#why am I rereading these books!!! this is painful!!!

[everywaythatmatters]

The fact that Fitz isn’t even capitalized in Burrich’s dialogue until he’s almost ten years old is just. God. He’s just a little kid and he just wants to be safe and loved and he doesn’t even have a name I can’t do this

[hanzajesthanza]

some terrible part of me wants to comparatively analyze the reynevan/jutta sex scenes VS the birkart/douce sex scenes as good VS evil…

it’s about the worship of VS subjugation of…

[supermarketcrush]

alright i finally finished a little life

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Final Quest

Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Requested by: @reader-bookling123: hiii I had a request for Luke where it kinda takes place in the past but he was dating reader and they were deeply in love but on their quest somehow reader sadly dies and Luke is just heartbroken and angry and he’s mad that everyone just moved on from her and maybe some cute reuniting moment

Summary: How a quest with the love of Luke's life turned him away from the gods

Warnings: Angst, major spoilers for series, graphic description of death, suicide (technically), anger, resentment, pain, fluffy ending, Dionysus and Apollo slander

Word count: 5.5K

Masterlist

Later A/N So I'm just now rereading Titan's Curse for the first time in like four years so I forgot that the Garden of Hesperides is west in the books. However, when I was researching the myth it was said to be some place north so I chose Canada. So that's why it doesn't reflect the book.

“Happy birthday, Luke,” my girlfriend smiled. Our lips were so close our noses were already touching. But just as I could feel the fleeting touch of her lips on mine, there was a flash of light, making her jump away from me in surprise. Looking over to the source of the light, I found my father standing three feet from us on the dock.

Neither of us had time to react before Hermes was speaking. “Hi Luke! Happy birthday. I have a gift for you.”

“Uh… th-thank you,” I tried to sound grateful but I was a little caught off guard and annoyed he ruined the moment.

“Oh, sorry!” he laughed, noticing my girlfriend who was still half in my lap. “How are you Y/N?”

“I- I’m well, Lord Hermes. How are you?” she asked nervously, awkwardly scooting away from me, moving her legs so their weight no longer rested on mine.

“Oh, no need with the Lord stuff. I may not be the god of prophecy but I am the god of gambling and I’m betting you two will get married. We’ll be family!”

“Father,” I tried to interrupt him as the embarrassment coursed through my veins, bringing heat up to my face. I didn’t even want to see Y/N’s reaction I was so nervous and embarrassed.

“Oh, right. Sorry kid. I forgot how much you teenagers hate sharing your feelings. But uh I’ve heard your prayers and offerings Luke and I have a quest for you.” My eyes widened. Finally. All my training would pay off. I could prove myself and go down in history as a hero. “I need you to get me the golden apples in Hesperides’ garden. Hera is getting a little too insufferable these days y’know?”

Y/N and I sent each other looks, our mouths open in hesitation. Our next words had to be careful. If we agreed to the wrong thing we’d be insulting Hera and I was sure she’d strike us down right here. She didn’t like demigods, to her we were an offense to marriage. Especially the ones that were a product of offense to her own marriage. “Thank you for the quest,” I carefully dodged his last comment.

“Of course, kid. Here, you’ll need this.” He snapped his fingers and in another blaze of heavenly light, a duffle bag appeared in his hands. “Well, good luck. I’ll see you back here when you bring me my apples,” he smiled, handing me the bag. “Uh, avert your eyes,” he warned. Waiting for us to cover our eyes, he disappeared in a golden spray of light.

When the world dimmed again I turned to Y/N. “Oh my god!” she yelled excitedly. She stood up, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking us both into the water. I laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “Luke, you’re gonna be a hero!” she gushed, pulling away so she could look at me.

“We’re gonna be heroes,” I assured her, placing a hand on her face. “Come with me,” I requested. My heart was thumping quickly in my chest out of excitement and nervousness. “We can be the Greek Bonnie and Clyde. Hundreds of years from now demigods will read our myths and say, ‘We can be like Y/N and Luke.’”

She looked at me, confused. “Luke, they were criminals and died tragically,” she laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay wrong analogy but you get the idea. Please, I can’t do this without you.” As much as I wanted my glory, I knew the Daughter of Apollo wanted it too. And I’d be damned if I couldn’t give it to her.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes!” I cheered, hugging her so tightly I ended up lifting her off the wooden docks. She laughed as I began to spin, even almost spinning us into the cold water.

~

After talking to Chiron and getting my prophecy, Y/N and I were off in a car that Mr. D had somehow acquired. The only reason we were allowed to take it was because I was 17 and had a little driving experience from when I would take my mom’s car when she was too out of it to even get groceries. I shook off the thoughts as Y/N once again went through our supplies and plan. She seemed nervous even though I assured her numerous times we’d be fine.

“Drachma, cash, ambrosia, passports, drivers license, an enchanted map, and a bow and arrow,” she repeated the contents of the duffle bag. “The Garden of Hesperides is in northern Canada,” she mused, looking at the map. “Heracles defeated Ladon with a bow and arrow by piercing each head through the eye.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assured, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on her thigh. I left it there, rubbing calming circles on the skin of her leg with my thumb. “Heracles did it before…” I said, the words slowly dying as they came out. Heracles already did it. I tried to shake off the thought that I was just redoing a quest. They were so uncommon nowadays it was an honor to be chosen for one. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to chase the doubt away. Besides, Heracles technically failed his quest, he didn’t bring them to Eurystheus. I would succeed in bringing them to the person who had requested them.

“What was the prophecy again?” she asked, still looking at the map.

I swallowed nervously. The prophecy was not optimistic for us. I couldn’t possibly imagine what we’d find out about each other on this trip that would cause us to lose our love for one another. “You shall go north to fruits, rare / Liar to liar, a father’s heir, / Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,” I repeated.

“‘You shall go north to fruits, rare,’” she repeated. “Obviously that means we’re going north to find the golden apples. “‘Liar to Liar, a father’s heir.’ Hermes is the god of lies. And I guess stealing makes you deceitful. Ergo, a liar… ‘Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,’” she repeated. I could hear the dread infiltrating her voice.

“Hey,” I interrupted her thinking with a squeeze to her thigh, “that could mean anything. Prophecies are just a guide. A starting point. It was so short and vague that we don’t even know if it’s talking about us. We’ll be fine,” I promised again.

“Yeah, of course,” came her voice. I glanced away from the road, finding a weak smile on her face.

“What kind of music does Dionysus have?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She opened the glove compartment, several things falling out of it.

She began to go through them. “Um, a concerning amount of Weird Al Yankovic.” I laughed as she continued to look through. She then gasped. “Oh my gods.” She held up something next to me that I took. I nearly slammed on the brakes as I glanced down at it.

I couldn’t stare at the CD in my hand too long so we wouldn’t crash but every time I glanced down at it I found a new horrifyingly wonderful detail on the album cover. It was Mr. D with the weirdest haircut I had ever seen. He was lying down on a cheetah print rug, his shirt was a zebra print and had the first several buttons undone so the viewer could see all of his glorious chest hair. That wasn’t even the most outrageous part. Mr. D was lying down next to a tiger with a gold chain around its neck. Hanging from the chain was presumably Mr. D’s stage name, “Dionomite” written in gold cursive and studded with diamonds. “We have to listen to this!”

“Already ahead of you,” she said, punching buttons on the dash. She took the CD from me and put it in. Once it was ready, our ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of various horn instruments being poorly played. “Did he play all the instruments himself?”

“Probably,” I answered as Mr. D’s voice came on. “Oh…” was all I could say as the squeaky singing made my eardrums bleed.

It was funny for a couple songs but then it just got annoying so we switched over to a single Beatles album.

~

We reached the Canadian border in only a couple hours. Thanks to the Mist we could drive as fast as we wanted without fear of mortal cops.

As we pulled up to the gate, the guard switched. Must have been a shift change. I thought nothing of it as I rolled down the window. “Passports?” the guard tiredly asked. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses despite the fact that he was under shade. I became wary but handed him the documents anyway. “Any plants, animals, dairy products, or drugs in the car?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“What’s the nature of your quest, demigods?” The customs officer removed his sunglasses, revealing a single eye. He then grew about three feet, revealing a cyclops.

