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athenaistired · 6 months

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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟑 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ᴅᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ.

art credit & word count: 2634

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ᴀʙᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪᴇꜰ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !3!

Donna woke up to the sunlight forcing its way through her eyelids. She was in an unfamiliar bed, with Diluc gone from her side, and with a strange string attached to her arm. Her memory was still hazy; the only thing that she could recall was that she was speaking to you about Diluc, but somehow she ended up here.

“You’re awake.” An unfamiliar man in a black suit was sitting in front of her bed on a chair, he seemed to be reading a book in another language with a drawing of a human’s head on the cover, “I’m Sebastian, personal doctor working for Master Y/N in case of emergencies. Just call me by my name. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore all over..” Donna mumbled back, to which the man nodded, “And.. My stomach kind of hurts..”

“That’s expected.” He reached for the paper laying by her nightstand, “You’ve been here for 32 hours, in and out of consciousness. Your medical record is missing information about your allergies, but considering that you and Master Y/N were having tea together, I’d say that you had quite an aggressive reaction towards some type of fruit which was used to make the blend.”

The moment he explained what had occurred hours prior — memories came rushing back in Donna’s mind, and she instantly felt more awake than ever.

“So.. It wasn’t poison?” She asked with hesitance, and the man almost dropped the mug which he was holding in his other hand.

“What kind of person do you think Master Y/N is to poison someone in a broad daylight, in their own home, with this many people around? Of course this was an accident.” The doctor scoffed and got up, “Anyways, leave whenever you feel like it. You seem more than fine to me.” He quickly detached the IV drip out of her hand, and bandaged up her elbow, “Try not to put any unnecessary strain on this arm.”

“A-Alright..”

Donna had actually never seen one of the proper doctors before in her life. Her family were strong believers in Herbology and Barbados’ will, so she wasn’t exactly sure why the doctor had concluded she was allergic to some fruit. Her whole life she tended to the gardens, sold massive varieties of flowers, and even once was a waitress at the bar with all kinds of drinks. Something didn’t seem to perfectly match what Sebastian had described, but maybe she just had to ask you what the two of you had that day to get to the bottom of this situation.

“Donna! Are you alright?!”

Suddenly, the doors bursted open with Diluc rushing inside. He looked even worse than last time she saw him. He was beginning to smell, his hair was forming mats and shining with grease, and his eyes were puffed and red; huge eye-bags forming above his cheeks.

“H-honey.. What has happened to you?” The woman gasped in shock at the appearance of her lover. He seemed to be taken with surprise by her reaction, and took a few steps back to stare at himself in the mirror.

The man froze.

Slowly, he reached to cup his own face as if he couldn’t recognize it.

“That dammed Y/N..” He mumbled to himself, “I am actually falling apart..” He whispered, while crouching down to take a seat on the ground. Now, Donna was more than worried. She got up from her bed and hugged her lover in a tight embrace, “Did they do something to you?” He pulled away to look deep into the woman’s eyes, “Did they hurt you?”

“I..” The brunette wasn’t sure what to say. Was she poised? Was this intentional? Accidental? Were you naturally hostile or angered by the circumstances? She had no clue. “I don’t know. Sebastian told me that I had an intense allergic reaction to something and that Y/N called in the medics to save me.”

“Oh.” Diluc blinked in surprise, “T-that’s confusing me even more now..”

“I know..” The woman sighed, “I know.”

You sat at the edge of your bed, as Marie kneeled before you with your right hand in her skillful palms. Your feet were soaking in a warm tub with rose petals floating above the water’s surface, and the maid gently trimmed your cuticles and the length of your nails to perfection. The two of you sat in silence throughout the whole procedure, as you stared at the flickering flame of a candle on your nightstand.

“What do you think, Marie? What are they going to do next?” You asked her a question, and she didn’t even bat an eye before answering to you.

“They are going to try to murder you, my Master.”

You didn’t expect such conclusion. Truly, your death seemed to be an only out for Diluc’s desperate cry for freedom. The moment he’d sign a contract provided by you — his life would be over. Staying in the same mansion with you would also ensure his and Donna’s suffering until their last breaths. But in order for him to be back in control of his future — he would need to erase you. You let out a bitter laugh, however, Marie’s expression remained as stoic as always.

“What do you think I should do?” You questioned further. You watched her grab a warm cloth, and rub your palms in gentle motion, as if trying to cleanse you of your sins.

“I am a mere servant, my Master.” She reminded you.

For a second, you saw red. Without a thought you slapped her hands away from yours’ and grabbed at her chin — forcing her to look you in the eyes. She didn’t tremble, she didn’t fight, she just froze. Your anger vanished, and slowly you melted into a fake smile. Your thumb hovered over her bottom lip, and you brought her closer to yourself, until you both could feel each others’ breaths.

“You’re my servant, Marie. I don’t keep fools around me, do I?” You then let go off her, making her lose her balance for a second, but she quickly gathered herself and bowed her head in submission, “Now, speak.” She rose her gaze, and you encouraged her once again with a raised brow.

“I believe for there to be two options.” Marie began her speech, and took your feet out the tub to place them on her thighs and wipe them dry, “You get rid of Master Diluc and send Mistress Donna back to Mondstat. Nobody would believe her that it was you who hurt Master Diluc, but even if they would, a single mention of his crimes across the world and that it was all done in self-defense would guarantee your innocence.”

She was finally done taking care of you, and proceeded to reach for freshly the ironed socks by her side.

“And second?”

“You get rid of Mistress Donna, and make Master Diluc fall into the deepest depths of despair, so that he won’t have anyone else to turn to for comfort — but you.” Marie buckled up your shoes, and stood up, instantly straightening her back, “The choice lies in whether you prefer to execute quick revenge and forget, or, to keep a hold of your revenge until your last breath.”

You laughed at her words.

“Do you believe for revenge to be a waste of time?”

“Many people who consider themselves above others would say that, but I solely believe that your decision is absolute, my Master. I believe a yearn for revenge made you into a person who you are today, and Master..” Marie locked her hands together by her chest, “You are an entity beyond my comprehension.”

“You flatter me, Marie.”

Looking at her, you saw emotions which Diluc had never expressed towards you. Yes, he loved you. But young love comes and goes. Meanwhile every single one of your servants in this house, were undoubtedly loyal to you. There was no hesitation that every single maid, butler, cook, and even the recently hired doctor would die for you. Kill for you. Live for you.

Diluc was never any of those things.

“I think I made my decision.”

You’ve made that decision long time ago, and there was no reason to back out on it now. Even if Diluc would put you in the casket, you would crawl out with a knife in your hand to continue to haunt him. You weren’t sure where this obsession was coming from. Perhaps it was boredom. Maybe, you were just that evil and prideful. Or even..

It was just fun.

Donna decided to finally leave Master Y/N house and go for a walk. They have been living in the mansion for a month now, and each day was worse than the previous one. She tried to make it work. She followed all lessons which you signed her up for, she learned the etiquette, she put herself on a diet, did her hair to the best of her ability, but one thing for sure — each day was more miserable than the other.

The moment that the sun would rise, she would feel the dread wash over her. Even when you weren’t at the mansion your spirit and your presence were felt everywhere. Your mere gaze was driving her insane, even giving her nightmares. She had a dream, where you were smirking at her with a maniacal glare in your eyes whilst holding a blade to her throat. Then, there were visions of you poisoning her, assassinating her, or hanging her off the ceiling.

Donna’s thoughts were getting darker and darker. From a light and careless girl, she has become something else entirely.

Perhaps, being with Diluc was the biggest mistake of her life.

As she finally stepped through the gates of Mondstat — the whispers began. Nobody in this city knew what you were truly like. How terrifying, how cruel, how manipulative. They all saw you from the best angle, meanwhile, Donna was seen from her worst.

“Homewrecker..”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

“To get together with a married man, no shame at all!”

“How can she even bear to come back here..”

Even though they were mere whispers, their voices seemed to be louder than her own thoughts. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself away from shedding tears. Her life had become so terrible. Although she was outside, it felt like the curtains were still drawn. She couldn’t see the sunlight as bright as it used to be. A part of her was still locked away in that mansion — forever caged.

She felt her heart rase, her breathing picking up — she was panicking. There were so many people, and they all hated her. Yes, she did a bad thing, but did she really deserve all of this? Were her good deeds before this now completely forgotten? Where did all of her friends go when she needed them the most?

She had no one.

She was so alone.

“Is Sister Barbara around?” Donna asked as she had finally reached the church. Her feet felt sore, and the base of her spine was aching.

“One second.” One of the nuns had ran off to get her. As Donna waited she took a seat and looked around the church. Perhaps, she should beg, no, plead Barbados for His guidance. For His help. For His involvement.

“She’s here.”

“Donna! I haven’t seen you in a while.” If there were someone who hadn’t changed their attitude towards her — it was all the nuns, especially Sister Barbara. Maybe she was just very good at hiding her real thoughts, but Donna preferred to indulge herself in a more positive light.

“Hi, Sister Barbara.” The brunette murmured shyly, “I sent you a letter a week ago..” She reminded the other, and at first Barbara seemed confused, until she remembered.

“Ah, yes, yes!” The young girl continuously nodded her head, “Let’s head to a more private room.” She gestured for Donna to follow her out the church, and into the next building.

Barbara wasn’t the only doctor in Mondstat, in fact, she wasn’t even an actual licensed professional how Sebastian was. However, people with healing hydro abilities were granted permission to accept patients and examine them if required. Donna didn’t trust Sebastian, so, she sent a letter ahead explaining her symptoms to the blonde girl and arranged time and date of their meeting.

Barbara made the woman lay down on the examination table, as she checked what worried her most. She applied pressure on different parts of her body, especially her stomach. Then, a frown covered her face and she spread out her palms across Donna’s stomach — hydro particles suddenly formed in the air and circled around each one of her fingers — until they had vanished. It seemed that the blonde had come to her conclusion, but was hesitating to speak.

“Donna..”

“What? What is it?” The brunette was already imaging the worst. Was she dying? She must be dying! “What’s wrong with me?” The longer she wasn’t hearing an answer, the more panicked she got.

“You’ve had a miscarriage.”

What.

“I.. I was pregnant?” Donna stared, and Barbara nodded, “What do you mean I had a miscarriage?” She breathed out a pained laugh, “I didn’t bleed or anything.. I..” And then — it hit her. She understood what happened. You didn’t poison her that day. Your intent wasn’t her assassination, but rather.. “N-no way..”

She was drowning.

Her lungs were getting filled with the sea of sorrow.

“NOOOOOooooOOoOOOooOOooo!” A howling, blood-curdling cry was heard echoing through the halls of the hospital. Her tears were running down her cheeks like a river, and Barbara’s comforting embrace felt like the last hold on her humanity.

That day Donna hadn’t just lost her past, but she also lost her future.

Donna came back home only a week later. She might have not even known her child, but the grief was weighting down at her heart. She always wanted to be a mother, and from a young age she was told to be infertile. She never said anything to Diluc about it, because the topic was never brought up. But now, she was finding out that her miracle baby was forcefully taken out of her. She felt violated, torn, and broken. Every part of her soul had shattered like glass with pieces scattered so far apart that they’ll never be fixed back together.

“Donna.. Finally.”

Diluc was hugging her, but she couldn’t even feel it. Her body just froze, meanwhile, her gaze and mind were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about her lost child. Was it a girl, a boy, or twins? Were they going to have her brown her or their father’s crimson locks? What about their eyes, their height, their smiles? Were they going to grow up to be strong and powerful, or would they prefer a more standard and quiet life? Why did this happen to her? Why wasn’t she given a chance?

If only you had asked her to decide between her child and Diluc, she would have chosen her child in a heartbeat.

“Where have you been?” The man whispered into her ear, and she felt his tears falling onto her shoulder and soaking through her shirt. She hadn’t cried since that day. She hadn’t even said a word. Her whole world was stuck in that one moment, unable to move on, “What happened to you, my beautiful?” Diluc was playing with the locks of her hair, just how he used to.

He hadn’t changed, but she was now a different person. She was in grief. He was in despair.

“Can we kill them?”

Diluc instantly pulled away, and stared at Donna’s empty eyes. He blinked once, twice, but still couldn’t believe his ears.

“K-kill who?”

“Master Y/N. I want to take their life.“

FINAL CHAPTER !

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just-jordie-things · 1 year

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love, death, and curses - toge inumaki

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, gore, stabbing summary: near death experiences make people confess the funniest things ___

A simple assignment. It’s always the simple assignments that go horribly wrong, isn’t it? It must be some sick joke. Why couldn’t things just go right for once? A break would be nice… but there were no breaks in this line of work.

“Fuck!”

(y/n) dropped herself to the ground before the four-eyed curse throwing itself at her could actually hit her. With no time to catch her breath, she threw herself back, pulled the ring knife out of the holster on her thigh, and even with her hazy sight she was able to fling the small weapon into it’s skull.

Nope, no breaks. Just knives and evil spirits.

“Tuna!”

Toge’s worried voice carried from some twenty feet away, or wherever he was taking on more grade threes’ than he probably should have, but even as (y/n) tried to make her way to help him, it just seemed more spirits were spawning.

“I’m fine!” She hollered back.

With a kick to the curse’s disappearing body, it rolled over and she was able to retrieve her knife. Just in the knick of time as three more curses approached.

This wasn’t looking good.

And things had been so nice this morning. ___

~ earlier that day ~

“Mustard leaf”

Finger stalling on the line in the book she was reading, (y/n) glanced behind her, a smile blossoming on her face as her favorite cursed speech user approached.

She’d been studying in the common room all morning, and it was about time some better entertainment rolled around. And with a cute language and cuter face, here it was.

“Hey,” She greeted him back, and moved over on the couch so there was room for him to sit. “You here to save me from my studying?”

From the crinkles around his eyes, she knew he was grinning as he plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Salmon” He chuckled to himself.

Truth was, he’d been working himself up all morning trying to find a way to ask (y/n) out, to a movie or dinner or anything she wanted to do at all. He’s been trying to do it for a while, but it’s hard when you can’t exactly just say the words.

(That was kind of a copout, there was always writing on the post-its he kept in his pocket, or taking her hand and staring deep into her eyes, but he wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to these things, and he really wanted to sweep her off her feet)

So now here he was, blushing like crazy under his collar, his hands fidgeting together, with about fifteen crumpled up post-its in his jacket pocket with everything he’d had prepared for this moment.

And this was the moment. He’d decided. He didn’t want to put it off any longer, and he’d told himself all morning that no matter what, he was going to ask her out!

(Panda was a big help too, but he was trying to not think about him right now)

“You alright?” (y/n) asked, drawing Toge out of his scrambling brain.

His brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re just quieter than usual,” She explained, laughing a bit. “Usually you’re talking my ear off. Remember at the market, that lady thought you were yelling at me about how to make rice balls?”

She laughs more at the memory, and it was a funny one, but Toge can only bring himself to force out a few chuckles.

“So what is it then?” She asks, closing her textbook and tossing it onto the coffee table so that he could have her attention.

Admittedly, he’d already had her attention as soon as he’d walked into the room. He always did. It didn’t matter what was in front of her, if Toge appeared, she was a goner.

(One time she was waxing Maki’s eyebrows when Toge appeared. Maki still hasn’t forgiven her for taking half of the left one. Even after it grew back)

He shakes his head, mumbling a ‘salmon’, which (y/n) assumes was meant to assure her he was alright, but it wasn’t all that convincing.

