacred places disappear. The wild, my dear Grover, is so small now, so shattered, that no god can save it. My realm is gone. That is why I need you to carry a message. You must go back to the council. You must tell the satyrs, and the dryads, and the other spirits of nature, that the great god Pan is dead. Tell them of my passing. Because they must stop waiting for me to save them. I cannot. The only salvation you must make yourself. Each of you must—"

He stopped and frowned at the dodo bird, who had started humming again.

"Dede, what are you doing?" Pan demanded. "Are you singing Kumbaya again?"

Dede looked up innocently and blinked her yellow eyes.

Pan sighed. "Everybody's a cynic.

Will got a good laugh out of that, and when he saw a few blank faces he was happy to explain this joke, "Kumbaya was originally a song that appealed for God to come and help those in need."

"Christian religion really touches everywhere," Alex said in a disparaging sigh. "It's just a book club that got out of hand, now they're even down here converting extinct birds?"

"A tad insensitive Alex?" Will sighed. "They can coexist." He'd grown up hearing his mother's favorite songs, mainly country, many of which sang of God he still enjoyed singing to this day. His feelings on religion could get very tangled up very fast if he sat around thinking of it all to long.

Alex had grown up knowing who his mother was and having a great dislike of most religions because of it, but he didn't press the point. It was a debate for another time.

But as I was saying, my dear Grover, each of you must take up my calling."

"But...no!" Grover whimpered.

"Be strong," Pan said. "You have found me. And now you must release me. You must carry on my spirit. It can no longer be carried by a god. It must be taken up by all of you."

Nico braced himself, his breath caught in his throat. He'd never timed how long he could do that, but he was about to find out. That was the last thing Pan had said to all of them. Then he'd turned eyes on Percy, Annabeth, Tyson, and even the mortal girl Rachel before fading...because Nico had done his purpose there already. It had been such a horrible feeling for so long to think it was all he'd ever be good for he still wasn't sure how to let it go.

But it was a part of him, and Will was watching with the same riveted attention to hear this as he did everything. If Will found it odd this was all a god thought he was good for, he wasn't showing it.

Pan looked straight at me with his clear blue eyes, and I realized he wasn't just talking about satyrs. He meant half-bloods, too, and humans.

Everyone.

Percy grinned nervously. He'd probably caused more dead plants than the average fourteen-year-old due to his many sporadic fires and inability to water a plant without drowning it. Grover had never broken his knee kicking him for this fact, but he didn't have a lot of faith in himself being much help with this.

Yet he remembered the hippocampi and how he found Bessie. Nature wasn't just plants and vegetarianism. He cared deeply for the oceans and all that inhabited his father's domain.

He would do his best to help with this, and if his lazy ass made a horrible shot that missed the rim of a trashcan and still made sure to put it where it belonged could manage it so could anybody.

"Percy Jackson," the god said. "I know what you have seen today. I know your doubts. But I give you this news: when the time comes, you will not be ruled by fear."

Percy yelped like something inside of him was yanked out and held up on display. They all knew of this fear, his rodent persona making a reappearance. For Pan to just tell him, 'nope, you're good, not going to happen again,' was somehow a simultaneous relief and ten times the pressure. Now if it happened again he'd let down a god's last words?!

Thalia squeezed his shoulder. "Did you want me to finish?" She knew what was coming next anyway, heading back to camp and a fight on the horizon. If Percy was having some horrible preemptive feelings about that in relation to this, she didn't want him getting hit with feelings of guilt any earlier than he had to.

"No," Percy said, quietly but stubbornly. For every other memory he got back, he kept wishing Annabeth were here. That she'd somehow be able to articulate his thoughts because he was to idiotic to string them together right now.

He turned to Annabeth. "Daughter of Athena, your time is coming. You will play a great role, though it may not be the role you imagined."

Magnus didn't suppose that had anything to do with hiding under a bed and being somewhere safe away from all of this. The problem was, he wanted the best for his cousin, and that was for her to determine. He hoped whatever role she did play she'd be happy with. Annabeth might just start another war to prove otherwise if she wasn't.

Then he looked at Tyson. "Master Cyclops, do not despair. Heroes rarely live up to our expectations. But you, Tyson—your name shall live among the Cyclopes for generations.

"So what I just heard was, we should be raising Tyson as a hero who can't disappoint us," Alex offered.

"I'll get the shields ready," Percy and Jason said together before high-fiving across Thalia's face.

And Miss Rachel Dare..."