“Hit the gas!” Y/N yelled beside me. I did, taking off. Now we had both a cyclops and the Canadian border police after us as I crashed through the plastic gate that went up and down. I swerved around guards and other cars, getting up on sidewalks and surely ruining the paint job.

But up ahead I could see them closing a heavy looking gate. Gods on our side or not we weren’t getting through that gate. So I swerved into the trees. “Hold on!” they were sparse enough that the car could fit in between the trees. Glancing in the mirror, I could no longer see border guards. But there was a 9 foot tall cyclops following us in the distance. Which would be fine, he’d never catch up to the car but the woods were getting thicker and now I didn’t know which way was the road.

Nature made its decision for me as I heard Y/N’s scream. “Luke look out!” But it was too late. A violent force stopped us and the car was suddenly still. There was so much force I was half afraid the cyclops had a friend but I just found a tree in the middle of the hood where the engine used to be. “Run!” I told my girlfriend, frantically unbuckling my seatbelt.

I ran to the other side, finding her struggling with the seatbelt. She threw the duffle bag at me before pulling out her knife and cutting the seatbelt away. When she hopped out, I took her hand. We ran further into the trees, the cyclops’ thunderous footsteps right behind us.

“Luke, we can’t run forever,” she breathed. She was right. We’d run out of energy before that thing did.

I thought for a moment, thinking of how we’d kill this thing. “At that big tree,” I pointed to a huge pine tree right in our path, “split up. Then we’ll circle back around and hit him from the side.” She nodded in understanding. We ran full speed at the tree until we each turned on the balls of our feet, dashing out of the cyclops’ path. The plan worked better than expected because he ran face first into the solid pine tree.

He crumpled to the ground, giving me time to retrieve my sword from the duffle bag. By the time I looked up, Y/N was already dancing around the beast, cutting him up with her knife. I jumped in, giving him the same treatment. We worked as a flawless team, striking and giving the other space as needed. Until finally, she cut the thing’s heels, forcing him to the ground. I took the opportunity to stab him in the eye, leaving behind only a pile of shimmery ichor.

When he was gone, I immediately pulled Y/N in my arms. Even at the relative safety of camp, I always needed her in my arms to calm down after battle. To assure myself that she was still there and I was still alive. The sound of her breath in my ear helped ground me. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, you?” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry I crashed the car.” She chuckled, pulling away from me.

“You’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s go see what supplies we can save and start walking.”

While the car was unsalvageable, all of our stuff was fine. So we grabbed out backpacks full of winter clothes and started following the map. It wasn’t that bad now but it’d be cold by the time night fell so I forced Y/N to put on sweatpants over her shorts.

I was kind of hoping the map would take us to civilization where we could rest for the night but it just seemed to bring us deeper into the forest and we had no flashlight. As it got darker and colder I got more nervous. “We have to find some sort of shelter for tonight.”

“I know it’s dark but it’s not that-” A pack of wolves howling cut her off. “Okay, yeah,” she agreed. She began looking around. “Any chance you could climb one of these trees? I don’t really want to be on the ground.”

I shook my head. “Even if I could get up high enough I don’t think any of the branches would support us.”

She huffed. “Shelter it is, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the wolves,” I teased. She had just killed a literal cyclops but she was afraid of some dogs.

“Hey, I don’t mess with wolves,” she said sternly. “After I saw that one movie about the kids stuck on the ski lift. You wouldn’t catch me in the woods at night yet here we are.”

“What about Capture the Flag?” I asked as we started collecting stuff to make a shelter.

“Well that’s different. There’s like 30 of us out there.”

“Do you want me to start sticking with you during the games? You know, if a wolf wanders in?” I teased.

“I’ll make my own shelter for tonight, thank you very much,” she said matter o’ factly.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” I apologized, tugging her back to me as she tried to storm off to get supplies. “Besides, we need each other’s body heat to keep us warm,” I whispered teasingly.

“Not a chance out here,” she scolded me.

“Worth a try,” I shrugged. “Everyone knows you can better preserve body heat if you’re not wearing clothes.” She just gave me an exasperated look before walking off again. “I’m joking!” I yelled after her.

By the time we had the shelter built up only about an hour had passed. We used pine needles to try to protect out bodies from the cold ground. And we used our winter coats as a blanket since we zipped them together. We laid down in the shelter, still shivering despite our best efforts. I held her close as she curled up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “Get some sleep,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.” I agreed with absolutely no intentions of waking her up. Judging by how fast her breathing evened out despite her constant shivers, she needed the sleep more than me. In the morning she’d yell at me for not waking her but it was worth it.

~

We had only been walking for a few minutes when we came across sled dogs. Ten siberian huskies all laying around patiently, harnessed to a sled. “Maybe these were the wolv-”

“Shut up,” she warned, giving me a light smack against the shoulder. I laughed as she hesitantly approached the dogs. “Hey guys, you waiting for someone?” She slowly reached her hand out to one of the dogs who calmly sniffed it before licking it eagerly. She gave him some scratches behind the ear in return. “Awe you’re such a good boy.” The dogs were now all up, wagging their tails and whining for pets.

I went up to the sled, finding a satchel tied to it. Opening it I found dog treats and a note. “All good huntresses need a pack of wolves.” Underneath it was a crescent moon. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the sender of the gift. Her aunt, Artemis. Last year, during the winter solstice, Artemis and her hunters had visited briefly. One of the hunters, Zoe, befriended Y/N. And even after she had told them she had a boyfriend, they still tried to recruit her. It never sat right with me, the way Artemis seemed so okay with breaking up a relationship.

“It’s for you,” I told Y/N, handing her the note. I handed her the note and she took it. She just sighed before stuffing it back into the satchel. “I don’t know why she’s so determined to recruit you.”

“I don’t know either,” she said, already tying our stuff to the sled. “But she’s gonna be disappointed because I’m kind of really into this one guy. I don’t know if you know him but he’s the son of Hermes. He’s gonna be a great Greek hero.” Her praise was enough for me to let go of my anger. Stooping down, I pressed a kiss to her lips.

The pack of sled dogs was perfect for the Canadian wilderness except for one problem. There was no snow. Still, they managed to pull us so smoothly it was like snow.

Soon enough, we pulled up to a garden. If it weren’t for the fact that they were literally in the middle of nowhere, this garden would be unassuming. It had a white picket fence and looked to be about an acre. Thousands of different types of plants grew, enchanting us with its smell. Off in the distance, in the middle of the garden, I could faintly see the golden fruits, the sun glinting off of them.

“The nymphs never gave Heracles a problem,” Y/N shrugged. I nodded, cautiously opening the gate, sword in hand. She held the bow up, an arrow already knocked. A quiver of them were slung over her back.

We crept in quietly, watching for signs of danger. She would watch our surroundings and made sure no nymphs attacked us while I kept an eye on the multi-headed dragon, making sure he didn’t stir.

Once we were about 20 feet away, he still wasn’t stirring. Y/N kneeled down behind some greenery, lining up her arrow. She took aim and fired. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the many scale covered head. The beast didn’t so much as stir. She looked back at me, as if seeking assurance. I nodded, telling her to try again. But rather than just take aim again, she crept a little closer. I almost told her to get back but I was afraid the dragon would wake up at my yelling. I held my breath, heart pounding as she tried again. This time she sunk it right through the eyelid but before either of us could react, another head moved. It snapped at her, jaws clenching around her waist. My blood turned to ice as I heard her pained scream. It was so horrifying to hear my body seemed to turn to lead.

I needed to save her. I forced my body into a run. I slashed at the neck that was currently holding my girlfriend in the air. Ladon dropped her, not without a claw slashing at me in turn. I managed to dodge it, scrambling over to Y/N. I wasn’t even comprehending whether or not she was conscious or if she was alive. I was too busy trying to tug her away. Golden fucking apples be damned.