“Toge…” (y/n) said softly, turning her body sideways on the cushion to give him more of her attention. “I think I know what this is about…”

His eyes go wide.

Did she? Was he so transparent? Had he been embarrassing himself this whole time?

“Yuuta hasn’t written in a while,” She sighed.

Oh. Right. That guy.

(Yuuta was one of Toge’s closest friends, but he hadn’t been anywhere close to present in his mind currently)

“I miss him too. But he’s probably just busy, it’s a pretty serious assignment you know,”

Toge’s frozen for a moment, processing her assumption. Unfortunately, (y/n) took his silence for sadness, and she continued on.

“I know that he thinks about us all the time though,” She said cheerfully, before shoving her elbow into his side. “But who wouldn’t, right?”

The teasing is friendly, and normally he’d laugh and joke along happily. But his nerves are eating him up inside and he feels really hot- was it hot in here? The common room was known for having a busted ac unit that always had a breeze in the room, and now here he was sweating.

“He’ll write soon enough. Probably with some crazy story. It’s always something weird with him” (y/n) says. She’s so reassuring and kind. If only this was advice he was actually looking for.

With a small, defeated sigh, Toge nods his head.

And not too long after, Gojo bursts into the room, excited to have found the pair, and claiming he had a quick assignment for them. Leaving no good time for asking someone on a date, Toge mentally cursed his sensei for his notorious bad timing. ___

~ present ~

Things weren’t getting any easier, and (y/n) was starting to think Fushiguro was onto something for being so cranky about Gojo’s nonchalant attitude, because in no way was this assignment simple.

I’m gonna give that man a piece of my mind if I make it out of this alive.

Ring daggers could only be so good of a weapon. Right now a sword would be more practical, like Yuuta’s katana. Or better hand to hand skills, like Maki. Hell, being a 6’7 bear would be more of a help than what she had on hand.

And she loved her ring daggers, she trained with them relentlessly. But one of the four she had on her was already gone, disappeared with a curse carcass that disintegrated faster than expected. She’d have to get better used to another weapon, because this was just getting frustrating.

Another knife flew through the air with such speed she was certain it’d hit her target.

But the particular four eyed- curse’s head she’d aimed for swerved, and the dagger whizzed right past it, before clattering to the ground, far out of reach.

(y/n) grimaced. No way some grade two curse was able to dodge a swift attack like that.

This was no grade two.

Realization dawned on her, eyes widening as she quickly glanced around her, noticing how all the other curses they’d been fighting seemed to form a circle around this one.

They were protecting it? Hive mind? On their own accord?

Her train of thought ran a million miles a minute trying to find the answer to this behavior, but as quickly as she was trying to solve this odd mystery, she heard a yelp of surprise, and the sound of Toge’s struggle destroyed her worry about anything else but him.

“Toge!” She screeched, watching him get thrown back a few feet. His landing wasn’t all that graceful, but he pushed himself back up to his feet without too much struggle.

“Salmon!” He hollered back before even catching his breath.

He couldn’t have (y/n) looking over her shoulder for him. There were too many of these damn things, and she needed to focus on herself, not him.

“Look!” (y/n) called to him, pointing to the odd curse that had dodged her knife. “I think that one’s in charge or something!”

Violet eyes follow her gesture, and just as quickly as she had, he notices the strange pattern in which most of the curses surround the one. He nods back at her, understanding what she was telling him.

Well, at least he thought he understood. He didn’t think she’d charge after the damn thing to take it on herself.

And yet before he could blink, she was grabbing her last two daggers out of their sheaths, and breaking into a sprint towards the curse without a second longer of hesitation.

He caught himself before he could call after her to wait. However, just as he was about to make his way over to help her, it seemed a horde of the four-eyed nuisances were crowding before him.

He allowed himself a mutter of curses under his breath before unzipping his collar to take care of them.

Meanwhile (y/n) was confidently approaching the little ringleader. At this point, she was taking this thing down no matter what it took.

It was agile, and able to elude more of her attacks than any grade two could. In fact, she had her assumptions that it could have been a grade one, if it were this strong and also powerful enough to gather other curses to protect it.

And after a tiring bout of slashing towards it only for it to duck and dodge, she was starting to think that it was mocking her. And this made her agitated.

And angry.

She’d trained for many years to perfect the craft of exorcizing curses. Sure, there were always new things to learn, but she considered herself pretty damn good at what she did, because she stuck to a few simple rules.

And her number one rule was to stay sharp. The better an eye is at inspecting an environment, the less likely a surprise can happen. So emotions like fear and anger were red flags.

So she should have seen it coming.

But in an instant, the knife she had gripped in hand and plummeting towards the space between all four of the curse’s eyes, was swiped right out from her hold.

With one hand the curse had taken her wrist, halting her attack. Then it took advantage of her shock to steal her weapon.

After that, everything seemed to blur together.

A really sharp pain in her abdomen.

That hurt.

Warmth, then heat, pooling over her skin.

Wet?

Blood?

Almost in slow motion, she looked down.

Her own knife. In the hand of a curse. Buried in her guts.

It seemed surreal, in the most horrific way possible. In what world she thought her death would come from her own negligence- her own weapon damn it! Her anger was only set aflame. With self preservation and fury colliding in her bones, she found herself acting without thought.

As Toge was trying to fight through the raw pain in his sore throat, he was contemplating a bit of hand to hand until he could spare a second to chug down his medicine and obliterate what was left of the curses. He didn’t want to risk rushing it and losing what little medicine he had left.

The answer came to him before he could do anything, and right before his eyes, the curses he’d been fighting off started to disappear.

At first he was on guard, surprised, confused. But as the area around him began to clear and he saw the curse (y/n) had been fighting with was crumpled to the ground, a knife in the middle of it’s face, it clicked.

He chugged down the rest of his medicine before jogging over to her.

It’s over.

(y/n) fought to keep her eyes open, and to keep her hand covering the wound in her abdomen. At least the fabric of her shirt was black, so the blood wasn’t so visible.

“Mustard leaf!”

Fighting to keep her vision straight, (y/n) could barely make out the double Toge heading towards her.

Toge.

“Mustard leaf!” He called out again when she hadn’t responded, worried she’d hit her head or something.

He can’t know.

She pressed her palm harder into her stomach, biting down on her cheek to keep from groaning aloud.

As Toge approached, he was clapping, cheering for her.

He was so sweet.

“Salmon roe!”

He was grinning from ear to ear, she could just barely make it out, but it made her feel warm that he was so proud of her.

Or maybe that was all the blood spilling over her hand.

She stumbled forward towards him, and he abandoned his excitement and was reaching out to steady her instantly.

With furrowed brows he waited for her to explain, to tell him what hurt, or to tell him she’d be okay. But she didn’t say anything.

In fact, she could barely keep eye contact with him, her gaze kept shifting around, as though she didn’t have control over it.

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, concerned, his eyes flickering between hers, hoping to catch her attention.

“I-” Her voice got caught in her throat, and she coughed to try to cover for herself, but from what she could make out from Toge’s expression, she wasn’t doing well. “I’m f-fine, I’m okay” She forced the words out with as little a stammer as possible.

Toge wasn’t believing it.

“Bonito flakes”

His voice was harsh. He was upset.

Normally (y/n) was comfortable voicing when she had an injury. They both were. They always reassured each other they were okay after missions. Especially particularly difficult ones. So for her to be blatantly lying irked him.

But without the ability to say anything else, all he could do was glare and grumble while he pulled out his phone to get Ijichi the ‘ready for pickup’ text.

The haze in (y/n’s) was turning to dark. Like black clouds.

I’m going to die.

She blinked a few times, trying to focus her vision well enough to keep herself upright at least.

Am I swaying? I feel like I’m not standing upright.

That awful slow-motion feeling came back as she lowered her head to focus on her feet, just to make sure they were both planted on the ground.

Before she could even notice her feet, her eyes landed on her blood covered hand, and suddenly a wave of nausea hit her.

“T-Toge,” She stuttered out, clutching her hand tighter to her stomach, and forcing herself to look up at him. “I-I’m sorry,”

Her voice broke into a whimper, effectively washing away any annoyance Toge had been feeling, and now he was worried immensely.

He shook his head in confusion, silently asking her what was going on.

“I…” She trailed off, her head going light. “I can barely keep my eyes open”

She was losing feeling in her legs completely now.

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, reaching his hands out to her shoulders, steadying the slight swaying she was starting to do.

And then she stumbled forward, falling almost completely against him.

“Mustard leaf!?” He asked a little louder, hoping she would be able to tell him what was going on.

But as he secured his arms around her, he felt something on his hand.

Something warm.

And wet.

No.

“Mustard leaf?”

That time, the question came out a lot smaller. Quieter.

Shakily, he brought his hand out, confirming his fear when he saw the blood.

“It’s- it’s okay,” (y/n) stammered, lifting her heavy head from his shoulder.

But Toge was already looking her over for the source of the blood.

“It’s just a little scratch-”

“Bonito flakes!”

Prying her hand away from her abdomen, it was like he was living a nightmare.

Her hand was stained in red, and from the looks of the hole in her shirt, this wasn’t even a scratch.

He wants to scold her, cuss her out for hiding an injury like this from him. He wants to comfort her, tell her she’ll be okay and he’d take care of her now and do whatever was needed to fix her up.

Even if he was able to speak, he wouldn’t have been able to. His throat closed up and hot tears rose to his eyes so fast, anything that came out would have been a stuttered, blubbering mess.

“I didn’t-” (y/n) coughed, and he tried his best to wipe the blood from her lips, but she swatted his hand away. “Listen,”

Her half-lidded eyes met his, and she hoped he’d just shut up so she could say what she needed to. She didn’t know when she’d pass out, but she knew it was coming.

“I… I j-just didn’t want t-to h-hurt you,” Her words are a bit slur and she can’t fight that stutter very well but he catches on to every word. “I’m s-sorry,”

He shakes his head.

Don’t be sorry, he means, and he hopes she understands.

“I’m so, so sorry,” (y/n) repeats, her voice growing weaker, softer.

She grows a little heavier in his hold, and carefully, he lowers them, hoping to help save her energy. He’s torn between holding her tightly, in an iron grip where nothing could ever hurt her again- or barely touching her, she was too delicate right now, he couldn’t bear to cause her any more pain.

As he cradles her in his lap with one arm, his other hand putting as much pressure on her wound as he could manage, he’s feverishly looking around, cursing silently that Ijichi’s car hasn’t rolled up yet.

What part of ‘EMERGENCY (Y/N) GOT HURT AND NEEDS SHOKO NOW’ wasn’t understood? He should have been here seconds after that text was delivered.

Glancing back down at (y/n), the situation wasn’t looking good.

Her eyes had fallen closed, her head lolled against his arm weakly, and the pants coming from her mouth grew fainter. His panic was worsening.

How could this happen? How could he let this happen? He was a terrible partner, and friend. He was never going to forgive himself for this.

He patted her cheek gently, trying to stir her into consciousness for just a little longer.

(y/n) whimpered, her eyelids fluttering briefly, but she refused to open them.

If only he could say something, beg her to stay awake for just a minute longer. Ijichi would be here soon-

“Toge,”

It was a mumble, but it was something.

He smoothed his trembling hand over her cheek, staring at her intently, and impatiently.

“You sh-should know,” She continued.

It took a tremendous effort to roll her head so she could look up at him.

If I’m going to die, I might as well suck it up and tell him I love him.

A shiver ran through her body, and Toge scrambled to get his jacket off, draping it over top of her, making sure to tuck the fabric around her shoulders so she was as comfortable as could be.

Even in her declining state of mind, she noticed a few things.

First, his collar was off. Usually whenever he wasn’t wearing his face covering, she couldn’t help but smile and blush like a little girl with a crush. He had the most handsome face, she simply had to admire him for his beauty.

Second, his hands were trembling incredibly hard. She could see it as he tucked her into his coat, and she could feel it as well. He was scared for her life. Hell, she was too, but seeing him become this much of a wreck was starting to make this all too real for her.

And third, her pain was starting to go away. At first she was relieved, but she’s realized now that it’s been replaced with a numbness, across her entire body. That wasn’t a good sign.

I can’t possibly tell him how I feel, and then die in his arms. It wouldn’t be right.

So instead, she just stared at him. His violet eyes were so round, and filled with fear. She wished that she had the words to actually comfort her, but she knew that there was nothing she could say that he would believe.

He shakes his head a little, his brows furrowing even deeper. She knows that if he could speak he would be telling her to spit it out already.

“You’re beautiful,” She murmurs.

The knot in his brow softened into a more confused look, and it only made her smile.

Oh no. She’s smiling. This can’t be good.

“You’re the m-most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” She goes on, her murmurs turning into lovesick babbles. “I n-never told you… I was too nervous I g-guess. But I should have told you,”

He starts to shake his head again, but her small smile only blossoms into a toothy grin. It would be off putting with the blood stained on her lips, but he has to admit even now, something in him just melts.

“You’re my favorite person, okay?”

It takes everything she has to keep her eyes open, to stare at him and try to convey every last feeling she has towards him.

For a moment he just stares back at her, his mouth moving a bit but no words were coming out.

And then slowly, he nods his head at her.

He wants to keep fighting, to keep smacking her until her eyes stay open, to keep shaking his head at her because he can’t scream for her to just please stay awake.

It’s dawning on him now, how quickly time is ticking, and the last thing either of them need is more panic.

So he tries to calm himself, for her sake.

But her eyes are closing again, and he can see the rise and fall in her chest is slowing, until it’s barely moving at all.

By the time the car pulls up and Ijichi is hopping out and running over to them, Toge hadn’t gotten her to open her eyes once. ___

Fuck it was bright.

(y/n) winced as she slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to get used to the blinding white shining on her. With a groan she raised her hand to her face, rubbing her already strained eyes.

“Oh, you’re up earlier than I thought”

Dragging her palm down her face, (y/n) squinted to see Shoko smiling down at her, clipboard in hand.

“I’m not dead?”

“Not this time,” The doctor jests, smirking to herself. “Gave us a scare though. Especially Inumaki”

Toge.

“Where is-?”

“I’ll let him know you’re up in a minute, don’t worry. First, can you tell me what all you remember?”

“Yeah, I got stabbed with my own knife. Then I almost died. And now I’m alive and embarrassed and I will never hear the end of it. Actually… could you do me a favor-?”

“I’m not killing you. Sorry, kid”

“Shit”

Shoko chuckled to herself.

“I guess I can check off alert and snarky,” She teases, before setting her board down. “Any pain? Nausea?”

“Just absolute delight to be here” (y/n) teases back.

Shoko’s smiling, which is a bit of a rare sight, but (y/n’s) more familiar with it than her peers.

“As always,” Shoko hums. “Well, let me find your boyfriend. Try not to strain yourself before then, alright?”

“No promises” (y/n) muttered back.

With that, the doctor was strutting out of the room. From the way the left side of her lab coat sagged a little heavier than the right, she figured she had some extra time to herself. Ten minutes if she smoked alone, twenty five if Gojo happened to catch up with her.

Settling back into her cot, she shut her eyes and sighed.

I should have asked her to shut the lights off before she left.

She sat up again, trying to find something to put over her eyes to keep the LED’s from piercing right through her eyelids. Unfortunately the thin cotton blanket she had wasn’t large enough to cover her head to toe, and she wasn’t ready to give up her pillow- the only comfortable thing about this dumb cot- so that left her back at square one.

It was then that she realized she was wearing an extra layer. Puzzled, she inspected the jacket that clearly wasn’t hers.

Did Shoko give her this when she showed up?