Rachel flinched when he said her name. She backed up like she was guilty of something,

"She doesn't blame herself for that Hoover Dam mess does she?" Percy said stupidly. "I didn't even blow up that nature monument."

"Could be anything in her past," Will said swiftly. Percy looked vexed about this from his five seconds of trying to remember the rest of her past that he probably knew better than any of them after their summer together. They'd been doing good for a while now not nearly dying, he was hoping that might continue.

Percy reluctantly let the feeling go and read with a feverish curiosity instead he rarely showed.

but Pan only smiled. He raised his hand in a blessing.

"I know you believe you cannot make amends," he said. "But you are just as important as your father."

"I—" Rachel faltered. A tear traced her cheek.

"I know you don't believe this now," Pan said. "But look for opportunities. They will come."

Finally he turned back toward Grover.

Percy groaned like his spleen was rupturing at that lack of explanation. Why couldn't gods ever spout somebody's life story to make his life easier? "Even this god has to be a vague acorn head!"

"What did acorns do to you?" Thalia frowned.

"I still haven't forgiven the one that decided I was deformed," Percy shrugged.

"My dear satyr," Pan said kindly, "will you carry my message?"

"I—I can't."

"You can," Pan said. "You are the strongest and the bravest. Your heart is true. You have believed in me more than anyone ever has, which is why you must bring the message, and why you must be the first to release me."

"I don't want to."

"I know," the god said. "But my name, Pan...originally it meant rustic. Did you know that? But over the years it has come to mean all. The spirit of the wild must pass to all of you now. You must tell each one you meet: if you would find Pan, take up Pan's spirit. Remake the wild, a little at a time, each in your own corner of the world. You cannot wait for anyone else, even a god, to do that for you."

Magnus really hated how insignificant that made him feel. He'd been blaming the gods a lot for how the world continued to turn because they'd let such horrible things go on without a care, because he sure couldn't do anything about it. Not unless he wanted to steal seeds or throw garbage at people and act like the crazy stereotype homeless person everybody already assumed he was by taking one look at him.

Grover wiped his eyes. Then slowly he stood. "I've spent my whole life looking for you. Now...I release you."

Pan smiled. "Thank you, dear satyr. My final blessing."

He closed his eyes, and the god dissolved. White mist divided into wisps of energy, but this kind of energy wasn't scary like the blue power I'd seen from Kronos. It filled the room. A curl of smoke went straight into my mouth, and Grover's and the others. But I think a little more of it went into Grover. The crystals dimmed. The animals gave us a sad look. Dede the dodo sighed. Then they all turned gray and crumbled to dust. The vines withered. And we were alone in a dark cave, with an empty bed.

I switched on my flashlight.

Grover took a deep breath.

"Are...are you okay?" I asked him.

He looked older and sadder. He took his cap from Annabeth, brushed off the mud, and stuck it firmly on his curly head.

"We should go now," he said, "and tell them. The great god Pan is dead."

Percy sounded absolutely exhausted as he came to a finish. He was kicking one foot around and clearly rummaging around in his brain more than anything by the end, probably trying to figure out how his empathy link worked two ways again as he attempted to hand Thalia the book by missing her hand completely and tossing it over her head instead.

"Let's take a break for the night," Thalia's voice croaked just as much for herself as him. "It's been, more than enough for one day."

Will looked at that thing on the floor and instantly agreed. All he could imagine left was the fight to come, and he sure wasn't looking forward to the fresh memories of blood, screams, and the funerals to fall asleep to.

Nobody was exactly telling the others they had to go to bed too, so there was no real protest.

In fact, it was a rather strange concept all of a sudden, to just have leisure time even for a few hours while the Greek kids all clearly passed out for sleep.

Jason went to his own room without much clue what to do, and decided to test a theory. He tapped the fridge and asked it for his favorite book. He opened it, and to his shock he didn't recognize it. Sitting on the shelf was a dog-eared copy of a book with such a faded cover he couldn't even read the peeling letters, only a few vowels were still visible and it was obviously being held together with glue and a prayer.

He yanked it out and was at once lost in the world outside his own. It felt familiar though...like he'd heard this story before, and yet every new character and plot twist grabbed him in a new level of shock like he was hearing it for the first time. When exactly his eyes gave out and he fell asleep with it open on his chest he couldn't say as his imagination blurred into dreams spoiling the end of the book into a vague memory of sitting in a warm pavilion, a blueberry muffin in hand being left forgotten as he couldn't put down the ending.