I reached her, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to tug her to safety. But before I could make much progress, the beast’s claw was in my face again. But I noticed it too late this time, too focused on my girlfriend’s very pale face. The claw hit me in the face, sweeping me to the side. I couldn’t feel the pain but I could see the blood seeping into my vision. I tried to wipe it away but it just kept coming. With my non-blinded eye I could see Ladon going back to his prior position as if we were nothing. Like he wasted no energy maiming us. Nonetheless, it allowed me to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her awake.

“Y/N, we need to go!” I said frantically, worried he’d come back for round two if we didn’t get out soon. “Can you walk?” I looked down at her body and knew the answer. Her shirt was covering the extent of her wounds but teeth marks, each a few inches across, tore through her shirt and there was blood. So much blood.

“With help,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Okay, good,” I nodded. Her assurance eased me slightly. I slung her arm across my shoulder before pulling her up. She screamed as I raised her off the ground but nevertheless gritted her teeth and bore it.

“No!” she cried as I tried to wrap my arm around her to support her weight. I realized that in doing so I’d be pressing into her wounds. She sobbed in pain the entire time we slowly stumbled out of the garden. It pained me to hear her cries but I had to get her out of here. If I could just get her to the sled I could give her some ambrosia and she’d be fine.

When I finally got her outside the gate, I laid her down. I’d get her onto our transportation once she wasn’t in such a critical condition. “Hold on, I’ll get you some ambrosia,” I told her, moving toward the sled. But the weakest tug held me back.

I looked down at her, finding blood, sweat, and tears covering her face. “No,” she cried. Tears were pouring down her face as sobs wracked her body. “Ambrosia won’t help.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I held her face. Oh, her beautiful face. My heart clenched seeing it twisted in agony. “You’re gonna be fine. I promised you. I’m not a liar…” Tears were falling down my face now. She’s not fine. I realized that I’d become an unknowing liar.

Her hand reached up to my face, her thumb swiping over my blood covered cheek. “You’re not a liar. We were doomed from the start.” She took a labored breath and deep inside, I knew it was the end for her.

“Come on, no. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” I cried. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. As if physically holding on to her would keep her from slipping through my fingers like the wind. “Just hold on until I can get you to a hospital.”

“We don’t have time.” A small smile tugged at her face and I knew she was smiling through the pain for my sake. “I love you, Luke. Promise me you’ll move on?”

“What? No. You know I won’t. You’re the love of my life,” I insisted.

“Please, at least try?” she asked. “I don’t want you following me too soon,” she tried to joke. But her laugh turned into pained sobs as the movement hurt her body.

I cried harder seeing her in so much pain. Her breathing was getting shallower and more labored. “Fine, I’ll try,” I swore. Lie. “I love you. So much.”

“I’ll see you in Elysium,” she said through a peaceful smile. It would be a welcome sight if it weren’t for the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. I turned her to the side slightly so she wouldn’t choke on it but it wasn’t enough. The blood was coming faster and her body was shutting down. “I love you,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut.

“No, wake up!” I cried, shaking her slightly. “Wake up!” Her breaths were getting shorter and I was getting more desperate. “Do something!” I yelled up at the sky. Her father. My father. Anyone! But no one came. Her wounds didn’t stitch themselves together and her eyes didn’t open. I held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder long after she stopped breathing. Even the dogs started howling at the gods when her heart stopped beating.

~~~

“That’s why I hate the gods,” I murmured to Percy, watching the scorpion slowly creep up his leg. “They finally granted me a quest. It was all I ever wanted. But it was a joke. All my father wanted to do was piss off Hera and he was okay with using me and my girlfriend as collateral damage. And her father, Apollo,” the name came out of his mouth like venom, “the god of prophecy and healing let his daughter die. He knew she was going to die, even before the quest. And when he had the opportunity to save her, he ignored her.”

“I’m sorry she died but-”

“No!” I cut Percy off. “It would be one thing if she just died but she died over a fucking prank war. She died an agonizing death. Her aunt, Artemis, intervened in our quest but she still let her niece die a slow, painful death. They didn’t even help me bring her back to camp so she could be buried properly. I had to bury her in the woods like I had killed her and was covering up a crime.” I swiped away a tear as I noticed it slip down my face. I still couldn’t decide what was worse. Feeling her die in my arms or leaving her out there in the woods to rot. “And to make matters worse, no one seemed to care that she died. When I finally got back to camp a month later, they just pitied me. I begged Chiron to let me and some others go get her so we could give her a proper funeral but he refused. And when I tried to get others to join me to convince him, no one would go. After a couple days no one seemed to care that Y/N L/N was dead. A week later, another Apollo camper was claimed and they just gave her bunk away to him. Like she meant nothing.”

“But why Kronos? I’ve never heard of a demigod turning away from the gods. Even when horrible things happened.”

I sighed in contentment, remembering the projection he showed me. “Because he can bring her back. We’ll be immortal and without pain forever. He showed her to me. He said she’s happy in Elysium but she misses me,” I smiled softly. “But she misses camp too,” I laughed bitterly. “Annabeth, Grover, she probably would’ve missed you had you two met. But she never got the opportunity. But now, with Kronos, I’ll get to give her everything she wants.” I looked over at the kid. He seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Goodbye Percy,” I said as I stood.

“I’ll tell everyone at camp about you!” he called after me.

“If you make it. Pit scorpion venom will kill you in 60 seconds. Even if you do make it, I’ll still be long gone.”

~~~

I sunk the blade into my Achilles heel, destroying Kronos’ life source inside me. I laughed as I could feel him leaving me. And continued to laugh as I fell to the ground and felt my own life draining out of me. Looking up, I found Annabeth above me, her curls hanging in my face. “I’m gonna see Y/N,” was all I said.

Tears welled in her eyes as I felt her comforting hand stroke my hair. “Yeah you are. I know how much you missed her.”

“I’ll see you there too,” I promised her, just like Y/N promised me.

~

I stood in front of the Judges of the Underworld. I knew I messed up in my life but my sacrifice had to amount to something. And I had to get to Elysium. “Luke Castellan,” Minos read my name. “You are charged with… starting a war against the gods?” he read in disbelief. “Why were you not immediately sentenced to the Fields of Punishment?” If I still had a heart it’d be in my feet right now. I couldn’t go to the Fields of Punishment. “You should have cut your losses and taken the express line to the Fields of Asphodel.”

“Keep reading,” Rhadamanthus said, not even looking up from the papers.

Minos rolled his eyes but kept going. “Oh, you sacrificed yourself, killing Kronos and saving Olympus and all of humanity. Hmm. Well, you did still start a war with the gods.”

Aeacus leaned over. “Minos, this really is more of a formality than anything. All the gods have already given him a pass.”

Minos huffed. “Fine,” he picked up a gold gavel, “Elysium!” he declared.

Before I could even thank him I was transported into what looked like the Apollo cabin. It was strange, I knew this was supposed to be the Apollo cabin but it didn’t have all the bunks. It looked like a normal house but something about it felt so familiar. I looked around, realizing I was standing in the living room. This must be Y/N’s house, it even smelled like her. Decorating the walls were pictures of her and her friends and siblings. But on the mantle and side tables were pictures of us. I picked one up, noticing the fingerprint markings all over it. She must pick it up a lot.

Looking around, I found glass French doors in the kitchen that led outside. The view was breathtaking. Mountains rose up on either side of the bluest lake I had ever seen. I went outside, intending to enjoy the view. As I stepped outside I could smell fresh air and feel a perfect breeze. “Hey stranger,” a voice came from beside me. I turned, immediately letting out a choked sob as I saw her sitting there. She stood, coming to me and I immediately snatched her into my arms. She shushed me, stroking my back as I sobbed in her shoulder. “You came way earlier than I wanted but I’m glad to see you.”

I pulled away so I could see her face. The blood, sweat, and tears were gone. It was just her beautiful, perfect face. “You’re actually here,” I said, reaching a hand up to her face. I was terrified she’d disappear again just like she did when Kronos showed her to me in my dreams.

“I’m here. And so are you,” she smiled. “We’ll be immortal and without pain forever,” she swore.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Luke.”