Curiously, she dipped her hands into the pockets. She wasn’t sure what drove her to do such a thing, but sure enough she found something.

Post-its. A bunch of folded and crumpled post-its.

Oh, this is Toge’s jacket!

She felt her face get warm as she smiled, and piled them up in her lap. These must have been all the notes he wrote to better communicate with people throughout his day.

But after unfolding the first one, she wasn’t so sure what these notes were. Scribbled there in Toge’s distinct handwriting, was without a doubt a love note.

You’re so beautiful no matter what you wear or do with your hair. It’s mostly because of your personality, but your eyes take some of the blame too.

She had to admit, she was pretty shocked. She didn’t think Toge was the type to have a romantic side, but clearly he’s got a knack for it.

Now all that was left to figure out was who these little love notes were meant to be delivered to.

And hell, there was no other entertainment in this boring, bright room. So why not indulge in a little snooping?

Eagerly, she uncrumpled the next one.

I’m sorry I can’t speak well to you, but I’m glad I can still laugh, because you make me laugh every time I’m with you. And sometimes you’re funny too! :)

(y/n) snorted before rolling her eyes. Alright, he must have had some help from Panda. She reached for the next note.

You tell me all the time how brave I am and now here I am pouring it all out there. I wish I could tell you myself instead of writing all these notes.

A few of the notes didn’t even have words, just doodles, but they were just as cute. She especially loved the one of two turtles holding hands. Well, stubs. He drew their little stubs touching with a heart over them.

It wasn’t meant for her, but she decided she’d have to steal that one for herself. It was just too cute.

“Tuna!”

Dropping the post-its, (y/n’s) head shot up to the doorway where her visitor was standing. She looked like a deer caught in headlights- which she was, he’d literally just caught her reading through his private notes.

“Toge!” She squeaked, embarrassed, but there was still a smile on her face, eager to see him as always.

She can’t see it because he has his collar zipped up, but his face was red with bashfulness.

How many of those notes had she read? Did she know they were for her? Dummy! Of course she did! It was so obvious! Idiot! Why did I even keep those in there when I gave her that jacket!?

“I’m so glad you’re here” She told him, beckoning him to come into the room.

Some of his nerves were settled as he took a few steps closer. Maybe she hadn’t put together that the notes were for her?

“Mustard leaf?” He asked, gesturing to her stomach, which she kept covered with her blanket.

“Oh, it’s fine,” (y/n) shrugged a shoulder.

After finding the notes, she’d kind of forgotten about it actually. Surely once her pain meds wore off she’d be irritable and reliving the worst pain she’s ever felt in her whole life- but for now she didn’t care, and she’d rather focus on something more enticing.

And nothing was more enticing than love notes to a mystery person.

“Tell me about these!” She told him, excitedly holding up the few notes that she’d read.

Toge’s eyes widened for a moment, before he decidedly shook his head back and forth.

(y/n) frowned.

“Bonito flakes” Toge explained to the best of his ability, pointing again to her blanket.

“Really, it’s fine, I can’t feel a thing right now,” (y/n) said nonchalantly. “I’d rather just be normal? Please?” She gave him her best puppy dog eyes and held the notes up to him.

Toge sighed, staring back at her, giving up on trying to voice his concerns. When all he could voice were rice ball ingredients, it was hard to be convincing sometimes.

But even giving her the deadest eyes he could manage wasn’t working. And he was no match for puppy dog eyes.

(It was truly a weakness- and not just (y/n). If anyone gave him that face, odds were he was caving in on whatever ridiculous thing they were requesting. Panda abused this knowledge frequently)

He groaned and rolled his eyes, making (y/n) grin and cheer.

“Ok so tell me! Who are these for? Do they go here??”

She shuffles to sit upright on her cot, making Toge panic momentarily, because no way should she be moving this much after she was just stabbed. She was still healing damnit!

He reaches his hands out, shaking his head as he grabs her shoulders to keep her in place, but she swats his hands away.

“Relax, just sit” She demands, patting the open space she’s made for him.

Toge glares at her.

“Bonito flakes”

“Stop saying that and just sit,” (y/n) requests again. “Or I’ll walk out of this room and find Panda and make him tell me who these are-”

His groan is louder this time, more annoyed, before he shoves his finger in her face.

(y/n’s) brows knit together.

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes.

His finger points rather aggressively to the notes in her lap, before pointing at her again.

How much clearer could he be? Was he going to have to spell it out for her?

“Yeah… I found them in your pockets-”

Toge smacked his hand to his head.

Man, he loved her. But this was a whole different level of cluelessness.

He’d have to find another way to tell her. So he went sifting through the mess of post-its. Surely there’d be a note in there that explained his feelings to her.

(y/n) watched him curiously, not quite sure what he was doing, but she had to admit she was a little entertained by his annoyed scrambling. It was cute to get him worked up, and he didn’t do it often, so it was also a treat.

Finally, he produced the perfect note, and handed it to her. (y/n) raised a brow at him before she took it.

This note wasn’t like the others. It was a direct question, clearly meant to be used to communicate with, not just a cute message or doodle.

(y/n), I’ve liked you for a really long time, and you’re a great friend. But I think we would be great as something more. Would you want to go on a date with me?

Her eyes widened as she re-read the note a few times, scanning it as if it were going to say something else after ten more reads. But sure enough, it had her name, and he was asking her out.

He was asking her out!!

“Oh my god,” She mumbled, mostly to herself but Toge heard it anyway. “I’m an idiot,”

Glancing up at him, she caught his nodding, and smacked his arm.

“But you’re a bigger idiot!” She chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged his shoulders. There were few instances where he was lucky to not have to explain himself.

Like right now, he didn’t have to sit here and tell her he was too scared of rejection to tell her how he really felt about her. That would be humiliating. Instead, he gets to stand there and just smile at her.

“Well, you’re in luck. I like you too,” (y/n) replies, giving him a smile. “I didn’t know that you felt this way,”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“So romantic,” She chuckles, rolling her eyes at him. “So what kind of date do you have planned?”

He reaches for one of the post-its, flipping it over and grabbing one of Shoko’s pens. (y/n) waits while he quickly scribbles on the paper.

Movie?

(y/n) grins as she reads it, nodding her head in agreement.

“How about dinner too?” She asks, her cheeks starting to tinge with pink.

Toge nods excitedly.

“Okay, perfect. It’s a date then,” (y/n) grins back. The elation of this moment was definitely going to last until her pain wore off. “You know it’s funny, I was actually going to confess last night,”

Toge rose a brow, before whistling, making her giggle.

“Oh shut up. I only didn’t because… you know. If I had…”

Finally, Toge perches himself on the side of the cot beside her. He unzips his collar before reaching out to take hold of her hand. (y/n) smiles softly at the sweet gesture. She admired him very much for the way he was able to convey exactly what he wanted to say.

“I just didn’t want to drop a bomb on you and then… die. It didn’t seem right, and I wanted the right time to tell you, you know that I… I love you”

His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. Brows raised and mouth slightly parted. He was shocked. (y/n’s) pink cheeks deepened to a bright red, and she could feel the heat spreading to her neck as well.

All at once, it hits Toge, and his hands sprung to action.

You love me? He signs.

“Well, yeah,” She answers. “I was trying not to die in front of you, doesn’t that make it kind of obvious?”

He shakes his head at her, a smile beginning to break out across his face.

He holds his hand up, sticking out his thumb, index finger, and pinky.

(y/n) may have been a bit rusty when it came to sign language, but she knew what that one meant.

She reached out, taking his hand and tugging gently, prompting him to lean closer.

Brows furrowed, Toge followed the silent command, turning his head with the expectation that she was going to say something softly in his ear.

With a hum, (y/n’s) free hand finds his cheek, directing him to face her again, before guiding him down closer so that she could plant her lips on his.

For a moment, he hesitates. His eyes go wide and it feels like his whole body is frozen. He wonders briefly if this is what his opponents felt when he used his cursed speech to stop them in place.

It’s like all time as he knows it comes to a halt.

And then, slowly but surely, he melts into the sensation.

Her lips, soft and sweet like the chapstick Shoko always keeps around, were warm, and familiar. As though he’d kissed them countless times before. His hands find their natural place at her jaw, keeping her in place so he can be sure to kiss her again and again.

The feeling of the corners of her mouth tilting upwards was sensational, and Toge finds himself smiling into the kiss as well. The pair silently acknowledged that now was as good a time as any to finally come together.

When time starts again and works against them, forcing them to break apart for air, their smiles were ever so present. Paired with pink cheeks and shy eyes that could barely maintain contact.

“I’m going to have to learn sign language for kiss me, huh?” (y/n) teases quietly.

Toge beams, before happily showing her the motion. He brings his fingers to his thumb, then traced his mouth to his cheekbone. The phrase is finished with pointing to himself.

“Well, if you insist” (y/n) giggles, before yanking on him again so she can reach him once more.

Their laughter is interrupted as their lips meet once more, and this time Toge thinks he might never come back up for air. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge imagine #inumaki toge scenario #toge x reader #toge imagine #toge scenario #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki imagine #toge inumaki scenario

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booquip · 1 month

Text

Firstly I wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on my first post! I enjoyed writing it a lot and hope you all had a fun time reading it! I hope you all enjoy this one just the same! ☺️☺️ Not going to lie I really struggled to incorporate two head cannons I had into a one shot fic, so apologies if the writing is super mangled. ): As always feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated!! (I haven’t caught up with JJK in a minute so sorry if my memory is hazy causing me to use incorrect info.)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!Reader x Geto Suguru

Summary: Satoru seeing you before him and Suguru leave for a mission. (written from multiple POV's) ( I like to think that along with Satoru's lack of spacial awareness he lacks emotional awareness when it comes to himself while Suguru is like okay I feel this way now wtf do I do, which both of them can bond on once Suguru helps Satoru realize he’s not dying and that he is in fact in love with reader.)

word count: 1,149

“Gojo-san!” You say with that airy smile you always have. You go on even more missions than them yet how do you always manage to have a smile on your face? You run up to him still all smiles and giggles. Why is it that you’re always running? And why did you look so beautiful running towards him? Your hair was flowing heedlessly down your shoulders as you came to a stop. Both of you sitting on the grass as he rests his head in your lap. (It became routine ever since he had spotted you one day reading a book lying on the grass mindlessly munching on whatever snack it was that you were eating that day.)

He looks up only to be met with those encapsulating doe eyes of yours. Many would argue that his eyes were the ones full of prowess but how could that be true when one look from your glistening eyes had him falling to his knees. He was having the worst of worst days about…wait what was it about again?

Ha- See what he means?

“Ahh Gojo-san are you listening?” Your voice jolts him out of his spiral. How long had you been speaking for? He scratches the back of his neck letting out a light laugh. Your face mere inches away from his. The words had come out of his mouth before he had time to stop them.

“You have pretty eyes Y/N.”

He feels heat rush to his face as the words pored out of him.

You feel as if the world around you both has been silenced. No not silenced you think, it’s almost like it has decided that just the two of you are allowed to bask in its beauty. You slowly blink at the notion of his words, beginning to come back to your senses. Has he gone mad? The Satoru Gojo, complimenting the likes of you. You wanted to hear it more, hear him more. He probably—no he deffinetly didn’t mean it like that. Gojo-san is known for his outbursts and this was just one of them. You make attempts to ease the fast paced thoughts. If there truly was no meaning behind his words, why did his voice sound so sultry so—

“hahaaha jeez Y/N you take everything so seriously.”

You notice him hide his face in his hands and you think it’s just to mask his laughter so you dismiss his words all together.

“Ah my apologies Gojo-san didn’t you have a mission to attend to with Geto-san?”

Why did you ignore his comment? He knew he dismissed it first. He knew it was unwarranted but still— did you just not take it, take him, seriously— why is he so angry right now? Why does he feel as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest? Why does he feel dejected? Why? Why? Why?

The furrow in his brows is uncommon to you and before you can question it, you feel a hand gently graze the top of your hair. You look up to see the one and only Suguru covering the glaring sun from your field of view as you peered up to look at him. "Ah Geto-san, hello!"

Satoru's voice is whiney while he speaks his distaste for the mission. “Ugghhh do I really have to go? I would much rather stay here.” Suguru sighs in contrast to Satoru it's almost foreign to hear him complain. “Yes, Satoru we unfortunately do also the auxiliary manager is going to get mad if we don’t show up soon.” Oh that's when you’re reminded you almost forgot the main reason you approached Gojo-san in the first place.

“Geto-san before you leave take these!” As you pull out the coffee-caramel flavored hard candies from your pocket and into his hand, he looks at you with the most quizzical expression.

“You don’t like the taste of curses, do you?”

He looks at you wide eyed, you take that as a sign to continue.

“I know these won’t change the taste also that your not much of a fan for sweets hence the coffee flavor, but I hope that it makes you forget even if it’s just for a little while. Please eat them after your missions! I hope you find them useful!” Your explanation (that wasn't really an explanation) still has him stunned. You had only went on one mission with them. Was he that terrible at masking it? No he was sure he did well as Satoru never questioned him for it.

For an airhead you sure are observant.

And that's when it hit him the realization crashing down on him all at once. How could he not have seen it sooner? The way he would smile at the mere thought of getting to see you in class. The way his cheeks would heat up whenever it was just the two of you alone. The way he would always go out of his way to make you smile. Oh your breathtaking smile. It was contagious, motivating others on the most depressing of days. He could internally beat him self up right now for being so dumb.

He was in love with you.

And with the way his best friend looked at you he was sure that he felt the same way too.

He's pulled out of his trance when he hears you about to apologize. “I’m sor-"

“Thank you Y/N.”

He says with a smile so sincere, it's then and only then you finally understand why people would go to the end's of the earth for their loved ones. You would go to the ends of the earth for your friends even if it meant killing yourself in the process. It would have all been worth while-- His smile was so precious— so welcoming you couldn’t help but return it hoping to reciprocate even a sliver of the energy back. Is it selfish to wish for this moment to last forever? You three in this moment without the fear of curses? Was that really such a selfish ask?

Satoru laying in your lap while Suguru is on your side shoulders almost touching. Satoru makes a loud pout. “Hey… where’s my candy.” You can’t help but let out a deep belly laugh, sometimes he is just so predictable. You couldn't decipher his face when he heard you laugh since he had quickly gone back to pouting. “What are you laughin fo-“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you peel a birthday cake flavored toffee and slip it into his mouth. “ Haha I’m sorry Gojo-san, sometimes you really are just so predictable.” Suguru also can’t help but laugh at the spectacle before him. Satoru keeps his head in your lap for the duration of your time together. As all your laughing dies down, you can’t help but feel content in this moment. Continuing to selfishly wish it would last a lifetime…

Jeez im super tired after writing this. It takes way longer than one would expect. This took like 9 hour's to write with no breaks and it could still use some tweaks ( I'm just super lazy haha) Props to all writers out there because this shit is so draining. Again feedback and constructive criticism is alway appreciated love you all!! Oh wait I would love to make readers strength contrast with her personality like she's super clueless in every other sense but smart in battle and before Gojo or Geto she becomes the first special grade but I'm not too sure. Im just tired of seeing the weak Y/N trope lol.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk x reader #reader is oblivious #gojo x reader x geto

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hanafubukki · 4 months

Note

*Casually strolls in again* Hello!! You called me back, and I shall deliver more! I was inspired by you (you lovely person and writer ❤️) once again for this scenario I would like to add on the previous scenario.