Alex and Magnus signed good night to each other, and yet departed a tad awkwardly for some reason neither of them were willing to admit to right now. Alex was more than happy to get back to his project and asked the fridge to turn into a kiln for the night.

Magnus dragged his pillow and blanket up to the balcony to sleep up there. He'd been feeling restless on that plush mattress, and it wasn't until he sunk onto the cool hard floor up there did he figure out why. There was no sky above, but the murky deep of the ocean often glittered with unknown sea life and shimmered with white specks floating all around if he concentrated enough. It was like trying to nap on another planet, but so had sleeping on a roof his first time. He found himself dozing off at once.

Nico found himself pacing in his room with no clue why. His stomach kind of hurt again, though he'd eaten when he was hungry for once.

It wasn't until he put his hand in his pocket and didn't feel his figurine, causing his heart to massively skip a beat before he remembered where he'd left it.

Duh Nico! You were supposed to be playing Mythomagic with him before you chickened out!

Yet he hadn't been this stressed to march out of his room since his dad had tried to ground him. He kept shaking his head and his hand to just grab the doorknob and go, either Will would be asleep or doing something else and Nico could go away...or maybe even join him to see what he was doing? There probably wouldn't be anything wrong with that...

He steeled his nerves, told himself enough was enough, and forcing his hand not to grab at his sword to prepare for battle, marched back into the halls looking for Will.

He was sprawled out on his bed, one leg dangling off and humming some tune to himself as he shuffled through mythomagic cards, a new wrapper glittering evidence across his lap. The decks they'd set up were sitting on the floor right where they'd left them, untouched.

"You're cheating," Nico grinned.

Will didn't even jump. Just looked around with a ready smile. "You've memorized every deck, I'm just trying to catch up."

"You're going to have those stupid images seared into your dreams." Nico chuckled. "Trust me, you don't want to have the one where the katoblepones chase you around an old coliseum."

"See, I don't even know what that is," Will jumped off the bed and pocketed them with a shrug. "So, technically, you're cheating."

"Okay, then we don't play to win," Nico easily gave in. "Just play for fun. Why you think this will be fun is beyond me, you have all the monsters you want in those woods."

"Because in this game we all survive and win and are heroes," Will said with a wide-eyed, childlike stare.

Nico laughed, he felt like he should feel bad for having done that so much today when Percy and Thalia had had really crappy days, but it was harder not to around him.

Then Nico blinked and realized Will had been gesturing at himself with maybe a little more mocking in his mockery than Nico had been meant to pick up on.

"You're a hero Will," he said in surprise, voice just a hint angry, his face drawn tight if he should be offended at someone who had said otherwise.

"I feed kids godly food, often with no clue what it does to make them better," he shrugged with a wistful tone to his voice. "I can sing healing hymns, but I'm studying to do more. Until then, I practice. Can't get very far trying to perfect what isn't broken."

Nico didn't know why, but he felt called out. He knew he'd been holding onto his past with his sister with this stupid game and his stupid clinging to his long dead mom and had virtually nothing outside of his past to look ahead to.

Nico was beginning to suspect Will had set up a secret empathy link with him because he watched the blond instantly switch to healing, gentle, concern. Nico would swear he'd even started glowing, just a bit, as he stepped forward. Nico stayed where he was in the open doorway.

"You're your own person Nico," Will voiced his guess wearily. It wasn't a diagnosis he could run a test on, he felt invasive trying to explain something about Nico to Nico, but those dark brown eyes were still watching him for an answer. "You don't have to be who Bianca or Percy wanted you to be. Be mad at your sister, take as long as you need to get over Percy, you don't have to keep up this, this face for either of them."

Nico wanted to get angry. He wanted to tell this guy he had no idea what he was talking about. "I don't know who else to be."

He'd spent exactly five days at camp feeling 'normal,' by day anyway. Chiron hadn't been able to explain the nightmares other than the general, "I'm sorry my young friend, it is something all demigods must adjust to."

Nico hadn't told him details to help, he'd been to nervous the wise old centaur would see to much of a crazy kid talking about ghosts and kick him out. Other than that it had been great, he hadn't been worried for a single second Percy and his sister would be back while he trained with pride to be good enough for both of them.

Minos had been a whisper of everything wrong with him. He'd spent his days after the Titan War trying to figure out what was a lie and what had been the truth. Now he just wanted some space from his only solid link to his life, death, and yet knew he didn't want to let go all ties to his dad either. It made no sense to him, how could it to anyone else?