~

Decades later we were opening our door to see Percy and Annabeth standing there. “Y/N!” Annabeth cried, jumping into my wife’s arms.

“Hey Annabeth!” she laughed, clutching the woman in a hug.

I looked over to Percy, finding him with smile lines and salt and pepper hair. “Hey cuz,” I smiled, extending my hand. Percy shook it and pulled me into a hug which I returned. I patted him on the back as I pulled away. “You know you can look any age you want here? You don’t have to be an old man.”

“I’m not an old man,” he insisted. “I was 80. Just anything older than 16 year old me looks old to you.”

I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. I turned to Annabeth, giving her a hug too.

Y/N took Percy’s hand. “Percy, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Everyone from camp whose already here has said great things.”

He smiled at her. “I’ve heard the same about you,” he returned, glancing at me. “Well we brought blue cake for dessert.”

Masterlist

A/N Omg this is quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written. But it also has one of my favorite endings. Thanks for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it

[neonacidtrip]

[text ID: Black image with purple text showing the tags from Tumblr user lyriumrain. The tags read as follows: #i’ve been thinking a lot about how you really can just tell whatever story you want #there are components that your story *can* include if you want to #but you don’t have to #there’s a billion trillion stories out there #might as well tell the one you want to tell how you want to tell it. End ID]

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore's Manipulations: Part 6(?)

I just reread the scene in Deathly Hallows of Dumbledore and Snape on Snape's memories after Lily died, and that entire scene reminded me of the scene at the end of book 5. After Sirius died and Harry was having his breakdown.

Snape breaking down in front of Dumbledore after Lily dies:

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?” “DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone. . . dead. . . ” “Is this remorse, Severus?” “I wish. . . I wish I were dead. . . ” “And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.” Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach him. “What—what do you mean?” “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.” “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—” “The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last, he said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear. . . especially Potter’s son. . . I want your word!” “My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist. . . ”

(DH, 573)

Harry breaking down in front of Dumbledore after Sirius dies:

“There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,” said Dumbledore’s voice. “On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.” Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words. “My greatest strength, is it?” said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. “You haven’t got a clue. . . . You don’t know . . .” “What don’t I know?” asked Dumbledore calmly. It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage. “I don’t want to talk about how I feel, all right?” “Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” [...] “Let me out,” Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore’s. “Not until I have had my say,” said Dumbledore. [...] “It meant,” said Dumbledore, “that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.” Harry felt as though something was closing in upon him. His breathing seemed difficult again. “It means — me?” [...] “I am afraid,” said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, “that there is no doubt that it is you.”

(OotP, 823)

I just, found these two scenes awfully similar in tone when reading the one in Deathly Hallows last night.

In both Snape/Harry are in emotional turmoil after the most important person to them dies. Both feel like dying (Snape: "I wish I were dead", Hary: "then I don't want to be human"). Both shout at Dumbledore when he speaks all too calmly of things they don't want/need to hear at that moment.

And Dumbledore speaks calmly and coldly to both of them, revealing information he hid from them both (to Snape he tells about Voldemort's immortality, to Harry he tells about the Prophecy) before guilting them through their grief into what he needs them to do.

Now, I'm not exactly blaming him, because, from his position, he needs Snape as a spy and he needs Harry to be willing to do anything to kill Voldemort — to take Voldemort as his responsibility. Dumbledore needs these things to happen to have the best chance of completing his plan to defeat Voldemort.

I just, can't help but note how cold it is. How cold and manipulative Dumbledore can be when he feels he needs to be. Even as he explains his care for Harry as a flaw in his plan, he speaks calmly and simply. And he is right caring about Harry is a flaw, because he always planned for Harry to die. He knew since he saw the scar on Harry's forehead:

“I guessed, fifteen years ago,” said Dumbledore, “when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.”

(OotP, 826)

And even if I think Dumbledore is honest in that he'd rather Harry wouldn't die, I don't think he cares for him as much as he says he does. In the same way, he's very cold towards Snape even years later when he tells him Harry must die. (I don't think Snape and Dumbledore are actually friends)

Idk, I just read the scene in DH with Snape and it really reminded me of the scene with Harry at the end of OotP.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about Jesper Fahey and religion.

Whilst we know that Matthias follows Djel, Inej follows the Saints, Nina was raised with the Saints but is atheist because of her understanding about Grisha, and that Kaz and Wylan adopted atheism based on their childhood experiences, we don’t get a lot of information about how Jesper feels about religion. We know he was raised with the Saints and that when he swears he says “Saints”, as does Nina, where Wylan says “Ghezen”. It’s notable to me that Matthias and Inej either rarely or never invoke a name in vain; I think Inej may say “Saints” in that context the odd time I can’t remember, but I’d argue in that case it’s probably because she isn’t specifically naming them to do so whereas Matthias would have to but I’m working off memory there so please feel free to correct me. But Jesper’s actual relationship with the Saints is arguably quite ambiguous, with no particular passages that point us in either direction. (Show!Jesper is highly implied to be atheistic in season 1 when Inej asks him what he thinks about Alina and he says he doesn’t care whether she’s real or not so long as they get paid, but there isn’t really anything like this in the books to my recollection) I think that might be because he has a far more complex and painful relationship with religion than we see on the surface level, and this has particular links to Nina’s belief that the Saints were possibly real people but were simply powerful Grisha not religious saviours/martyrs.

When Jesper was a child, his father would read him bedtime stories “from his Kaelish book of Saints”. At the same time, Colm was unintentionally damaging Jesper’s view of Grisha power and of himself by forcing him to hide it and telling him “that’s what killed your mother. That’s what took her away from us”. Alongside the self-hatred this cultivates in Jesper, seen mostly in Crooked Kingdom since he’s most open about it in the beautiful, heartbreaking chapter 24, I think it may have also impacted his relationship with religion. To be told as a child that these people are worshipped and valued for the things they could do, the same kind of things he saw his mother do and that he could be capable of, but that his power is a curse and a shameful secret that has to be hidden from the world is so damaging. It effectively raises the question: If it’s different for me than it is for them, what’s wrong with me? Why am I less worthy of love?

When Jesper already had these feelings growing inside him, feelings that went on to massively impact all the relationships in his life (most notably his relationships with Kaz and Wylan but I would also argue his relationship with Inej is affected by this as well) and actively endanger him when he began to try and fill the void he felt with gambling, to emphasise these emotions with something that could have been so beautiful and given him so much comfort by turning it into something that can be used against him by labelling him as less than others is so heartbreaking and honestly painful.

Obviously this is just an interpretation or a theory but this is how I feel about it when I reread, if anyone else has thought about this please feel free to add anything or contradict it with your own interpretation I’d love to read it.

[fuddlyduddly]

Hey, I saw you talking about reading The Haunting of Hill House via a trans lens and I got curious. Could you elaborate on that, please? Cause I found it really interesting.

yeah I can! I've been meaning to write some sort of article about why I feel Hill House is trans, so this is a good excuse to get these thoughts written out.It's mostly that I find the story and its themes to be very trans to me, specifically with the character of Eleanor; when I was a teen and didn't know I was trans, and I found myself drawn to her for reasons I couldn't understand yet. There are a lot of things about her that spoke to me as a pre egg-crack trans woman; the way she feels like she's been waiting her whole life for something, anything, but she doesn't know what; the way she's felt trapped by the expectations of her; the way she's so shy and withdrawing (she reminds me in a way of this quote from Imogen Binnie's Nevada: "Maria is transsexual and she is so meek she might disappear"); the ways in which Eleanor constantly feels out of touch with the people around her and can't figure out social situations; the ways she's never felt wanted ("I am a sort of stray cat aren't I?"); the way she is prone to misreading casual relationships because she isn't experienced enough to know she's mistaken; and especially how she so desperately wants to belong. Eleanor is so withdrawn and desperate for connection that she lets the House take her over because, at last, “something is at last really, really, really, happening to [her]”, and unfortunately I could relate to that; she's so desperate to belong that she'll let anything happen to her, even if it kills her.