(Takes place during the dream of Book 7 where they are trapped in a dream. Where he finally meets Knight of Dawn and Reader)

Silver being shown the memory he keeps dreaming every time…

Finally he is able to fully discover and fully see the dreamlike memory…

He can see… himself surrounded by two people… holding him tight, loving and cherishing him… like he is their entire world…

But then the heart tendering moment gradually changes…

This time Silver is shown the women his mother now the only one in the room alongside him. The previous spot the man his father occupied is now… empty…

Reader is gently placing him down in a crib and caressing his face tenderly. Carefully covering him with blankets and making to keep him comfortable and warm. And hide him from the conflict.

Her still softly yet tearful singing to him. Tears trickling down from her eyes yet still tenderly smiling at him for the last time.

Silver reached his hand out to touch her but before he could, her figure and voice fades away…

[I’m evil. So sorry but at the same time, not sorry! Now excuse me, I shall take my leave again!*Running away again*

Until we meet again!

Ps. song I listen to this cover as well while thinking about silver again

https://youtu.be/etttoH0USGQ?si=b108AGI_8H7i7AA3]]

[continuation of these fics: A Moment in Time and In Our Embrace]

Hello Anonie 💚🌺🌸

Welcome back! I need a name for you, I’m going to call you “Silver Knight” because you leave Silver moments with Knight/Reader related scenarios.

Unless you want to pick a name for yourself of course 😂

Silver Knight Anonie, do you know the whiplash of emotions I felt? The compliment has me all gleeful and then I read the remaining ask and the heartbreak??

Why must you leave me in this despair?? 💔

If we are in that Silver moment when he falls to blot temporarily, when he believes he doesn’t deserve love, and he sees this??

Can you imagine how he feels? He feels his heritage, his bloodline, betrayed those he loves the most.

But then he sees this, his parents, and he doesn’t know how to feel. They who clearly loved him so much, who sacrificed everything for him? How could he think so negatively of them?

He doesn’t know what to do.

But then, just as Lilia called for him, he hears familiar voices.

[I’m setting a trap for you like those old cartoon for leaving me heartbroken like this Silver Knight Anonie😭, but never fear! I can add hope! I can add some fluff! 🥰😘

That cover song was so good, and she’s so pretty 💞🌸]

Summary: Love saves Silver once again.

"You don't deserve to cry!"

Silver fell to his knees, sobbing.

Why? Why?! How could he be born to this heritage? How could he betray his Father? Lord Malleus? Be the cause of their pain.

"My little love, why do you cry?"

Silver looked up in shock.

You.

It was you.

The one from his dreams.

He watched as you quickly walked towards a crib. The same cradle he had seen his father with. You picked up the babe and held him.

You rocked the baby gently, "There's no need to cry, sweetheart."

You twirl him around, squeals of laughter coming from the bundle.

"That look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam And I know it's true, that visions are seldom what they seem But if I know you"

Silver had risen to his feet.

This dream. He knows this dream. No...it was a memory.

"I know what you'll do You'll love me at once The way you did once upon a dream"

Silver watched as the Knight of Dawn joined you in your singing. The man that was once a hazy image in his dreams is now seen clearly.

The Knight of Dawn embraced his family.

You tapped the baby's nose, "See, my love? You are loved. There's no need to cry."

They...they loved me and I...

Silver clutched his chest.

I don't know. I don't know! What do I-argh!

The bright light of his ring blinded him before he was transported into another memory.

You were holding him, rocking him.

Yet, you seemed different.

Lonely.

"I will protect you From all around you I will be here Don't you cry"

You placed your precious bundle in the cradle. Tears fell from your face and yet you still smiled, making sure none touched your baby.

Silver neared you. He didn't want you to cry.

Please. Please. Don't cry.

"You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart Always"

"My little love, may you always be happy. May your eyes never cloud with sorrow. I pray they always be bright and true."

Those words!

Silver reaches for you, needing to wipe your tears as you have always surely done his.

Only for you to disappear.

No!

"Get up Silver! Do whatever it takes! Do not fall here!"

"My little love, do you not see? How loved you are."

Silver is filled with renewed determination. He would make sure everything would be right again.

"I will end this nightmare and bring my loved one’s smiles back!"

The ring lit up once again, engulfing the group in pastel colors.

"Our son."

Silver gasped, eyes widening.

It was you and him.

“You two are-”

Both smiled.

Silver fell.

Yes, I did use “once upon a dream” and “you’ll be in my heart” song.

Yes, I did use those lines that Lilia told Silver in book 7 chapter 1 about clear eyes without sorrows.

Yes, I am curled up in bed and in the feels. 💔🥺

But did I not say?! I will give some fluff! Some hope! 💚💚💗💗 and I meant it 🫶💞☺️🥹

#answered #Anonie ask #🌺silver knight Anonie🌺#twst silver #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #silver vanrouge #twst knight of dawn x reader #twst knight of dawn #twst platonic #twst angst #twst fluff #twst book 7 #twst scenarios #twst drabbles #twisted wonderland knight of dawn #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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halothenthehorns · 14 days

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Chapter 5: I MEET SOME FISHY RELATIVES

Beckendorf...the dark feelings still resided in him as his eyes fluttered open...yet Percy woke up feeling more relaxed than he had since...well since he first woke up without his memories.It didn't take much imagination to figure out why.

He could still feel Annabeth pressed against his back. She was sitting upright, he could hear pages of a book flipping. He smiled with a strange sense of deja vu, a hazy memory he tried to grasp like smoke. This was not the first time he'd awoken like this, but it felt new and invigorating as he yawned and stretched for another day.

She smiled and reached out for him the moment he was awake, but stopped herself, her fingers going slowly back around the book without a change in expression as she stretched too to get up.

Alex came into the room today wearing green slacks and a button up pink shirt that was far to loose on him like he was heading for a casual day at the office, there was even an untied, yellow and blue seashell patterned tie around his neck. All that was missing was a briefcase. His hair though, was all feathered up in a massive pompador style right out of the 60's.

"If you're trying to impress my dad, that outfit might do it," Percy grinned.

"The style spoke to me for many reasons," she nodded appreciatively to Percy before announcing, "oh, and it's he/ him pronouns today."

Percy sighed in exhaustion, just because he knew he was going to get that wrong at least once and he always felt bad getting the stank eye from Alex even while they made fun of each other for it.

Annabeth couldn't help but study him with the sharp, fascinated eyes of someone seeing something for the first time. Like everyone else, she'd never met a genderfluid person before, and like everything new she ever encountered, she wanted to know more.

Jason came shuffling in last. His face tight, eyes averted to the ground but shoulders straight as he went back to sit beside Nico.

Thalia let him without a word. She knew that kind of anger, she wouldn't let it stay bottled up forever, but Percy and Annabeth were being the life of the party, laughing over what she'd managed to read so far last night and how it all seemed so much simpler back then. She was teasing him about how his guinea pig face must have blushed upon seeing her in that dress while Thalia picked up the book.

Hopefully at lunch she could snag her brother for a private word, perhaps on the roof where he was least likely to cause property damage and try to explain herself again-

"Hey Annabeth," Will leaned forward anxiously in his seat before Thalia could get her thoughts together and start. "Did Rachel ever come to Camp or try to contact you guys?"

Thalia blinked, then her heart did a somersault of guilt as she realized what he was asking.

"No," Annabeth watched him carefully for that tone. "I reached out of course, to see if she had any visions of where Percy was, but-"

"She was in here," Thalia said with numb lips, looking at Magnus's suddenly stark white face. "She, I would have thought Oceanus would send her back and she would have gotten a hold of you-" she stopped with horror as Magnus jumped up.

"But, Hearth-" He'd been an idiot, he'd been an absolute fool to let him get sent anywhere! He might as well superglue a target to his face because Blitz was going to kill him if he didn't die of shame first-

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Annabeth stood up and came towards him, but he backed away with a guarded look towards her, only to bump into the couch and fall flat back.

She took a step back and spoke to the room at large, only biting at her lip for a moment before speaking with confidence. "Oceanus might seem incompetent, but he knows better than to mess with, um, her." Only to some of them did they understand she meant an Oracle, a blessed of Apollo. The others just thought she sounded very naive; except Percy, of course. He believed her without question even if he wasn't sure why as he rubbed his temple. " I'm positive he didn't do anything to harm her or, um, Hearth. IM's have still been down, or glitchy at best, so she probably couldn't get in touch that way. If he meant to pull me in here and couldn't manage it, I'm sure he just sent them, somewhere they, shouldn't be," she finished with her own confused frown. She couldn't even hope it was inside the continental US, considering how out of touch he seemed.

Magnus heard her through a low buzz, anger at himself at war with panic. Hearth wasn't exactly helpless, but he'd been assuming this whole time he was in some elfish fantasy world with Blitz having the time of his life without being responsible for him. They had to get out of here and, and...his head was swimming. He didn't even know how to start looking for him, let alone what he was going to tell Blitz. Maybe he had some magic dwarf powers and had already found him-

"Nothing's changed then," Alex's voice cut through the fog of his panic like a sword about to behead him. "We need to get out of here, we've only been given one clear way to do that," he sounded so contemptuous and stubborn all at once as he gestured at the books.

The very large pile of books they still had left.

Magnus swallowed a painfully dry throat, trying to hold onto the idea that Alex had been practicing his ASL, he was getting pretty good and Hearth was going to be so pleased when they finally met up again, but gods did that feel as unattainable a life right now as just getting a new pair of socks used to.

"Well let's get to it then," Percy reached out and took Annabeth's hand, giving it a squeeze, before releasing her. A silent promise she could go wherever she wanted in this room and he'd be right here. Rachel was as resilient as her, he scolded his racing heart. She probably couldn't get a hold of anyone from her private island because the satellite her dad owned was having a bad day, it was just his luck, not anything happening to her.

Annabeth backed up slowly, eyes on her cousin, but sat back down beside him.

"Can't get any worse," Jason agreed, his voice rough like he'd been screaming into a pillow half the night.

Nico and Will exchanged miserable looks, feeling as usual the spectators in everybody else's life.

Nobody tried to stop Thalia as she huddled up tight in her seat with a miserable feeling. Some leader she was. If Zeus could see her he'd probably laugh himself stupid off his throne.

"I Meet Some Fishy Relatives," she told the room with a faint smile, Percy had always managed to bring that out in her whether she liked it or not.

"Talking fish?" Magnus asked with interest that even to his own ears felt lackluster. The one time he'd like to be able to shut his brain off and curl up in his sleeping bag, but he didn't want to leave either. This place had always felt like a dream, an escape from his miserable life the moment that door had opened. Hearth was okay, he'd keep telling himself over and over. He was wicked smart and resourceful and probably knew all kinds of elf things he'd never told Magnus about he could yell at him for later.

"All fish are talking fish when Percy meets them," Will chuckled.

"I'm worried it means fishy like suspicious. He blacked out in the ocean, what if Poseidon's enemies captured him," Jason frowned.

"Maybe for once we meet nicer relatives of Percy's, the only one who hasn't wanted to kill him is Tyson," Nico sighed.

Percy looked desperately to Annabeth, and for once, she gave him a commiserating look as she asked, "why are they trying to guess when they could just shut it and find out faster?"

"Thank you!" Percy shouted with such gusto a floom of bubbles left his fingers, "I've been telling them that from the get go!"

"Let them have their game, the actual chapters are usually death and destruction. At least these are fun," Will shrugged.

Thalia wholeheartedly agreed, and added, "maybe he meets the original Pegasus, that'd be a fun play on words."

Percy groaned while Annabeth at least gave Thalia an indulgent smile until the mild laughter subsided and Thalia properly started.

Demigod dreams suck.

"Pretty sure I had a dream last night about a platypus juggling," Alex gave him a sad nod.

"Why you gotta brag man?" Percy sighed.

Alex didn't even point out he was just sharing his awesome dream, it had been a bit of a brag too it wasn't about Loki again.

The thing is, they're never just dreams. They've got to be visions, omens, and all that other mystical stuff that makes my brain hurt.

"Why do you even need the Oracle?" Magnus looked sickened at being hounded by this world even in your sleep. Percy had just watched his friend die, couldn't it ever cut him some slack? "Sounds to me like you guys get enough hellish visions without the green smoke."

"The Oracle's actually more vague than our dreams half the time," Percy agreed with the gripe.

Annabeth gave them both an exasperated look, one Percy associated with having asked her this once before and he'd tuned out the answer, which he only vaguely realized he was doing now as he saw her mouth moving but wasn't taking in a word until she shot Will a dirty look as he snickered and interrupted, "my dad would have smited them already for asking that anywhere else. Can we move on?"

Annabeth obviously didn't agree, but Thalia was more than happy to do so.

I dreamed I was in a dark palace at the top of a mountain. Unfortunately, I recognized it: the palace of the Titans on top of Mount Othrys, otherwise known as Mount Tamalpais, in California.

Percy's hand slipped back into Annabeth's. Slowly, cautiously, but she only smiled without a trace of rejection. He smiled right back, taking any excuse he could to have her close as memories of that place swirled to easily to mind, her grimy face begging Luke for help, Kronos's golden eyes watching pitilessly as Beckendorf closed his eyes and reached for his watch. This place meant nothing but death.

The main pavilion was open to the night, ringed with black Greek columns and statues of the Titans. Torchlight glowed against the black marble floor. In the center of the room, an armored giant struggled under the weight of a swirling funnel cloud—Atlas, holding up the sky.

Thalia gave herself a calming breath. It wasn't Annabeth and Artemis back under there, he was still trapped and he would stay that way.

Two other giant men stood nearby over a bronze brazier, studying images in the flames.

"Where's the midget Titan?" Percy sighed. "Why are they all stocking up on Wheaties and three times the size of me?"

"You needed a growth spurt," Annabeth smirked.

"Quite an explosion," one said. He wore black armor studded with silver dots like a starry night. His face was covered in a war helm with a ram's horn curling on either side.

Jason's blood ran cold, and it was something more than the idea of the Titan. It felt like a memory, like his presence was a sheer force of icy wind trying to bow him over he'd fought against-

"Jason?" Nico's hand was warm as he gave him a friendly nudge, the shock of it so far from where his mind had been trying to loop him into it easily knocked him out.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured quietly, quickly, hoping Thalia hadn't noticed. What else about his past was she hoarding to herself? He didn't want to deal with any of it right now.

She'd noticed, and was pretending she hadn't just as easily.

"It doesn't matter," the other said.

Percy's anger flared so harsh, all of their vision burned white for a moment as the ocean turned painfully hot in seconds. Beckendorf's sacrifice didn't matter?! Taking out a whole battalion had made them brush him off like a bit of grass!

"Percy!" Annabeth's voice was startled more than afraid, but he hadn't realized he'd yanked his hand out from hers as they balled up into fists. Like he'd vanished right from her side without warning.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped, taking her hand back gently and curling his fingers tight around her weathered hands, cupping her in both of his as everyone around him blinked and a few even waved their hands in front of their eyes to chase away the spots.

This Titan was dressed in gold robes, with golden eyes like Kronos. His entire body glowed. He reminded me of Apollo, God of the Sun, except the Titan's light was harsher, and his expression crueler.

If Percy hadn't been using every last bit of his usually useless concentration to keep him here in this room, his anger would have been absolute enough to borrow some of that power and explode something. His body remembered this guy like his mind couldn't, it wanted to help him, churn the ocean to his will and finish what had once been started...but there were no Titans in here, and he would keep a lid on himself and not hurt them!

"The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed."

The images in the fire were hard to make out: storms, buildings crumbling, mortals screaming in terror.