"That's okay," Will promised. "Just don't try to fight whoever that is."

Will reached out slowly, waiting for Nico to pull away any second, step out into the hallway the slightest bit to tell him he didn't feel the same, to run away again as Will's fingers finally graced the edge of his cheek. He didn't, just stayed frozen in place as Will leaned in to just the smallest breath apart so that Nico's shaky exhale ghosted across his face as Will whispered, "can I-"

Nico leaned in that last inch and kissed him.

He had never even let himself indulge in excessive fantasies of kissing a boy. The idea itself wasn't supposed to exist, let alone the one person he'd woken up dreaming of. Such forbidden delusions of Percy had always left him feeling like filth in his own skin.

Will didn't feel wrong, as his sun chapped lips gently brushed against his. It felt right as Nico put a curious hand on Will's shoulder and the boy so, so gently tightened his grip on his chin to lean in closer and pressed the tingling heat down more forcefully.

The son of Apollo leaned back and Nico's eyes snapped open without remembering when they'd closed to see that bright light shimmering around him he always seemed to carry. For one horrible train of thought he questioned what he'd been doing, Will of all demigods- but then Will smiled that same cheerful grin of his natural self and said casually, "that crush on Connor faded by the way. Not sure when exactly, but it's long gone. Just thought you ought to know."

"Um," Nico's lips were still warm and yet he felt strangely numb. "Yeah, that's good to know." Nico's hand had fallen away at some point, but Will was still gently holding his face, using his thumb to brush at his cheek where he suddenly realized he was blushing and the heat from his trembling mouth was still all he felt. It had felt so, so good, and he wanted to do it again...but he didn't, needed a moment...but he didn't want to leave...

Nico stepped to the side, farther into the room, and Will's hand fell away but watched him curiously. "So, want to get started playing?"

"I call first dice roll!"

Nico was smiling to much to spoil Will's fun it was usually the highest roll that went first. He seemed to enjoy himself more when he ignored rules around Will.

PJOPJOPJO

*The exact image that came to my mind/ Percy's mind was Venus and Cupid lamenting the dead Adonis (1656) by Cornelis Holsteyn. I took an art history class a couple years ago and guess which my favorite section was.

[goombasa]

Tropes are Good, Actually

If you spend any time in a generalized fandom, that is, a group that is interested in a pretty broad form of media like literature, genre lit, video games, etc, you've probably heard people talk about tropes, the familiar building blocks that every story is built out of. But probably what you've heard more often is how bad tropes are to use in your story.

This is horrible advice and anyone who says this should instantly be discredited as someone to take seriously about writing in any medium.

There's a very simple reason for this: you can't really write without tropes. There are people who can remix, subvert, avert, and alter tropes depending on how their story is told, but tropes are not bad, they are a necessity. There's the old idea that a poor craftsman blames their tools, and that is true of writing tropes just as much as anything else. It is possible to overuse a trope, to be sure, and using a trope without trying to add anything to it can bore a reader, but that doesn't make the trope itself bad, it just means that whoever is using it isn't using it in the most interesting way. Even something as old as the tried and true ‘damsel in distress’ can be made more interesting with something as a perspective shift away from the rescuer to the villain or the damsel herself. Or make the damsel a different archetype entirely, like the hero, or a competent adventurer themselves. These ideas have been done before, to be sure, and have given rise to their own subtropes of the typical ‘damsel’ idea.

There aren't any entirely original ideas. All stories are built from what comes before. If you think something is wholly original before, chances are good you just haven't seen the inspiration for that story. Some inspirations are really easy to spot, others are much more subtle, but every story, every game, is built upon ideas and tropes and conventions that came before. 

Now yes, there are certain tropes that are ‘bad’ but only in so much as they are associated with outdated stereotypes and ideas of how certain people are used in fiction. But tropes overall are the basis and building blocks of storytelling and should be treated as such. If you see a trope that you think is bad, it's probably because the trope itself is so blatant and bare bones, or perhaps very overused. But the tropes themselves aren't bad, and I think it's very important to remember that, whether you are watching, reading, or playing something yourself, or if you're partaking in creating these things yourself. Because whether you are conscious of it or not, you are building your creation out of tropes, and even an active attempt to subvert or avert a trope is, in and of itself, a form of trope as well. Embrace it. Tools exist to be used, but you can always find new and interesting ways to utilize them. Examine how they've been used before and put that knowledge to use in your own attempts at making something.

Tropes are good. Tropes are tools. Tropes are storytelling.