One line in particular really speaks to me every time I reread the book: “—and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.” To me, that's what it felt like pre realization, every year would go by and I'd feel like I'd missed something; I wouldn't know what, but I'd know I'd let more time go by. Eleanor's story is one of a person who's been waiting so long to make a change, that when a change finally happens, it's too late for her; she's waited too long, and she's out of time. It's rather bleak, but so is gender dysphoria.

I think for me ultimately, any story about a woman who feels trapped and out of touch in some way will feel trans to me (I have a Letterboxd list about that with all sorts of movies on it), but Hill House really sticks out to me because of how acute and specific Eleanor's pain is, and how relatable I found her; her pain feels very transfeminine to me in ways I'm not quite sure how to articulate. I've found a lot of other transfems on tumblr who are also very drawn to Hill House, and in a way its very nice to see us all have a special connection to this book.

also part of this realization came from this post!

[redrandomposts]

tgcf crack au where there are three (two clones) hua chengs in the world

the flame master, wrapped in black clothes with bright red embroidery. eye covered with an eyepatch, reclusive, and when seen out of his palace is harsh. yet, somehow, the flame master became one of the most worshipped gods in heaven, his "flame" expanding to ghost fires and love. why?

an immortal priest, who wanders the lands. a sculptor, painter, devout worshipper. wearing red and white clothes, looking youthful and mischievous. he has a hand in the most breathtaking idols of the flame master, as well as a companion always by the flame master in his art pieces—a figure clad in white, sword and flower in hand.

a calamity in crimson and silver and black, lighting temples to flames and drawing blood with silver butterflies. in an ominous, crescent-smile mask, constructed a city for ghosts and became the bane of heaven. fell thirty-three gods with his martial arts and intellegence, until worshippers turned to him.

what do they have in common?

they are the same person. hua cheng; san lang; wu ming.

===

notes:

hua cheng imparts some "self" into the clones so they are basically apart of him

when hua cheng creates the ghost clone, he wants to remedy all mistakes wu ming made. he despises wu ming for being powerless. he also uses it as a lure, incase his highness did remember him.

san lang is actually a priest for dianxia, but he also wants to grow power as a god. so. even if he were ugly, he's willing to paint his highness next to him for the power to protect his highness.

with every passing day, wu ming grows more and more self-conscious, because his highness still isnt here, did his highness truly hate him? should he change, become unrecognizable, because his highness wouldn't come if he were there?

...anyways i think san lang should suffer a bit

while passing through yong'an, he witnesses the whole shebakle. in a panic, he shapeshifts into xie lian, effectively diverting all the punishment that should come. unfortunately, even if he were a clone, he still felt all the pain and isolation, and the talismans prevented him from escaping. later, after a few decades when he's finally tracked down, he has to he absorbed back into hua cheng because of the mental damage. hua cheng has to isolate himself after to calm his spirit (the only reason lang qianqiu isnt dead).

its just that i think xie lian should not be in the coffin. hes been through enough

anyways imagine if there were fanfiction about the priest and the god—oh wait.

yeah hua cheng discovers self-cest made by enthusiastic believers. idk would be rlly funny though

hey is there any active hua cheng clones in the books?? asking because i kind of am too lazy to reread it

[snoelledarts]

I was just supposed to find out, TEN YEARS LATER, on my own, that I had completely misread the books as a kid and Luke Castellan is TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD when he dies?!

You're trying to tell me that when he pulls that little trick on Percy with the shoes and Tartarus he's NINETEEN?! While Percy is TWELVE?! ...I have to go. I have to leave. Why WHY did I think he was fifteen? I think child me could not picture a teenager older than, like, sixteen years old and just decided that's how old Luke was. I did not account for Luke having a fully developed frontal lobe when I read the books. I am going to have to reread them, and they will cause me a whole new brand of pain.

I am devastated. Distraught. Do not contact me for a full 5 business days so I may recover.

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 17: more B&L

And more fourth wall, and therefore more Pengolodh.

TW: Some musings about what exactly Morgoth wanted to do with Luthien, but vague and rather silly.

Sauron, like everyone there knew Huan's "die on greatest wolf" prophecy. Where from???

Luthien faints! She's not that OP. Her cloak dazes Sauron and Huan saves the day. She takes the island, Sauron flees and doesn't notice Gondolin (I guess Ulmo did his mist thing).

Luthien says that she claims the island and the island replies! The magic goes away and it all crumbles (described in a very awesome way) and the ex-prisoners are in shock (who wouldn't?).

Luthien faints at the fainted Beren, because she thinks he's dead. Of all the books you had to reference Romeo and Juliet? Professor… It's a parody more than a serious thing. And it's so… But ok, maybe that's the point. Maybe the point is that of course B&L don't harm themselves because they have a functioning braincell. And estel. Not necessarily in this order.

Also, we get the note that Finrod is already with his father in Valinor. When? When is this written? I guess the only way to get this info back from Valinor to ME would be the War of Wrath, or maaaybe Gandalf told Elrond. But Gandalf barely remembered anything, so more like War of Wrath. Or Galadriel saw him in the mirror and she told Elrond who added this to the book. This would make sense.

Do we have any info on "Finrod got reembodied quickly" except this line above + fanon?

Nargothrond rebels against C&C and Orodreth becomes king. He doesn't kill them because he is afraid of getting more Doom of Mandos. This… isn't a very moral attitude. Well, at least he doesn't kill them.

Also, Celebrimbor disowns his dad. Or at least his dad's deeds.

Beren, against his better judgment, tries to leave Luthien in safety but she tells him it doesn't work this way.

They fight C&C. Luthien forbids Beren to kill Curufin. Which is great of her. (I wonder what she'd say about Celegorm, but probably the same.)

Curufin curses Beren. "Taking the sky and clouds as his witness" – I guess he is too afraid / too ashamed to mention the Valar. :þ He wishes Beren a painful death, soon. Which …kind of works?

Celegorm tbh doesn't do much in here. He does fight Beren, but Curufin seems to be the boss.

Beren is desperate, leaves alone, sings, Luthien (who was searching for him because no, she won't let him go on the quest alone) sings back. Again. It's not a full rescue, but still, it is the song thing again.

Description of Thuringwethil, who is just a large bat with iron (liteerally? metaphorically?) talons. And Sauron's mail-lady. Mail-monster? Sadly, we don't get an info on who killed her.

Beren curses his promise to Thingol, Huan lectures him, gives him a sort of prophecy and leaves. Why is everyone cursing things all the time?

Morgoth also knows what Huan's fate is (Everyone knows it. How? Did Celegorm gloat about it?), also, more info on how werewolves are made. So, Carcaroth.

Luthien gets a burst of Maiarin powers (because fate, plot and all. Yes. I know. But this is the genre.)

We got an absolute metal description of Morgoth's throne room: "his nethermost hall that was upheld by horror, lit by fire, and filled with weapons of death and torment". Upheld by horror. This is just peak description. (as long as it's sparse and the rest of description is actual description. Yes, HPL, I am looking at you) unspeakably

Morgoth, umm, reacts in a similar way as Celegorm, and we're told that it was the wickest idea he got since he escaped from Valinor. Which:

I respect Tolkien for putting it so high on the wickedness meter

Does the "since he escaped" addition mean that killing the Trees was more wicked??? Sorry, I'm not buying it. Depraving the Elves? Hmm. Making orcs was more wicked in my opinion (in the "from broken Elves" theory), and he indeed invented it before the whole imprisonment in Valinor, so I would like to assume this is what the narration means, but I somehow doubt it.

Please don't tell me that indirectly giving Feanor bad ideas was somehow more wicked than this. :|

Also, him and the Men… but that is vaguely canon and anyway Pengolodh said himself that he doesn't know what happenned, so this doesn't count. Because if it counted, this "most wicked" would be false.

And of course it turns against him. He gets blinded, everyone else falls asleep, the Silmarils glow brighter (reacting to Luthien?).