"I will go east to marshal our forces," the golden Titan said. "Krios, you shall remain and guard Mount Othrys."

The white specks still dancing in Jason's eyes weren't doing well to chase away the image of stars in the water, the darkness just out of touch in the room. In a better mood he would have liked to speak with Percy how interesting it was he experienced his own anger and how it felt tight, almost painful without a release he wasn't giving and what to do with this feeling, but he wanted to understand this more than his stupid ideas right now.

The ram horn dude grunted. "I always get the stupid jobs. Lord of the South. Lord of Constellations. Now I get to babysit Atlas while you have all the fun."

Nico was impressed at the look that passed over Jason's face, almost a sneer of intimidation just begging to laugh. The sort of confidence that certainly would have made him consider before drawing his own sword.

Under the whirlwind of clouds, Atlas bellowed in agony, "Let me out, curse you! I am your greatest warrior.

Alex scoffed so hard it sounded like it hurt. "He was out of there for how long and got absolutely thrashed by everyone he met."

Thalia gave him an unimpressed look for that cocky attitude. Even Artemis had to trick him back into taking his burden, Zoe and Percy had been a mere annoyance in the meantime.

Annabeth didn't remember much of her time beneath the sky, mostly just black fuzzy pain she'd have given anything to be away from, but she'd heard Atlas's voice speaking to Luke and knew it was the cause of her pain. She did her best to suppress a shiver and shove that memory back away to wherever it was. How had Percy been taking all of this so calmly? Just one whisper of a memory of her past and she felt like crawling out of her skin.

Take my burden so I may fight!"

Nico chuckled for himself. He felt like that was the real punishment, not even the sky itself. That Atlas had to rely on someone else to take it, that he couldn't force his burden away. It was something he was sure his dad had thought up.

"Quiet!" the golden Titan roared. "You had your chance, Atlas. You failed. Kronos likes you just where you are. As for you, Krios, do your duty."

"And if you need more warriors?" Krios asked. "Our treacherous nephew in the tuxedo will not do you much good in a fight."

"Tuxedo?" One of Alex's brows shot up with interest. "Who's showing up to the party in all their glory?"

"I volunteer Alex fight them if he's that invested," Percy sighed. "Fashion runway faceoff maybe."

"Don't tempt me," he smirked. "I can resist everything but temptation," rolling the last word on his tongue and savoring it. Magnus swallowed and looked quickly away from those lips.

The golden Titan laughed. "Don't worry about him. Besides, the gods can barely handle our first little challenge. They have no idea how many others we have in store. Mark my words, in a few days' time, Olympus will be in ruins, and we will meet here again to celebrate the dawn of the Sixth Age!"

The golden Titan erupted into flames and disappeared.

"Oh, sure," Krios grumbled. "He gets to erupt into flames. I get to wear these stupid ram's horns."

If he didn't like them so much, Jason would be happy to rip them off. The feeling sat clenched and painful until his mind was forced to move on, he could feel a sharp breeze tugging at his clothes he wasn't consciously aware of. Somewhere in his memories, he knew that as much as Crius resented his placement in the cosmos, he had known how to use those powers.

The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades.

Nico smiled in surprise Percy had once considered him a friend. Surely that placement had stayed in the months since, despite everything that had happened...until he'd been forgotten about like everybody else.

"You were just casually spying on Titans?" Will sighed, in a very exhausted kind of way that already meant he knew his worry would fall on deaf ears.

He was right, he might as well have been talking to Hearth. "Uhhu," Nico nodded. "I pulled Percy into that dream. Something I was experimenting with, pretty cool it worked, huh?"

Annabeth sighed, Percy looked startled, but Will grinned faintly, like he was impressed. There weren't Titans around anymore to worry about Nico continuing to do this, but Will still hoped he might be able to provide backup one day anyways.

Nico was imagining the same thing, and fought hard to suppress a laugh at Will trying to blend into the shadows with that blond hair. It wasn't working very well.

He looked straight at me, his expression grim. "You see, Percy?" he whispered. "You're running out of time. Do you really think you can beat them without my plan?"

"That plan?" Percy groaned, knowing full well the answer was buried somewhere in his head and the current source of his headache.

The room was collectively silent in answer, though Jason and Alex looked a little put out too like they would have backed Percy up on getting an answer to that sooner rather than later. Thalia decided to keep reading before that broke out into more.

His words washed over me as cold as the ocean floor, and my dreams went black.

"Percy?" a deep voice said.

My head felt like it had been microwaved in aluminum foil.

"Well, nothing else has got his brain firing on all pistons, someone was bound to try this eventually," Thalia chuckled.

I opened my eyes and saw a large shadowy figure looming over me.

"Beckendorf?" I asked hopefully.

"No, brother."

It was the first time everybody wasn't excited to hear about Tyson. The quiet, heavy weight of the room still circled around that name, not even a moment to hope it had been true before Thalia had taken it away.

My eyes refocused. I was looking at a Cyclops—a misshapen face, ratty brown hair, one big brown eye full of concern. "Tyson?"

My brother broke into a toothy grin. "Yay! Your brain works!"

"Debatable," Annabeth smirked.

Percy had never looked so thrilled to be insulted by someone. It was sort of cute, and kind of sad as Annabeth had yet taken her eyes off him, the lines under her eyes hardly less than yesterday.

I wasn't so sure. My body felt weightless and cold. My voice sounded wrong. I could hear Tyson, but it was more like I was hearing vibrations inside my skull, not the regular sounds.

Jason stirred with interest first, looking quizzically at Percy, then around the room. "Isn't Tyson still in Neptune's Kingdom? Did someone bring you there?"

"Makes sense," Percy nodded wearily. He had last blacked out in the ocean, that ship would have sent a massive echo throughout the deep waters attracting everything, plenty of creatures who would know where to take him. Even for once, getting an answer right as he woke up, couldn't overpower his still settling knowledge that Beckendorf couldn't have survived the same.

I sat up, and a gossamer sheet floated away. I was on a bed made of silky woven kelp, in a room paneled with abalone shell. Glowing pearls the size of basketballs floated around the ceiling, providing light. I was under water.

"Next time, Poseidon should kidnap us outright," Alex huffed. "His digs sound way nicer than what we got."

Annabeth nodded in agreement, but Percy saw the sadness creep over her face as she looked around. He could only imagine what was going on in that big, beautiful brain of hers, and what she might suggest to their current prison-lords on how to spruce up the place.

Now, being the son of Poseidon and all, I was okay with this. I can breathe underwater just fine, and my clothes don't even get wet unless I want them to. But it was still a bit of a shock when a hammerhead shark drifted through the bedroom window, regarded me, and then swam calmly out the opposite side of the room.

"Where—"

"Daddy's palace," Tyson said.

Jason was starting to look a little put out why they weren't all hearing each others voices through the vibrations in the water, and why they'd been foisted to some old Titan instead of the central hubbub of an Olympian's palace.

Nico sighed in exasperation as Alex was still muttering about that too, and he vividly remembered how unhappy Oceanus was about them even being here. There was just no pleasing anybody when it came to kidnapping.

Under different circumstances, I would've been excited. I'd never visited Poseidon's realm, and I'd been dreaming about it for years.

"Why haven't we been hearing about those dreams?" Magnus sighed. "All we've been hearing is death, and potential death, and threatening's of death."

Percy thought about it for a moment before offering, "I think there was one where Bessie and I sat around blowing bubbles. She was green for some reason."

"I accept that," Magnus chuckled in surprise, "I honestly was starting to doubt you could have normal dreams."

But my head hurt. My shirt was still speckled with burn marks from the explosion. My arm and leg wounds had healed—just being in the ocean can do that for me, given enough time—but I still felt like I'd been trampled by a Laistrygonian soccer team in cleats.

"Wearing short shorts," Alex just had to add to the trauma. "Doing speckys off one another and smelling wretched!"

"He's just like that. All the time." Percy told Annabeth's calculating face upon him.

"Ah," she nodded as if she'd come to much the same conclusion.

"Nobody's going to ask what a specky is?" Alex asked in disappointment.

"Nobody was foolish enough to think you weren't going to explain," Jason promised.

"They jump off one another!" He shouted.

"In the, cleats?" Magnus asked in concern.

"Well they don't take their shoes off during the game Magnus," he sniffed.

"Right," he sighed while Thalia uneasily looked down at the book and decided to keep reading before Alex wanted to start demonstrating.

"How long—"

"We found you last night," Tyson said, "sinking through the water."

"The Princess Andromeda?"

"Went ka-boom," Tyson confirmed.

It was a mark of how bad things were Tyson had put no enthusiasm into one of his favorite activities. Likely because the big guy knew from personal experience how ships going ka-boom could be dangerous, since he'd been in the middle of one.

"Beckendorf was on board. Did you find . . ."

Tyson's face darkened. "No sign of him. I am sorry, brother."

I stared out the window into deep blue water. Beckendorf was supposed to go to college in the fall. He had a girlfriend, lots of friends, his whole life ahead of him. He couldn't be gone.

The pain in Thalia's voice as she read that stunned them. She hadn't even known Beckendorf, yet it sounded so personal to her...as her eyes flickered to Jason.

Annabeth felt like she was still caught in the middle of that hurricane if she thought about that to long. That someone she considered a sister had a past, a secret sibling she'd never shared a word about. Something had happened to him, this she easily devised. These exact feelings Percy expressed was probably as close as Thalia had ever come to dealing with the loss of him being out of her life.

Jason watched her, studying her with those same vibrant blue eyes. The anger was still there, but it was cooling now to calculating, a type of focus Annabeth knew all to well. Checking your opponent for their weakness, he was analyzing her to see how much she meant that. Annabeth knew her well enough to know she meant every painful word for him.

Maybe he'd made it off the ship like I had. Maybe he'd jumped over the side . . . and what? He couldn't have survived a hundred-foot fall into the water like I could. He couldn't have put enough distance between himself and the explosion.

I knew in my gut he was dead. He'd sacrificed himself to take out the Princess Andromeda, and I had abandoned him.

I thought about my dream: the Titans discussing the explosion as if it didn't matter, Nico di Angelowarning me that I would never beat Kronos without following his plan—a dangerous idea I'd been avoiding for more than a year.

"How is it," Alex redirected easily onto Percy her frustration with the universe, "that even when you finally know something before the last second, we still don't get to hear it!"

Percy wanted to tell them. He sighed and opened his mouth and would have, but the moment he tried his tongue felt swollen, the pain in his head amplified like a comet heading towards his butt. There were things, memories, experiences connected with Nico's plan that were hard to tie together into one cohesive explanation for Alex.

"I feel just as out of the loop," Annabeth quickly intervened, that look of pained frustration on his face she'd do anything to help ease away. "I know the outcome and I wasn't given any forewarning of this. Percy made a plan without me!"

Magnus chuckled for her, the stiff silence in the room mellowing away, but it lingered as Percy let out a shaky sigh instead of joining in.

A distant blast shook the room. Green light blazed outside, turning the whole sea as bright as noon.

"What was that?" I asked.

Tyson looked worried. "Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters."

"Monsters?" Magnus emphasized the plural in concern. "A blast like that from a god didn't incinerate anything in the ocean he wanted?" His voice squeaked at the end, Annabeth felt rather bad the news seemed to hit him so hard.

She felt even worse she didn't have a better answer for him than anyone else.

The palace might have been the most amazing place I'd ever seen if it hadn't been in the process of getting destroyed. We swam to the end of a long hallway and shot upward on a geyser. As we rose over the rooftops I caught my breath—well, if you can catch your breath underwater.

"I'm still concerned where the bathroom leads," Nico frowned, "physics has fallen pretty far down the ladder."

The palace was as big as the city on Mount Olympus, with wide courtyards, gardens, and columned pavilions. The gardens were sculpted with coral colonies and glowing sea plants. Twenty or thirty buildings were made of abalone, white but gleaming with rainbow colors. Fish and octopi darted in and out of the windows. The paths were lined with glowing pearls like Christmas lights.

Thalia sounded delightfully greedy. She could pin Percy down and never get these kinds of details about such an amazing place only a handful of demigods would ever visit. The idea did give her a sense of vertigo though, imagining herself so far off the ground traversing over this...even while being underwater which seriously made her stomach churn in confusion and fear.

The main courtyard was filled with warriors—mermen with fish tails from the waist down and human bodies from the waist up, except their skin was blue, which I'd never known before. Some were tending the wounded. Some were sharpening spears and swords. One passed us, swimming in a hurry. His eyes were bright green, like that stuff they put in glo-sticks, and his teeth were shark teeth. They don't show you stuff like that in The Little Mermaid.

"But they should have," Alex's eyes gleamed with interest as he ran a hand through his green hair. "Let's see how many kids still want to reenact Part of Your World with sharkteeth!"

"You, and maybe Percy," Jason snorted.

"I bet there's plenty of kids out there into the ocean who would still get a kick out of these guys," Percy defended the random sea-loving children of the world.

The others just started snickering Percy hadn't denied he'd jumped on a rock and tried to do that dramatic scene with waves and all at least once.

Outside the main courtyard stood large fortifications—towers, walls, and antisiege weapons—but most of these had been smashed to ruins. Others were blazing with a strange green light that I knew well—Greek fire, which can burn even underwater.

"Wait, so how do you put it out?" Magnus asked in concern, vividly remembering kids casually using this on each other during those chariot races.

"A god has to personally put it out," Annabeth shrugged.

"Mr. D puts it out in the jars sometimes when we annoy him," Percy huffed.

Beyond this, the sea floor stretched into gloom. I could see battles raging—flashes of energy, explosions, the glint of armies clashing. A regular human would've found it too dark to see. Heck, a regular human would've been crushed by the pressure and frozen by the cold. Even my heat-sensitive eyes couldn't make out exactly what was going on.

Magnus still had moments where he just sat there and realized none of these guys were human. Even after all the crazy shit he constantly heard of Percy doing, he looked like just a regular guy. They talked and laughed and it just wasn't a thing until Percy himself pointed it out in moments like this.

At the edge of the palace complex, a temple with a red coral roof exploded, sending fire and debris streaming in slow motion across the farthest gardens. Out of the darkness above, an enormous form appeared—a squid larger than any skyscraper. It was surrounded by a glittering cloud of dust—at least I thought it was dust, until I realized it was a swarm of mermen trying to attack the monster. The squid descended on the palace and swatted its tentacles, smashing a whole column of warriors. Then a brilliant arc of blue light shot from the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings. The light hit the giant squid, and the monster dissolved like food coloring in water.

"Daddy," Tyson said, pointing to where the light had come from.

Percy beamed with pride at his father's power. He imagined some huge Hollywood monster coming up to the surface and terrorizing a beach, only for that streak of light to flash across the surface. Then a fade to black, and "Tentacles," and the credits to roll or something. Last time he'd seen such godly power, Thalia had been shaken and wondering if it was her own father who tried to kill her. Hera manipulating their quest for what she wanted. His dad proved that kind of might was used for good too.

Poor squid though.

"He did that?" I suddenly felt more hopeful. My dad had unbelievable powers. He was the god of the sea. He could deal with this attack, right? Maybe he'd let me help.

"Have you been in the fight?" I asked Tyson in awe. "Like bashing heads with your awesome Cyclops strength and stuff?"

Tyson pouted, and immediately I knew I'd asked a bad question, "I have been . . . fixing weapons," he mumbled.

"He's keeping Tyson safe," Annabeth said as Percy frowned, but it was strange for her to try and explain that. Her parents had never bothered trying with her, so it didn't sound like much to her ears Poseidon had apparently tried with his younger batch.

"Come. Let's go find Daddy."

I know this might sound weird to people with, like, regular parents,

"None of which are in this room," Will snorted.

but I'd only seen my dad four or five times in my life, and never for more than a few minutes. The Greek gods don't exactly show up for their kids' basketball games. Still, I thought I would recognize Poseidon on sight.

I was wrong.

The roof of the temple was a big open deck that had been set up as a command center. A mosaic on the floor showed an exact map of the palace grounds and the surrounding ocean, but the mosaic moved.

Colored stone tiles representing different armies and sea monsters shifted around as the forces changed position. Buildings that collapsed in real life also collapsed in the picture.

Standing around the mosaic, grimly studying the battle, was a strange assortment of warriors, but none of them looked like my dad. I was searching for a big guy with a good tan and a black beard, wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

There was nobody like that. One guy was a merman with two fish tails instead of one. His skin was green, his armor studded with pearls. His black hair was tied in a ponytail, and he looked young—though it's hard to tell with non-humans. They could be a thousand years old or three. Standing next to him was an old man with a bushy white beard and gray hair. His battle armor seemed to weigh him down. He had green eyes and smile wrinkles around his eyes, but he wasn't smiling now. He was studying the map and leaning on a large metal staff. To his right stood a beautiful woman in green armor with flowing black hair and strange little horns like crab claws. And there was a dolphin—just a regular dolphin, but it was staring at the map intently.

"Any, guesses?" Alex asked hesitantly, like he wasn't sure himself for once if he was supposed to poke fun at, any of that.

"Um, I vote the double-tailed merman," Nico offered. "He's trying to be a part of his warriors."

"I was going to vote the chick, or the dolphin," Alex shrugged, "I see no reason he'd confine himself to one shape."

"If he's just being weird and deciding to be those mosaic tiles, I reserve the right to freak out," Magnus grumbled.

Jason and Thalia exchanged a look, before Jason quickly looked away, but they knew they'd been thinking the same thing. The green eyes and smile wrinkles, the human traits he passed onto Percy nobody could really miss. Nico was half right in that he was showing the shape of his kingdom, how rundown it was from the constant stress of this war their father would never dare let show.

"Delphin," the old man said. "Send Palaemon and his legion of sharks to the western front. We have to neutralize those leviathans."

"Has anybody got Atlantis on the phone for backup?" Will asked hesitantly.

"Pretty sure that place is Atlantis," Annabeth reminded. It was a common fight in her cabin to out due each other with who could prove the strangest myth mortals blamed on Greek mythology. So far Clause was winning with some secret organization he was close to uncovering, though he'd only shown enough proof to convince them they even existed last she heard, he was still working on specifics.

The dolphin spoke in a chattering voice, but I could understand it in my mind: Yes, lord! It sped away.

I looked in dismay at Tyson, then back at the old man.

It didn't seem possible, but . . . "Dad?" I asked.

The others winced, Alex muttering it was more about losing his guess than pity for a god, but nobody believed him.

The old man looked up. I recognized the twinkle in his eyes, but his face . . . he looked like he'd aged forty years.

"Hello, Percy."

"What—what happened to you?"

Tyson nudged me. He was shaking his head so hard I was afraid it would fall off,

"We already knew Tyson had more sense than Percy ever will, no need for him to show off," Thalia snorted.

Annabeth found herself smiling at all of the strangers though that not one of them looked mildly concerned at Percy blabbing the first thing that came to his mind to a god. At least they'd been getting to know the real him.

but Poseidon didn't look offended.

"It's all right, Tyson," he said. "Percy, excuse my appearance. The war has been hard on me."

"But you're immortal," I said quietly. "You can look . . . any way you want."

"I reflect the state of my realm," he said. "And right now that state is quite grim. Percy, I should introduce you—I'm afraid you just missed my lieutenant Delphin, God of the Dolphins.

"There's a god of Dolphin's!" Magnus's spluttering wavered between a laugh and disbelief. "Is, is there a god of all animals? Is there a god of snails?!"

Percy chewed on that for a minute before deciding, "I have no idea, but it wouldn't surprise me."

"No, there's not," Annabeth properly answered with a shake of her head at Percy. "Delphin carried Amphitrite to Poseidon, and he made him a constellation in thanks."

"Oh yeah," Percy nodded, vaguely remembering the story now that she'd said it, while Magnus grinned in thanks at his cousin. She smiled readily back. As strange as it was to have him around, it at least wasn't unpleasant.

This is my, er, wife, Amphitrite. My dear—"

The lady in green armor stared at me coldly, then crossed her arms and said, "Excuse me, my lord. I am needed in the battle."

She swam away.

"Brrr," Will mock shivered while Thalia gave Percy a look like, 'be grateful.' Will felt so lucky his dad hadn't actually managed an immortal wife for this reason alone. Nico's time around Persephone only reinforced that.

I felt pretty awkward, but I guess I couldn't blame her. I'd never thought about it much, but my dad had an immortal wife. All his romances with mortals, including with my mom . . . well, Amphitrite probably didn't like that much.

"I think I'd prefer that than being turned into a dandelion," Jason shivered at the sudden, heavy knowledge that sank in. Hera was his stepmom! Crap!

She hadn't ever seemed to do anything to Thalia, that she'd mentioned anyways, but he had a very confident sense of doom there was a story there all the same.

Poseidon cleared his throat. "Yes, well . . . and this is my son Triton. Er, my other son."

"Your son and heir," the green dude corrected.

"Percy, I don't think this court likes you very much," Alex told him in dismay. "They clearly haven't heard of your amazing travels as Lord of the Bathroom."

"Supreme Lord of the Bathroom without question," Percy said grandly, clearly tired of trying to convince Alex otherwise to stop bringing that up. Magnus shook his head as Percy fell into the 'join them' category. "Which is obviously all your fault Alex," Percy smirked, "you haven't been spreading word fast enough of all my deeds."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you're trending on the vine," he chuckled.

"The gossiping trees don't count," Percy huffed while Annabeth looked between the two, half amused, half concerned. Thalia nodded behind Percy's back to assure her this was just how the two of them got on.

His double fish tails swished back and forth. He smiled at me, but there was no friendliness in his eyes. "Hello, Perseus Jackson. Come to help at last?"

He acted like I was late or lazy. If you can blush underwater, I probably did.

"Tell me what to do," I said.

Triton smiled like that was a cute suggestion—like I was a slightly amusing dog that had barked for him or something.

Nico laughed, a terrifying, quiet kind of noise that sent a shiver up their spines. This minor god had no clue what all Percy had done, how Percy had been gifted everything Poseidon and Sally had to offer and was the best of them all for it.

Percy smiled in surprise at Nico's creepy laugh clearly being used in his defense. That was a nice change of pace.

He turned to Poseidon. "I will see to the front line, Father. Don't worry. I will not fail."

He nodded politely to Tyson. How come I didn't get that much respect?

"Clearly he needs to be kidnapped and taught a lesson next," Alex sneered.

Will winced and resisted the urge to cover his ears at the idea of kidnapping gods, even minor gods, to teach them a lesson. That sounded like a recipe for disaster with lots of dead bodies more than any nice life morality lessons happening.

Then he shot off into the water.

Poseidon sighed. He raised his staff, and it changed into his regular weapon—a huge three-pointed trident. The tip glowed with blue light, and the water around it boiled with energy.

"I'm sorry about that," he told me.

A huge sea serpent appeared from above us and spiraled down toward the roof. It was bright orange with a fanged mouth big enough to swallow a gymnasium.

Hardly looking up, Poseidon pointed his trident at the beast and zapped it with blue energy. Ka-boom!

The monster burst into a million goldfish, which all swam off in terror.

Magnus felt something shake loose in him and swim off like a goldfish too. He hoped it was his last shred of sanity so he'd stop being so surprised by this. Most likely it was his bladder just abandoning him.

"My family is anxious," Poseidon continued as if nothing had happened.

Percy nodded. He'd been abashed by his poor showing at this 'family reunion.' It didn't surprise him in the slightest he'd have to earn his dad's side of the family respect just like he did any god, if he ever even wanted it.

"The battle against Oceanus is going poorly."

He pointed to the edge of the mosaic. With the butt of his trident he tapped the image of a merman larger than the rest, with the horns of a bull. He appeared to be riding a chariot pulled by crawfish, and instead of a sword he wielded a live serpent.

"Well that's, interesting," Jason sounded almost complimentary.

"I'm just grateful he didn't post the crawfish as centries at the door," Percy scoffed. It was extremely frustrating this Titan's abilities seemed to trump his own and he couldn't escape. His dad showing his age, fighting against this constantly for years, it made all the more sense.

"Oceanus," I said, trying to remember. "The Titan of the sea?"

Poseidon nodded. "He was neutral in the first war of gods and Titans. But Kronos has convinced him to fight. This is . . . well, it's not a good sign. Oceanus would not commit unless he was sure he could pick the winning side."

"Which clearly didn't work out very well for him," Thalia sneered.

"Yeah, and his punishment is somehow us," Jason said dully. It was the first time he'd acknowledged her, purposefully spoken to her. His premonition about Hera lingered, Mr. D's punishment an easy point to make.

Thalia winced and looked away this time, all but confirming Jason's suspicion.

"He looks stupid," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I mean, who fights with a snake?"

"Daddy will tie it in knots," Tyson said firmly.

Annabeth hadn't seen that serpent around his palace, and honestly did wonder what had happened to it. Where had Tethy's been during this battle? Who had approached whom for this deal to be struck for them to be here?

Poseidon smiled, but he looked weary. "I appreciate your faith. We have been at war almost a year now. My powers are taxed.

Magnus didn't realize their powers could be taxed. Wasn't that the point of being a god, unlimited power? He knew they could fade, he knew they could have flaws, but now hearing this, his brain kept nitpicking over the specifics of what made them a god then? What key element was it that separated them from us, other than their uncanny ability to disintegrate whatever they wanted.

And still he finds new forces to throw at me—sea monsters so ancient I had forgotten about them."

I heard an explosion in the distance. About half a mile away, a mountain of coral disintegrated under the weight of two giant creatures. I could dimly make out their shapes. One was a lobster. The other was a giant humanoid like a Cyclops, but he was surrounded by a flurry of limbs. At first I thought he wearing a bunch of giant octopi. Then I realized they were his own arms—a hundred flailing, fighting arms.

"Briares!" I said.

I was happy to see him, but he looked like he was fighting for his life. He was the last of his kind—a Hundred-Handed One, cousin of the Cyclopes. We'd saved him from Kronos's prison last summer, and I knew he'd come to help Poseidon, but I hadn't heard of him since.

"He fights well," Poseidon said. "I wish we had a whole army like him, but he is the only one."

I watched as Briares bellowed in rage and picked up the lobster, which thrashed and snapped its pincers. He threw it off the coral mountain, and the lobster disappeared into the darkness. Briares swam after it, his hundred arms spinning like the blades of a motorboat.

Alex smiled fondly for all of the freakish things down there that were defending their home without question. When Percy was the outcast of that place, he had a feeling he'd love to fit in. He longed to make a sculpture of Braries, he wished that the Loch Ness monster or some ancient world turtle would appear to cap off this day of extravagant new beings he was hearing about.

"Percy, we may not have much time," my dad said. "Tell me of your mission. Did you see Kronos?"

I told him everything, though my voice choked up when I explained about Beckendorf. I looked down at the courtyards below and saw hundreds of wounded mermen lying on makeshift cots. I saw rows of coral mounds that must've been hastily made graves. I realized Beckendorf wasn't the first death. He was only one of hundreds, maybe thousands. I'd never felt so angry and helpless.

They could see that. The water began bubbling around Percy's head like an angry vat, he let out a breath and steam made a hissing noise that made Will shiver. He'd let go of Annabeth's hand as if on instinct to switch into battle mode.

"I know," Annabeth promised, reaching for him without fear. Her hand hovered just out of reach above his, feeling the heat but not pressing in. To her, Luke had been the first casualty of Kronos's war, convincing him to abandon her, them all.

Percy's anger didn't quite shimmer away, more clicked down to a low simmering boil. He could hear everything she hadn't said in those two words, and for now, his conflicting feelings outweighed his anger on the outcome of it all when she brought up Luke, again.

Poseidon stroked his beard. "Percy, Beckendorf chose a heroic death. You bear no blame for that.

Percy didn't want to hear those words, especially coming out of Thalia's mouth. They both knew a heroic sacrifice could easily be in vain.

Kronos's army will be in disarray. Many were destroyed."

"But we didn't kill him, did we?"

Percy didn't need to see his friends wincing and avoiding his eyes. He already knew.

As I said it, I knew it was a naive hope. We might blow up his ship and disintegrate his monsters, but a Titan lord wouldn't be so easy to kill.

Anger bubbled in Percy's chest, he found himself glancing at Annabeth for an answer just like always. She knew what it would take to defeat him and wasn't telling him, just like Thalia. Was it for the better? Probably, but that didn't make it feel okay right now when Beckendorf deserved answers at his final resting! He studied his hands, stress radiating from his gut at what he'd done, what he might be capable of to achieve that kind of power.

"No," Poseidon admitted. "But you've bought our side some time."

"There were demigods on that ship," I said, thinking of the kid I'd seen in the stairwell.

Jason swallowed his impulsive answer. The dog eat dog nature of war; that had been those kid's choice. It bothered him greatly that was his first thought, because it matched nothing about what he'd woken up feeling. Being here, having to hear Percy's story wasn't really his 'choice.' Sure he could sit out, nobody was making him be in here but his own curiosity. He had a suspicion those kids had been given even less say. If they'd run away from camp or home, with no satyr to guide them on their way back, but instead were raised in an environment where you learned to fight or this was your fate.

Somehow I'd allowed myself to concentrate on the monsters and Kronos. I'd convinced myself that destroying their ship was all right because they were evil, they were sailing to attack my city, and besides, they couldn't really be permanently killed. Monsters just vaporized and re-formed eventually. But demigods ...

Poseidon put his hand on my shoulder. "Percy, there were only a few demigod warriors aboard that ship, and they all chose to battle for Kronos. Perhaps some heeded your warning and escaped. If they did not . . . they chose their path."

"They were brainwashed!" I said. "Now they're dead and Kronos is still alive. That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Nobody expects you to feel okay about this Percy, let alone better," Will promised, his voice one level off from being choked up. "And if your dad does, well, that says more about him than you."

Percy sighed, biting down hard on Riptide's pen cap, enough he would have ruined any other ballpoint pen. His dad rarely showed this kind of callousness like the other gods. It didn't feel dismissive, which was worse. Poseidon clearly understood Percy didn't agree, but wanted him to.

I glared at the mosaic—little tile explosions destroying tile monsters. It seemed so easy when it was just a picture.

Tyson put his arm around me. If anybody else had tried that, I would've pushed him away, but Tyson was too big and stubborn. He hugged me whether I wanted it or not.

Annabeth couldn't help a giggle in surprise. Percy looked so aggrieved, and it was one of the things she liked best about Tyson, how he could always get through to Percy even when she couldn't.

"Not your fault, brother. Kronos does not explode good. Next time we will use a big stick."

Everybody in the room laughed in delight, each one able to think of a specific and different memory of why they'd like to help hit Kronos with the biggest stick they could find. Alex was personally imagining whacking him with Yggdrasil a few times.

"Percy," my father said. "Beckendorf's sacrifice wasn't in vain. You have scattered the invasion force. New York will be safe for a time, which frees the other Olympians to deal with the bigger threat."