Out of the blue, we now get a quite sympathetic description of Morgoth being so tired and terrified and worried and …. see, Jirt, that's why. That's why I can't read him as you would like me to. Seriously. If you don't want me to have compassion for the guy, do not show him as emotionally vulnerable. Seriously. [Unless it is the translation again]

Yea, I could blame this on narrative frame (which goes on and off, in one paragraph he doesn't know things, and in the other he almost knows what Morgoth's inner emotional state is) and say that Pengolodh made it up… except it's very much a kind of thing he would not make up, rather cut out… I would have to assume some other author or editor added this for some reasons… If I were to guess, this very much sounds like something Luthien would say when telling this story. (Which tells us a lot about her)

Anyway: book, what are you doing?

And Luthien puts Morgoth to sleep (which is an achievement!!!), "as black as the Outer Void where he once wandered alone". Jirt. Seriously. Stop giving me ammunition to like him. I almost wish I had more normal reactions and, idk, assumed more details on what he planned about Luthien or anything that would allow me to read it closer to the authorial intent. (Because with how cautiously you worded it, it might have as well been planning to propose to her and make her a dark queen, Haladriel-style, but cooler. And from a book that says "corrupting Fefe was one of the worst" I could assume this would be still called "wickedest since fefe". I know that's not what you mean, but I wish I could internalize it more.)

My brain is not braining properly. (Also I can't learn to not mistake "wonder" and "wander" every once in a while. I blame it on that one song from RoP. Which is almost as uneven in quality in my eyes as this chapter.)

At least, we get a description of how the Silmarils were set in the crown. (Also, my drawing was wrong, because Morgoth falls face-down.)

Beren takes the Silmaril and it glows through his flesh like in a lantern (White or red? Seems more like white, but red often works better with fanart.)

Luthien is out of spell points tired, Beren tries to use the Silmaril on Carcaroth, saying "this is the fire that will destroy you and all the evil creatures" which I think is quite stupid, so Carcaroth promptly bites off his hand, chomps the Silmaril and runs away because he's in pain.

"Stupid but well-intentioned thing doesn't work but gets the result anyway" is a trope I like, but sadly in Legendarium it is terribly rare. Again, B&L have a different genre than the Feanorians. :(

Another "the most X to ever X": Carcaroth's rage is the most terrible thing to happen to Beleriand (before the War of Wrath). OK, I can believe this, I think.

Eagles! They should really have a tagline about providing eucatastrophes. It's their main job.

Morgoth is probably awake, because volcano and lightnings are striking from the gound (lightning seems to be his thing, and thunderstorms in general too).

Luthien (in contrast to Sauron) can see Gondolin down below and it gets a beautiful (but short) description. Also, she'd rather wander aimlessly with Beren because she is so happy, but he remembers that he gave his word, also Thingol deserves to see his daughter, despite all his problematic behavior. Beren is so kind.

We get a lot of information from Luthien's PoV in this story, more than Beren's, which confirms to me that in-world, this is derived from Thingol's retellings of their story, and Luthien told him more than Beren did. Also, he was unconcious in many important moments.

Also, we get a note that it's bad to ignore father's opinion, "unless in extreme situation" which sounds quite feminist to me, considering Tolkien's times and the genre.

Meanwhile in Doriath:

Daeron left Doriath to be sad for Luthien's disappearance (we aren't told if he even learned that she returned with Beren). Well, he did snitch on her twice. :þ Also, we are reminded that "he was considered better even than Maglor". :Þ

Thingol is mad at Celegorm (for the "let me marry Luthien pls" letter + probably for Finrod's death), he'd like to attack all Feanorians, but can't, so he writes to Maedhros demanding help in finding Luthien, but the letter gets eaten by Carcaroth (probably. Definitely doesn't reach its destination) so we don't know what Maedhros would do.

[I think: berate Celegorm, agree to help with Luthien and demand the Silmaril for it. Which… Thingol may have agreed to tbh. He cared for Luthien more. So, maybe if it wasn't for Carcaroth things would be better. Even for Celegorm. There's a fic potential in here.]

Oh, here is Mablung. He will be in CoH too, I think.

Thingol is still not a fan of Beren. Until the hand pun. Absolutely realistic father-in-law behavior. :D I love the genre whiplash.

And the narrative tells us that Luthien's love is a feeling unknown before and all the powers of Arda cannot stop B&L's fate. I'm not a fan of this sentence, it makes me cringe a bit. Did I mention that I dislike romance as a genre?

Anyway Thingol ok-s it and they get married.

Hunt for Carcaroth. The way in which Mablung takes the Silmaril gives me a vague Arthurian (Grail) vibe, but I'm not sure. It is weird and the disappearing hand seems the medieval sort of weird?

Beren dies, Luthien … It doesn't say explicitely that she died of grief. I would prefer to believe that it was more like her Maiarin instinct… she went to Mandos, because she had a business there.

Also. Men after their death sail from the dark shores of the Outer Sea — what? That is so cool. And who runs the port there, who has a house on the very edge? Nienna! This is just so fascinating. Early-Legendarium-like but in the best way.

Luthien sings the most beautiful song that has been made. OK, I can buy that. And, says Pengolodh, there wasn't, nor will ever be a saddest song. My guy, you would sound wiser if you stopped saying what will be and what will not be, you are not Namo. But anyway, her song is beautiful and very, very sad.

This song is so amazing that it's still sang in Valinor, without any change, and the Valar are sad. that is… interesting to explore. It is about Men and Elves and even Namo is sad… yes, I am definitely getting ideas. Which may be explored some day. Or not.

I wonder whether we get the words of it in the Lay... No, the Lay doesn't go this far. I therefore will assume that it starts with "the stars have faded" or something similar, like we have described Luthien's grief in the chapter: "the starlight was quenched and darkness had fallen even upon Lúthien Tinúviel"

B&L say their goodbyes, Namo is so moved that he goes to Manwe, Manwe goes to (metaphorically; mentally in his deepest mind) Iluvatar, Luthien gets a choice.

And the invitation to forget Beren and live among the Valar… I'm not sure what is the exact deal here? Is she offered just a normal Elven Valinorean deal or to make her a full-on Maia? Because it kind of sounds like this. And… why not? The word "impossible" got yeeted out the window anyway (I love such situations, of course I do, I love the insane out-of-the-box-ness as Mairon loved order and efficiency, but hopefully the other way around ie.: it is a problem first and not last).

Anyway we don't know what exactly was the first option, because she choses Beren (I really like to think it was less about "romance means so much to me, I am not complete without my man" and more about "it feels like a beautiful idea (and I do love him and forgetting it sounds cheap and too easy)" but … have I mentioned I don't like romance as a genre?)

Luthien was the only Elda to truely die��� Yep. Hold our beers and behold our fics. (Or maybe it is just my optics that Elves going "because Luthien made a precedent" is a fic staple? Anyway this makes too much sense to not use it.)

Yes, she's the only one in the canon. She died and it's sad. But we got half-Elves which is cool. Also, and we got a teaser for Elrond and Arwen:

"Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, though all the world is changed, the likeness of Lúthien the beloved, whom they have lost."

Also, poor Elrond. This paragraph shows us how he is seen by other Eldar. First and foremost as a memory of a long-lost legend. :(

I feel like I missed some of the cool parts, but nevermind. TLDR: Luthien cool, narrative frame inconsistent.

[yuseirra]

hikaai is such a funny ship. I feel like I'm defending someone in court for being wrongly convicted... pleading "Oh, there is no way he could have done it, your honor!" with the basis being.. my hunch (but there IS more than that) So it's... not exactly about being happy and excited at this point(I love drawing them btw), it's more about being unable to overlook some things.

Either the guy is so good at lying and his entire life that's been described so far is a lie, or it's that he's extremely hurt and timid (he couldn't even go visit his gf giving birth and go see his own kids because he got nervous if what he claims is the truth PL EASE Hikaru.. oh, goodness. But I think this DOES fit his character... it's oddly realistic. And he treats his children quite lovingly after that? The way I see it?)

but even if he can fool ME, I doubt he would have been able to fool Ai. She's the better liar, her whole story revolved around her lies and love and there's a scene where she literally reads him like a book within the story. If Ai and he fights, he does not have even the slightest chance to win. He does not stand a chance against Ai. That's what happened regarding the 15 year old lie as well, he didn't have a clue when it came to HER lies. I like that about them. They're very tragic, but you know, the way Ai steps in and leads him is sweet. That part of it is kind of cute. That's EXACTLY why she's worried about him, everyone, he's so vulnerable and so easy to be taken advantage of. It happens OVER AND OVER. I'D worry if I knew a person like that.