It was the most comforting thing his dad could offer, even if it didn't do him much good. He wished his mom were there, or here. She'd know the right thing to say about Beckendorf, about all of those kids who had to die so Kronos could just keep scheming another day.

"The bigger threat?" I thought about what the golden Titan had said in my dream: The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed.

A shadow passed over my father's face. "You've had enough sorrow for one day. Ask Chiron when you return to camp."

"Because that's Chiron's specialty, delivering the worst news," Magnus groaned.

"Sometimes he delegates to Percy," Nico muttered his agreement.

"Return to camp? But you're in trouble here. I want to help!"

"You can't, Percy. Your job is elsewhere."

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. I looked at Tyson for backup.

"Doesn't sound like Tysons's getting to help as much as he wanted either," Annabeth shook her head.

"Teaming up might get the job done," but Percy knew a lost cause when it started. As far as he knew, they were his dad's youngest kids, they had the least leverage of anyone in that court no matter how many tantrums they threw.

My brother chewed his lip. "Daddy . . . Percy can fight with a sword. He is good."

"I know that," Poseidon said gently.

"Dad, I can help," I said. "I know I can. You're not going to hold out here much longer."

Will still winced at Percy all this time later. How he imagined his voice rising with anger, telling a god that they couldn't do this without a mortal's help, that they were weak. Percy would have been fused with Poseidon's throne as a footrest if he were any other god.

A fireball launched into the sky from behind the enemy lines. I thought Poseidon would deflect it or something, but it landed on the outer corner of the yard and exploded, sending mermen tumbling through the water. Poseidon winced as if he'd just been stabbed.

Alex imagined it must feel something like that every time a tanker full of oil exploded, or a storm blew to much trash to tangle up his echo system. The god was clearly overtaxed. It made him feel very human, as his son's sea-green eyes flickered with pain for him.

"Return to camp," he insisted. "And tell Chiron it is time."

"For what?"

"You must hear the prophecy. The entire prophecy."

I didn't need to ask him which prophecy.

"You sure you don't Perce?" Jason said with a tired grin. "You've somehow managed to strangle an answer out of every one you've been there for, so unless there's some secret great prophecy you've been sitting on," he trailed off with a laugh, but he sounded exhausted, and he started rubbing at his temple like the joke was funnier to himself than he expected anyone else to get.

I'd been hearing about the "Great Prophecy" for years, but nobody would ever tell me the whole thing. All I knew was that I was supposed to make a decision that would decide the fate of the world—but no pressure.

"Which is weird because you work best under pressure," Magnus rolled his eyes. "Clearly you're at maximum power down here."

"Ha, ha, ha," Percy said dryly, though he smiled along as Annabeth chuckled for real.

"What if this is the decision?" I said. "Staying here to fight, or leaving? What if I leave and you . . ."

"You've already tried to convince yourself once in twenty-four hours what the decision was," Annabeth told him in exasperation. "It wasn't even your birthday yet!"

"You know I hate sitting around waiting for things," he groaned, "I once made the sewers back up standing around for a bus one winter I was so bored."

"You once threatened to eat your homework before you'd do it," she rolled her eyes. "Clearly you can successfully avoid whatever you want."

"I've never been able to avoid you because I've known you for years," he huffed, "clearly the timing is more important than a stupid grade."

"Oh, it's my fault?" Her brows went up, but her tone was quickly growing amused.

"You're the one who wouldn't shut up about me being the big Propechy kid when I first showed up," he needlessly reminded. "I wasn't even conscious and you were putting pressure on me about this!"

"How long can they go on like this?" Nico loudly stage whispered, almost going unheard under Annabeth's response.

"A while," Will and Thalia both sighed. She had the book though, so she finally reached across and began thwacking it between them like a teacher at a school dance preaching to leave room for Jesus.

They leaned back, both looking a little bashful they'd clearly forgotten anybody else in the room.

I couldn't say die. Gods weren't supposed to die, but I'd seen it happen. Even if they didn't die, they could be reduced to nearly nothing, exiled, imprisoned in the depths of Tartarus like Kronos had been.

For a horrifying moment Percy wondered if that's what had happened to his dad. If he was down here because some enemy had meant to trap Poseidon in some unescapable prison but snatched him instead. Percy didn't know how he'd get him out, but he'd try, at least as hard as he would for anybody else in his family.

"Percy, you must go," Poseidon insisted. "I don't know what your final decision will be, but your fight lies in the world above. If nothing else, you must warn your friends at camp. Kronos knew your plans. You have a spy. We will hold here. We have no choice."

He didn't have to win, he just had to give everything he had left, Percy frowned. It didn't seem like much of a choice to him.

Tyson gripped my hand desperately. "I will miss you, brother!"

Watching us, our father seemed to age another ten years. "Tyson, you have work to do as well, my son. They need you in the armory."

Tyson pouted some more.

"I will go," he sniffled. He hugged me so hard he almost cracked my ribs. "Percy, be careful! Do not let monsters kill you dead!"

"Only in Percy's line of work does he have to emphasize the dead part," Thalia said with a forced smile. "The rest of us, kill usually means dead, but nooo, Percy needs that clarification or he'll just pop up at his funeral again."

Percy chuckled because he knew that's what Thalia wanted, but it was a somber noise. She knew as well as he did, coming back from the brink of death didn't always feel like a victory.

I tried to nod confidently, but it was too much for the big guy. He sobbed and swam away toward the armory, where his cousins were fixing spears and swords.

"You should let him fight," I told my father. "He hates being stuck in the armory. Can't you tell?"

Poseidon shook his head. "It is bad enough I must send you into danger. Tyson is too young. I must protect him."

"You should trust him," I said. "Not try to protect him."

Thalia's wrist jiggled her bracelet around, the clinks of her chain going unnoticed as often as she readjusted herself. She wanted to fidget with it now, but couldn't with the book in hand. She had come the closest to parenting in this room, and while the others were all muttering in agreement with Percy, she got it. She looked at Annabeth, stiff lip and frustration on her face at another parent not trusting their child. Then she dared another look at Jason, who she hadn't been able to protect any better.

It hurt to wish for Luke, even for a second, to commiserate this feeling with, so her mind flipped easily to Grover. He'd fostered more kids than anyone taking them to camp. He'd found that perfect balance to strike between trusting them and protecting them.

Her hesitation had been brief enough nobody noticed the pause except the small clicking of her bracelet.

Poseidon's eyes flared. I thought I'd gone too far, but then he looked down at the mosaic and his shoulders sagged. On the tiles, the mermaid guy in the crawfish chariot was coming closer to the palace.

"Oceanus approaches," my father said. "I must meet him in battle."

"After you and Tyson are safely out of the way, huh?" Magnus asked with a sad smile. It had been a long time since he'd gotten even a hint of what a protective parent was willing to do, though he still remembered every day. "Coincidence? I think not!"

Percy wasn't very impressed by his joke any more than his dad. He'd already done the impossible four times over, all he was asking was his dad to trust him like Paul and his mom did.

I'd never been scared for a god before, but I didn't see how my dad could face this Titan and win.

A horrible thought struck Percy. What if he hadn't? What if that was why his dad hadn't made contact this whole time? Oceanus had said Poseidon had stepped in, but that easily could have been a lie to gain his trust.

While listening to all of this, Annabeth's mind had still been whirling and connecting and cutting at least a hundred plans and ideas now for what could be going on as well, and she had her suspicions while looking at Jason why her own prayers, why everybody's prayers at camp weren't going well. She reached gently today, expecting Percy to jump as her fingers graced his wrist, but he merely breathed a sigh of relief and looked around at her with worried eyes. She squeezed, just there, and he smiled and nodded as Thalia kept going.

"I will hold," Poseidon promised. "I will not give up my domain. Just tell me, Percy, do you still have the birthday gift I gave you last summer?"

I nodded and pulled out my camp necklace. It had a bead for every summer I'd been at Camp HalfBlood, but since last year I'd also kept a sand dollar on the cord. My father had given it to me for my fifteenth birthday. He'd told me I would know when to "spend it," but so far I hadn't figured out what he meant. All I knew was that it didn't fit the vending machines in the school cafeteria.

Which at least got the others to all crack up again. Percy grinned unabashedly and looked exaggeratedly down at his necklace that housed no such thing and said, "hey, maybe I finally got someone to trade me for a hotdog with everything on it?"

"I want to know which snack you found so tempting you tried in the first place?" Alex grinned.

"Bag of Cheez-Its, I had a craving," Percy shrugged.

"I had you as more of a goldfish kind of guy," Alex admitted.

"I'm loyal to no snackage," Percy scoffed.

"Well at least I know he'll never call my cousin a snack," Magnus muttered, causing Alex to laugh raucously and Thalia to read loudly before anybody asked what he'd said.

"The time is coming," he promised. "With luck, I will see you for your birthday next week, and we will have a proper celebration."

"A party that will make all previous parties seem lame." Will chuckled, but more because Percy didn't understand the joke. At camp, whenever someone managed to live long enough to turn eighteen, they all petitioned on the best way to get Apollo to throw a massive blow-out party. It never worked.

He smiled, and for a moment I saw the old light in his eyes.

Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll through the armies below us.

"That retired old fart could cause all of that?" Percy said in disbelief.

"Guess we just got a hint of how he's hiding us from the gods," Annabeth agreed in a quieter murmur, more of awe. "If he and Poseidon combined their powers..." she trailed off with a smile.

Percy didn't think it was all that cracked up a skill. He'd never voluntarily hidden from a fight, his dad knew that about him, so this forced protection once again wasn't any more well received.

"I must assume my true godly form," Poseidon said. "Go—and good luck, my son."

I wanted to encourage him, to hug him or something, but knew better than to stick around. When a god assumes his true form, the power is so great that any mortal looking on him will disintegrate.

"I bet Jason would try to hug a god in their true form!" Percy smirked.

"You're the one impulsive enough to try, nutjob!" Jason yelped, but there was a faint hint of embracement surrounding him like the thought had crossed his mind to see if he could get his hands on some.

"I bet you'd just stand there and try to ask the blobby gold thing killing you a million questions while wanting to hug it and-" Percy kept going with a grin until a strong gust of wind nearly knocked him out of his beanbag.

Annabeth caught him, while Jason threw his hands up, "hey, I didn't, or I, I swear I-"

"Pssht," Thalia said without looking up from the books, then added a theatrical, "shhh, reading."

Annabeth gave Thalia a serious look, a lecture on her lips about how they were supposed to be keeping their powers to a minimum to appease the Titan!, but Thalia was ignoring her and Jason's conflicted look all at once quite well.

"Good-bye, Father," I managed.

Then I turned away. I willed the ocean currents to aid me. Water swirled around me, and I shot toward the surface at speeds that would've caused any normal human to pop like a balloon.

When I looked back, all I could see were flashes of green and blue as my father fought the Titan, and the sea itself was torn apart by the two armies.

"Full circle much," Nico said as he got to his feet, his black boots and jacket making his features seem to be floating in the faint darkness of the room unless Annabeth focused on him directly.

Then she shivered in agreement. If it wasn't Zeus and Poseidon trying to rip the world apart it was this. Why was Percy always at the center of these things?

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase #Magnus Chase #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #alex fierro #nico di angelo #will solace #hoo #percabeth #solangelo #fierrochase

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writersmacchiato · 2 years

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come around | edmund pevensie x reader

pairing: edmund pevensie x reader

summary: edmund frequents a bookstore and meets a particular customer.

. . .

edmund didn't know when he became aware of your presence.

the moment was unexpected and happened in such a whirl, he felt dazed. the memory hazy and floating away. but it was such a bizarre event that he knew his own imagination could not have made it up.

it was a slow afternoon, clouds lazily drifted over the sun. there was hardly a breeze in the air.

the bookstore was void of any other patron, only him and the owner. it wasn't normally busy but it was quiet even for the shop.

there was a chime over the door and it let out a sweet ring as it opened and you walked in.

you smiled at the owner, an older gentleman named henry, and began small talk about the weather and then his family. you spoke with ease, as if you'd spoken to him a million times. and judging from henry's smile, you probably had.

after a beat of silence, you moved into the aisles of books with familiarity. and edmund can't help but wonder why he had never seen you before. it was clear you came here regularly, probably more than him.

"hi, i'm y/n."

edmund was taken off guard to see you appear so quickly beside him, quietly moving through the room.

"i'm edmund."

he was surprised that you seemed to be looking intently at the section he was in. mysteries didn't seem to be your type.

"my friend recommend that i try a new genre because i'm bored with the one i normally read but they all look the same to me, if i'm being honest." you said, fingers tracing a book's spine before drifting back to your side.

"you should give Henry Heard a try. i've enjoyed his books. start with 'a taste for honey'." edmund finds the yellow book with a skull and a bee on the cover.

you take it from him, reading the first page quickly, before turning the page again.

"i'm already intrigued!" you smile at edmund, looking into his eyes. "i'll check this out, thank you edmund."

"it's no problem."

"i'll see you around."

with a little wave, you're off. checking out the book and bidding henry goodbye.

edmund can't help but hope that he'd see you around soon.

. . .

it had been a week since edmund last saw you. he had been back to the bookstore only once before today, but there was no sign of you.

he told himself it was only coincidence that he happened to be back on the same day around the same time as the last time. but he knew that it was intentional.

henry was behind the counter, a newspaper spread out. he nodded at edmund when he came in, the chime ringing as it always did. there appeared to be no one else inside, yet again.

he allowed himself to wander over to the mystery section, seeing the section for H.F. Heard and the spot where the yellow book had once been. it was part of a series, though it didn't truly matter what order they were read in.

"you beat me to it."

his heart skips a beat.

"i was hoping there would be another book because i loved the one you recommended. thank you, by the way." you said, looking completely nonplussed while he tries to steady his heartbeat.

"i'm glad you liked it." edmund paused. "it is a bit nerve-racking to recommend a book to someone. particularly to strangers."

"well, we're not strangers, are we edmund?" you grinned. "in fact, you passed the test. i enjoyed a book you recommended, thus i can trust you have good opinion."

"passed the test?" edmund was floored.

"well, not really. i might have picked the book out on my own but you happened to be here on a day that i don't normally visit and set into the motion my discovery of Henry Heard. so, naturally i have to believe that we met for a reason."

"that does seem coincidental." edmund said.

"i don't believe in coincidences. we met for a reason and i do believe that." you said impassioned.

"so, edmund, stranger from the bookstore, will you accompany me to the cafe on the corner for a cup of tea and we can acquaint ourselves?"

"yes, y/n, i would be delighted."

. . .

#its my dream to meet a cute and dreamy dark haired love interest at a bookstore who becomes obsessed w me but not in a joe from you way #yo is this gooD??????????#i havent written written in literal months lol #will i post this??????!!!!!??????/ idk!!!!!!!#im nervous!! its been so long #edmund pevensie #narnia #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia x reader

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 2 months

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🦇 The Last Love Song Book Review 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's your favorite love song?❓ 🦇 After graduating, Mia Peters is given a letter from her late mother, country music star Tori Rose — the woman who left the small town of Sunset Cove to pursue her dream. That first letter sends her on a scavenger hunt across town to find more, each one like a puzzle piece, adding to the hazy image Mia has of the woman behind hit albums and fame. Each letter brings Mia closer to her mother, but further away from her best friend and sort-of-girlfriend Britt, who is leaving in a few days to pursue the same dream. Can Mia unravel her mother's past, face her present, and decide on a future outside of Sunset Cove? Or will the truth leave her disappointed and trapped in the small town her mother left behind?