Am I the only one who feels this way? This character is being bullied. I shouldn't have to care about that, he's just a drawing, he can go to jail or HELL if he needs to be punished, I won't care about him if HE'S the one who's killed Ai (he's still good-looking but my feelings for him would change a whole lot) but don't people see?; Ai decided to help him because he was bullied as a child!! She couldn't bear seeing the guy she found endearing being in pain! I think that's happening again! And Ai's dead now so she can't help him anymore... their children have to do it in her place... This whole situation makes me feel like I'm watching a bullying incident in school but being unable to do anything about it... I feel really bad. Why are these things happening to him? It'd be better for HIkaru's sake if he really IS evil and is some sort of god that drives people crazy, that's the other way this could make sense but would that be a good story? It won't be, so I don't think that's it.

By the way I've been rereading ch 1 a lot because Ai-

and if I had a gf like that who'd risk everything they had going because of their love towards me (that's EXACTLY what she's doing there) I could give my life. She's so lovely?? I'd love her with all my heart. Yeah she's hurt Hikaru so much from that lie she told him but, it was an action so full of love, I get it so well. She's that sort of character, she's the embodiment of love. So I think Mephisto must be the boyfriend's song. Ai risked everything for him, and I don't picture the guy she loved acting any different for her sake. He wouldn't have fretted over giving his own life for someone like that, in fact, he'd wish to do MORE if he could. Being the super.. timid person he used to be, he's probably been pushing himself really hard. However, I don't even know how much he's capable of doing because I feel like 'Huh..with this personality, can he really even go that far?;; CAN he actually do something for Ai in a drastic manner?;'

yeah.. this ship is stressful.. it's golden though! I just hope things get resolved somehow and soon. nervous laughter

I should go play my game too~ I wish I had several bodies, there's so many things I want to do and have to as well..!

[captaindamianos]

Hi! Can you recommend some good Captive Prince fics? I just finished the series and I loved Laurent so much

Hi anon!! Welcome to the fandom 🤗

I've considered doing a fic rec post for a long time so this is a perfect opportunity for me. Please forgive me for the delay. It was Eurovision week when you sent this and it was (and still is) incredibly distracting for me.

Here are some of my favorites, I'm going to offer a variety of things, because I absolutely love AUs, all variations of them, but I know that's not everyone's cup of tea and immediately after finishing the series people tend to like canon and canon-divergent the most, so I'll try to focus on those:

Canon Divergence:

Ransomed Prince by Turtletotem

I started reading this fic back when I still was in the fandom and I absolutely loved it. When I rejoined in 2021, the last few chapters got posted and I've reread it like 10 times already. Please heed the warnings but I just really enjoy the development of their relationship in this fanfic.

Winged Cupid Painted Blind by Kittendiamore

A lot of scheming from Laurent, which is always a good time in my book. It's been a bit since I've read it, but I always enjoyed it.

No Rush by blacktofade

One of my favorite things are Auguste lives AUs were they meet under different circumstances. This is one of my absolute favorites of those and I've read it again and again.

When the sun is on again by thickenmyblood

I've read this story once and it absolutely destroyed me. I was not okay for a few days haha. It's still one of the most amazing things I've ever read. So I would still recommend it, but be careful.

An Arranged Marriage by Josselin

The slow build of this one, I absolutely love rereading it every few months.

Bright as lightning by blacktofade

Another arranged marriage AU haha. Please trust me on this, this is such a good story.

sanguinary poultice, love charm by Lapin

God this is so good, nothing really to say besides do yourself a favor and read it.

How To Not Court A Veretian Prince by Entity_Sylvir

It's been a while with this one as well but I know it was one of my favorites.

Canon Compliant:

The Consummation by Josselin

I have to admit it's been a while since I've read this one. But I know that I really enjoyed it, and it's a very real depiction on how this could go and how the unification will likely have its hurdles.

Wicked Game by onekingdomonce

An anmesia fic, that I've read at least twice. It's painful, but it's worth it. I can recommend everything by that author that is Damen/Laurent. I've not really read any of the other pairings, because i don't multiship Damen and Laurent.

Alternative Universe:

four sevens and a ten by fahye

I know people tend to recommend Fahye's everything (their ´Lines On Palms' series and their tumblr ficlets (link 1 link 2) in particular). But I've grown up absolutely adoring the Swan princess movie, so this one sticks out to me personally. It's a lot darker than the movie, and it has it's very own narrative and development. But god do I love and recommend it.

The Veretian Flytrap by Just_Another_Day

Technically this feels very very canon divergent to me, but since the whole story is Omegaverse I'm putting it here. I know a lot of people don't enjoy Omegaverse fanfics, which is totally valid. But this fanfiction is one of my favorites in this fandom of all time. The world building, the character development, the culmination of it all. I adore it, I reread it every few months and I can't recommend it enough.

A Touch of Heavenly Light by forthelongesttime

I would recommend reading everything by this author. I am absolutely in love with their writing. I like how realistic they write and how they don't shy away from facing ugly things as well. This story in particular is dark and I urge you to check the warnings. It's not for everyone, which is why I recommend checking out their entire list of fics. But if the warnings don't scare you, please check it out!

Alternative Universe - Modern:

between the motion and the act by fahye

And to be contrary once more, I'm also recommending another one of fahye's AUs haha. I really liked this show, and I think it's an amazing fit for a modern AU for Damen & Laurent. Fahye just has an absolute talent for putting them into alternate universes and make them believable to me.

Fear not the thorns by relenafanel

Back then written by one of my favorite Stucky writers, I still absolutely adored it when I reread it in 2021. I definetely recommend checking it out if modern AUs are your thing.

A few authors I'd like to recommend in general:

idratherhaveyou (lots of different AUs, all of them a pleasure to read)

PenguinMerchant (again a lot of different AUs and settings. The worldbuilding is immaculate and always leaves me in awe. All of those AUs also fit them so well.)

Holly_Golightly (one of my favorite unfinished wips in this fandom, I'm still holding out hope haha but everything else they've written was absolutely amazing as well. Very spicey usually. Can't recommend them enough.)

elesary (Can you tell I love AUs yet?? Some are canon compliant or canon divergent, but I especially adore their modern AUs.)

ahdriking (another one of my favorite wips - hardest of hearts - and also just a lot of really spicey stuff, but god, so good.)

[bomberqueen17]

The Witch King

This is not like, a coherent review or anything.

Yesterday I was just like possessed with anxiety nonstop the whole day and everything I did seemed to make it worse and i just like spun my wheels and I got some things done but mostly felt worse and worse and more and more stressed, due partly to external circumstances but largely, i think, to nothing in particular. And finally after dinner I was sitting on the couch comfortably and realized you know what, fuck it, I am not going to "try to write" and wind up refreshing tumblr and chatting on discord all night, not while I'm already fretting and stewing like this, i'm going to be miserable and probably get in a fight or something and i don't want that. Fuck it. So I went to the tab I already had open in my browser, which I'd had open for weeks but the time was never right, and I bought the kindle version of Witch King and read it right there in my browser, the whole way through, did not click away or put it down or move or do anything else, and you know what it was fantastic.

I'd read a preview and been like hm i don't know what this is about and read a couple of amazon reviews that were like this was really confusing, some of which concluded so i didn't like it and some of which concluded so i super liked it, and like, I've been a fan of Martha Wells since she put the Element of Fire up for free chapter by chapter on her Livejournal when the rights reverted to her in like 2006 or so, so I knew what I was going to get and also knew that I would not particularly know exactly what I was going to get until I got it, and I also knew I was going to enjoy the ride, but I hadn't wanted to read it in stolen or exhausted moments lest the "this is confusing" bits prove too much.

In the end I found it not in the slightest bit confusing, it was a very straightforward interspersed flashbacks storytelling technique that i thought suited the story beautifully (not to be spoilery but we join a character in medias res with an action scene and it's him trying to figure out who has betrayed him in a complicated political scenario, and in the process of unspooling this he has to revisit the site of where the complicated political scenario was first set up, some sixty (?) years earlier, so he's retracing his own steps and it's really well done I think, introducing new bits of history right as they're relevant to the current storyline-- and just fantastically done, not at all forced, completely natural and compelling, and no the reader isn't told anything they don't need to know but you do get everthing you need to know, there's no unneccessary coyness at all).

So anyway i loved that, and I hope there's a sequel planned but it stands alone just fine if not, I'm already figuring i'll alternate my rereads and do every other chapter each time, so I can do All The Backstory first, then All The Current Timeline story, and that's such a fun way to eke out many many many rereads of a story that like all of Wells' works I will reread until I have chunks of them memorized (anyone who has read my works surely has found whole undigested bits of hers bobbing around in there because I do this so much; I found the phrase weary past bearing in something of mine the other day and was like oh that's moon when ember first shows up i stole that whole emotion wholesale out of the third raksura book yes i did).

Little side notes: Love the aroace qpr vibes with Kai and Zeide, also sort of enjoy the lowkey genderfuckery that comes with a demon who has his own gender then inhabiting bodies that had different genders. Great magic system too, and I love that we first get introduced to how Kai's pain magic works as a like totally fait accompli chunk of didactic worldbuilding and then in a later chapter we get to see the flashback of him inventing it and understand why it works the way it does, that was also so well-wrapped-up.

Anyway-- Definitely recommend this one but probably it is best if you can do it like I did, in one big binge-read. It took me probably three hours and I was trying hard not to read it too fast.

Yeah. Anyway. People assume I'm a big reader. I was, as a kid. I am not now. This is the first new book I've read since probably the spring sometime. I don't casually read things i only read them if I'm going to add them to my Pantheon of Rereads, and that goes for fic too mostly.

[nonagesiiiimus]

eden's tlt reread: a sidebar on names- palamedes (and cytherea)

i cannot stop thinking about the names of these characters and their many, many, many different references and deeper meanings. i haven't even finished my chapter two analysis because I am thinking about names so much. i know i've talked about it before. I am going to talk about it again. sue me. i want to talk about Palamedes and Cytherea's names. i will eventually get to chapter two. but for now...

Palamedes Diomedes:

Palamedes was originally going to be named Diomedes, who is also a figure in the Trojan War. Diomedes was the King of Argos, a friend of Odysseus, and a man admired by Athena. in the Iliad, Diomedes charges into battle and ends up wounding Aphrodite. additionally, in the battle, as he heads in, he is blessed with the protection of Athena:

"She set the man ablaze, his shield and helmet flaming with tireless fire like the star that flames at harvest, bathed in the Ocean, rising up to outshine all other stars." (Iliad, 5.4-6)

here’s why i think the characterization of Palamedes and Diomedes is important, even though Palamedes was not actually named after him in the final book. there are some clear parallels. Diomedes was smart, brave, and blessed by the goddess of wisdom and tact on the battlefield. Palamedes is the first of the house of the scholarly Sixth librarians and the living legacy of the incredibly tactful and brilliant Cassiopeia. i can’t help but feel that Athena setting him ablaze with bravery as he charged into Troy is akin to Palamedes charging into Dulcinea/Cytherea’s room and, after completing his mission to ring the truth out of her, bursting into flames. user u/onlymodestdreams on reddit also pointed out that the bursting into flames aspect also calls back to the Paul transformation in NTN, something i totally missed but absolutely think is relevant here.

Cytherea:

why mention Aphrodite before? so glad you asked. Cytherea is another name for Aphrodite, as recorded in Homer’s Hymn 5 and 10 to Aphrodite:

"Muse, tell me the deeds of golden Aphrodite the Cyprian, who stirs up sweet passion in the gods and subdues the tribes of mortal men and birds that fly in air and all the many creatures that the dry land rears, and all that the sea: all these love the deeds of rich-crowned Cytherea." (Homer’s Hymn 5 to Aphrodite)

"Of Cytherea, born in Cyprus, I will sing. She gives kindly gifts to men: smiles are ever on her lovely face, and lovely is the brightness that plays over it." (Homer’s Hymn 10 to Aphrodite)

Kythira, or Cythera, is a Greek island where the Phoenicians brought the worship of Aphrodite—hence, her secondary name as Cytherea. Cytherea/Aphrodite is a goddess of love and beauty, but also of war and violence and, across many stories, revenge. it’s quite familiar to how we see Cytherea portrayed in GTN: a goddess, beautiful and charming and enchanting, but full of rage and pain and vengeful angst. and of course, she was injured by Palamedes, just like how she was injured by Diomedes during the Trojan War! some people argue that Palamedes’ sacrifice did nothing to hinder Cytherea, but it’s pretty clearly laid out at the end of GTN that him going dynamite mode really injures Cytherea and affects her ability to heal on her own without siphoning from Ianthe:

"As Gideon watched, somewhere between horror and fascination, the earlier wounds—the ones Palamedes had inflicted when he blew up the sick room—began to reopen… 'What in the hell?' objected Gideon, more to relieve her feelings than in hope of an answer. 'She hadn't healed,' said Camilla weakly… 'She'd just skinned over the damage—a surface fix, hides the cracks.'" (p. 420).

Palamedes:

Palamedes is another Greek hero from the Iliad, one who outsmarted Odysseus and was betrayed by those he saw as allies. when Odysseus pretended to be insane instead of going to serve in the Trojan War, Palamedes understood Odysseus was trying to trick them. to prove this, he threatened Odysseus’ son's, forcing Odysseus to reveal he was not insane. by ensuring Odysseus entered the war, Palamedes played a big part in the Achaeans winning the war. Odysseus, still feeling betrayed by Palamedes getting him to come to the front lines, later framed Palamedes as a traitor by forging a letter from Priam, resulting in Palamedes being stoned to death by his supposed allies (Apollodorus Epitome E.3.7-9).

Palamedes was described by Dares Phygrius in his History of the Fall of Troy as "tall and slender, wise, magnanimous, and charming" (reference). he is also credited with many academic inventions: "Palamedes had a reputation for sagacity, and the ancients attributed a number of inventions to him, including the alphabet, numbers, weights and measures, coinage, board games, and the practice of eating at regular intervals" (Britannica).

Palamedes was clearly a super brilliant man—from his dealing with Odysseus to his prowess on the battlefield to his scholarly inventions. his hand in pushing Odysseus into the Trojan War- his ability to see through Odysseus' lies and disguise of insanity- was what led to his death by his allies, but also to the victory of the Achaeans. for Locked Tomb Palamedes, the parallel is quite clear. his intelligence and his physical appearance sound quite similar to historical Greek Palamedes. without Palamedes' ingenious discovery of Cytherea and his subsequent death because of her, someone he once trusted, Harrow would likely have never triumphed. instead, they all might have been defeated one by one by Cytherea. Palamedes’ sacrifice provided Harrow with the crucial impetus to confront the enemy directly and ultimately secure victory.

Palamedes is also an Arthurian hero. Palemedes in Arthurian tales is a Middle-Eastern knight, known for a couple key things. first, he is in love with a woman named Iseult. He loses the fight for Iseult's hand against another knight, leaving his love unrequited (but still there). he remains in love with her, despite not being able to be with her. he is also one of the knights said to have fought the Questing Beast, a mythical monster that represents all the core issues of the Arthurian time that eventually tear the society apart. to me, this too sounds like our TLT Palamedes: unrequited love, questing to destroy something that he sees as the root of evil. whether that's Jod, the lyctor process, or the resurrection beasts is hard to tell, but to be honest my vote is for the former two.

there's so much buried in a single name, that sets up some of the most complex and incredible characters in the series. this is the kind of shit we live for, and honestly why this series is so addictive. everything unspools into something bigger.

please note that i am not a classics scholar by any means, so there are errors in here i'm sure. please correct as you see fit!