💜 Kalie Holford does a stunning job at sparking vivacious life into Tori Rose through letters and journal entries. You experience the magnetism everyone in Sunset Cove once did, and understand why the entire town reveres her. Readers are bound to connect and empathize with both Tori and her daughter Mia in this dual POV/dual timeline story. Reading it, I was instantly tugged back to 2005, at the memory of reading Maureen Johnson's 13 Little Blue Envelopes. There's such exquisite balance between the past and present in this story, Tori's puzzle-pieced past simultaneously soothing Mia's concerns about leaving Sunset Cove while adding to them — a reminder that your choices and mistakes MUST be your own.

💜 That beautiful balance creates parallels between Mia's story and her mother's. We even see parallels between Mia and her unknown father. Both run away, fear being brave or taking a risk, and it holds them back from their true potential. Mia is so eager NOT to repeat her mother's history that she second-guesses herself constantly, afraid to make her own mistakes. Mia not only learns from her mother's journal entries, but also the lives she touched — proving the domino effect we can have on another person's lives. At the end, though...it's also a story about regret. We aren't our mistakes, but what we learn from them. It's a story about growth after the fact.

💜 "I will never regret chasing my dream. I regret the people I hurt. I regret the bridges I burned. I regret losing who I was in an attempt to find someone else in everyone else and within me."

💜 The lyrics from Mia's music AND her mothers add an extra layer to this story. For the record, I did cry (reading the story's literal Last Long Song), so if you're sappy like me, have tissues at the ready.

💙 Holford beautifully encapsulates that pivitol "coming-of-age" moment that empowers any YA story. The best friends to lovers aspect is messy, realistic, and pure; a series of stolen, secret kisses, failed relationships with others in between, the fear of either ruining or losing an unspoken love story. You'll root for Mia and Britt, cry at Mia's side, and feel full of hope by the end of it all. Also, Mia's grandmothers? They are everything.

🦇 This is a powerful, atmospheric debut that's bursting with heart and soul. Recommended for fans of Sadie, 13 Little Blue Envelopes, and Mama Mia. And, beyond a doubt, all you Swifties.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🎵 Bisexual FMC 🎶 Sapphic Romance / Best Friends to Lovers 🎵 Lyrics 🎶 Mother/Daughter 🎵 Dual POV 🎶 Dual Timeline 🎵 Grief & Self-Discovery 🎶 Contemporary YA 🎵 Debut

🦇 Major thanks to the author @kalieholford and publisher @blackstonepublishing for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.

💬 Quotes ❝ All my life I’ve collected pieces of Tori Rose like breadcrumbs, lyrics like talismans, stories like safety nets. ❞ ❝ "Really think about it without the fear and the lies and the telling yourself you can’t have it.” ❞ ❝ “You’re going to be a star, you know that, right?” She shakes her head. “Stars burn out. I want to be my own goddamn galaxy.” ❞ ❝ She’s the personification of a love song, and I can’t get her out of my head. ❞ ❝ The world raises girls to be competitors not constellations. ❞ ❝ We burst and we break. We are dichotomies and paradoxes and lies and happily never afters. We are an ending that wants to be a beginning and a beginning that never got to start quite right. We are everything and she is everything and only I know that I truly wish I could go with her. ❞

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cheeto-flavoured-pasta · 6 days

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Writeblr Intro, Part Two

Fuck yeah, I’m doing this again, because the other one sucked.

As the URL says, I’m cheeto-flavoured-pasta. Or just Cheeto. Or Pasta. I really don’t care. This was meant to be a strict writeblr-only, but I ditched it halfway through. This is a writeblr account, sure, but I do post/reblog other off-topic things (e.g. memes, rants, politics, etc.). Most of those are tagged under “not writeblr.”

I’m a hobbyist writer hoping to publish officially one day. I’ve hopped around online writing platforms (e.g Tapas or Webnovel; I am very hesitant about using Wattpad, sorry) but currently I’m not very active on many of them. I mostly write science fiction, dystopia (a mix of the two, really), with a side of some fantasy or contemporary works. Genre fiction aside, I occasionally dabble in poetry, be it free-verse, rhyming, or prose poems.

*WIP List Under The Cut!*

APS [A Powerful Secret]

Genre: Sci-fiction, dystopia, speculative trilogy

Current status: On Break

General Concept: After decades of hiding, superhumans are discovered in a corrupt society.

I’ve talked about this one the most, so I won’t babble for long; most of the info can be found on the APS WIP intro. It’s been my longest-running WIP so far, being a trilogy and all, but I’m currently putting it on the backburner for a while to work on other projects.

Running on Augments

Genre: Sci-fi, dystopia, cyberpunk series

Current status: First draft

General Concept [Book One]: It's been a year since Sylvester Strike woke up in the society of Xenom, where people are augmented cybernetically to accommodate to the work they do for the large companies that run the state — the Reform, everyone calls it. Much like everyone else, his memories are hazy, and all he can trust is the story of whatever government official came before him. The moment he tries to move on and accept his situation, his friend goes missing, and in the process, he’s forced to find out not only the real story of what happened before the Reform, but his own past as well.

I haven’t talked about this one at all, and that’s because there’s still some things left to this idea that I’ve yet to flesh out. Expect to hear a lot more about it once I’ve actually started writing it. I’ll definitely be making a WIP intro at some point in the coming months (hopefully. If I forget, show up to my door and slap me).

Aside from my mess of writing and novels and short stories and whatever shit goes on in my brain, here’s some other things to know about this blog:

I might as well get this out of the way first: this blog is pro-Palestine. Zionists and pro-Israel users, please DNI.

Same goes for racists, sexists, TERFs/transphobes, homophobes, ableists--- bigots of any kind, really. I don't tolerate prejudice.

I'm open to tag and ask games, though do note that just because I don't respond to a tag or ask doesn't mean I don't care; it likely slipped my mind because I have the smooth brain of a koala's. :P

Writeblr asks like WBW, STS (Worldbuilding Wednesday and Storytelling Saturday) are also welcome, although I might not send them a lot. Trying to get back in the habit of doing so.

I might also post some of my art here on the occasion (using that dingy side blog doesn't really feel right for me). Still working up the courage to do that, but I might drop a few sketches here and there.

Other interests/fandoms: TLoZ (mostly the Breath of the Wild sequence but I swear I’m trying to play the older games), The Magnus Archives/Protocol, Welcome to Night Vale, Malevolent, fiction podcasts in general, really.

That about wraps up everything, I suppose! Thanks for reading, and enjoy your stay here :)

#writeblr #writeblr intro #blog intro #introduction #introduction post #pinned intro #writers on tumblr #writing community

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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How many heads are in a hat?

Check out my GitHub repo and leave a comment or issue if you see something that needs fixing!

It took me a while to understand the number theorists' notorious little joke. But it seems to me, once you see the trick, that it's a simple, elegant thing.

(There's a story about my great-uncle Simon, who I never met. He died long before I was born, and you'd think that sort of thing doesn't matter much, but I've always known that I would never meet him, which made me think about him. Maybe I'm a better person than I might have been, if I'd grown up with more of my parents' family, but maybe not. That's a story in itself.)

Uncle Simon was a physicist, but unlike almost all the physicists I've known, he spent a lot of time thinking about discrete systems. My dad's always been kind of proud of this, even though he was clearly not impressed when he would ask Simon questions and get only half-formed responses. When I was growing up, my parents would always make it sound like Simon had a sort of saintliness about him, or something: the way he was always quietly working, the way he was always reaching beyond the standard questions, without ever losing sight of the practical in favor of the theoretical, the way he never seemed to need to talk much, but would still always have something to contribute when he was pressed. He lived on a tiny pension from a university he'd worked at 50 years ago, and a pension from the centralized university that replaced it 30 years ago. It was a quiet life.

I never really knew him. At least, I don't think I ever knew him. But I did read his books, and went through his papers, whenever I got the chance. And I liked that he always had interesting things to say about n and n+1. He was clever enough, and patient enough, to find things you and I might never have thought of. Like that thing about the hats.

Simon would always be searching for new problems that could be framed in his way. I've always been impressed by that too. To be honest, I do the same thing: I take a problem I don't really understand, and I try to see if I can change the format of the problem so that I can understand it. Or, if I can't figure out a new format, I try to figure out the best way to summarize the relevant facts, so that I can be sure to carry those with me when I read the next thing. Mostly I work with number theory problems. That's the field I understand best.

A lot of researchers got into this game back when it was common for mathematicians to apply a bunch of different areas to one problem. These days, that's a lot less common. The distinction between fields, and "fields" and "disciplines," is pretty hazy. And, of course, you can get much more work done by focusing on fewer problems. But those of us who've grown up with interdisciplinarity still remember how it felt to be students, doing all kinds of things at once. And we always want to recapture that feeling of multifarious, unbridled possibility.

So anyway. One day a few years ago, I picked up this book of Simon's called Hats, Trees and Others. It's not his most famous book, and I don't know why I picked it up at the time. My memory is fuzzy; it might have been from a list in the back of some other book. The book was good, though. It was basically a masterclass in the art of trying to formalize real-world intuitions. The first chapter went through a bunch of really interesting ways of formalizing things that I would never have thought of.

The first chapter made me pretty excited. I was anxious to read more of this guy's work, and see what he could do. Of course, what he could do was painfully simplistic, once you've read more about the actual issues. But even when I was reading his stuff, I could always see his focus on both the forest and the trees. He always wrote about trees, sure, but he was also willing to see the forest. I'm not really sure what I mean by that: I guess he had a good sense of whether an idea was the sort of thing that would actually help you understand the world, or if it was just a fun toy for toy enthusiasts. And when you read his papers, you get the same sense of playful precision.

I'm not saying he had the right idea, necessarily. But he was willing to see the forest, as well as the trees.

The hardest part of writing is the first page. (What a cliché! Sorry, I'm trying to be pithy.) The reason is that by the time you're on page 100, you've got a good idea of what kind of story you're telling; you've made many decisions about how it will proceed; you have a whole bunch of references to build on. But in the first few pages, you're still thinking, "What's this story about? What question will the reader be most surprised by? What will they most want an answer to?"

There was some time I spent thinking about that question, in my earlier writing. (When you write fiction, it's a lot harder to stay focused on a given story without creating a lot of worlds and a lot of characters in your head. Actually, that's probably why I stopped writing fiction: I could never stop thinking about these creations.) But I always had trouble coming up with a single answer to the question, and usually settled for one that was, well, pithy. (As in my Cat and Kitten stories, which I think are really bad. Finding a "paradigmatic cat story" was easier than finding the right story. Or, as a friend of mine once said, joking around, "you should start a band called Paradigmatic Cat Story, and I will play drums." It was funny at the time. And then I started reading some 350-page online forum argument where every single poster was a decade-long participant, and the main thing they disagreed about was what you could call a paradigmatic cat story. Which was clearly a paradigmatically bad joke, and yet . . . )

Anyway, there is a type of feeling I find hard to describe -- but if I didn't try to describe it, who would? -- that happens when I read a piece of writing that gets it. The feeling is almost about . . . gentleness, I guess? Or maybe restraint? But it's also about the fact that the author understands that they are telling a story, and believes that they have something interesting to say. It's that combination of restraint, impishness, and . . . confidence? -- that makes that feeling so sweet.

The Count of Monte Cristo gets it. Of course The Count of Monte Cristo gets it -- the tones of The Count of Monte Cristo define the tones of that feeling. It's an epic novel. It's on that scale. But it's a story about a man who is written off by everyone, and yet who finds a way to change the world. It's often described as an epic romance, and on some level it is, but it's much more than that. It doesn't just romanticize the world, it's about a person who romanticizes the world himself. He sees what's wrong in the world, and he devises ways to fix it, and then he does so. It is a novel about someone who is kind enough to take responsibility for the world, while no one else will.

For me, when I read that book, for the first time, I felt I was reading an author who got it. I didn't know who he was. I knew the book was old, and I knew it was popular, and that's all. But, like I said, if I didn't try to describe, who would? In the face of that restraint, impishness, and confidence, I find myself believing. I don't always know what to believe, but I find myself believing.

Now, was that what Count of Monte Cristo was trying to do? I don't think so. But, like I said, tones don't have any natural referents in the real world. They only refer to themselves, and our perceptions of ourselves. So it's really hard to tell what a novel is actually about, I think. And who cares anyway? If you're a good storyteller, that's all that matters.

There are two ways I feel a novel is "about" something, and they're opposites. The first is when a story says, "here

#original fiction

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treesap-blogs · 1 year

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GUYS YOUR MAN IS BACK! WITH A REVIEW OF “THE HONEYS” BY RYAN LA SALA!

Hello, Tumblrians! It’s been a while. I thought I’d post more consistently due to it being my Spring Break time, but alas, I was fatigued and to be honest just needed a break. Even if I post once a week, I put a lot into reviewing everything! Yeah.

BUT! I read some bangers recently. I will get those out of the way first and foremost.

The Honeys is a 2022 horror novel by Ryan La Sala, following a genderfluid teen named Mars. (I’ll be addressing them with they/he/she pronouns this whole review btw, as the MC uses all of those pronounse.) His sister recently died a grisly death after running away from the prestigious summer academy she was attending, and although the uncharacteristic behavior and aggression in her final moments can be attributed to a tumor in her brain by doctors, Mars suggests there was some foul play involved. So, he goes back to the summer academy/camp in question: Aspen, a cisnormative, kinda cultish nightmare, which Mars swore they wouldn’t return to after an incident that happened years prior, but has to in order to investigate their sister’s death. There, they end up somehow befriending the local trio of popular girls: The Honeys, called that because of their beekeeping, are alluringly and suspiciously perfect girls with a pretty exclusive friend group that Caroline was part of right before she died. But, The Honeys are definitely not as they seem, and undoubtedly have a connection to Mars’ sister’s death. On top of that, in the daytime, something within the camp starts messing with Mars’ memories, and they need to get to the bottom of what exactly that is before it’s too late.

The Honeys holds a Book Backstory that, similar to Mars’ memory/POV for most of the book, is a little hazy to me now and I have a vague recollection of the series of events that led to this being something of high priority on my TBR. Maybe I just learned it was a queer horror and was intrigued based on the premise alone! But, my school library had this in its horror shelves, and I checked this one out along with Belladonna in order to clear off some of my Digital TBR. (I hadn’t gotten around to reading Belladonna yet with the Trans Rights Readathon going on, sorry.)

Anyhow! As only my second horror novel, this took a bit of adapting to, but halfway through I was expecting it to be tamer than it turned out. See, for a chunk of the novel, Mars lives in a bit of a haze and doesn’t have much recollection of their original investigation plan due to supernatural events, and as a result a third or so of this novel is summer camp shenanigans that are typical until a creepy event happens and gets shrugged off about 20 pages later. In that sense, it’s close to a slow burn psychological horror. So, if you’re expecting a lot of dead bodies and fear from our protagonist, just…know you��ll have to wait until the last 100 pages for more of that haha. Originally though, this kinda frustrated me because I disliked knowing more than the protagonist did when we technically knew about the same things at different points, but I liked how that part of the plot was wrapped up, and although I was critical of it at the time it makes a lot of sense in hindsight (I was just impatient and wanted a bloodbath I guess).

This also gave me a new interest, or I guess a new…buzzword…to look for in books and the like (collective crowd booing): Bee horror!!! I loved it so much. Bee horror isn’t really something new, I know, just look at Candyman for instance(and the new Amazon Prime series Swarm), but I just loved what they did with the body horror here. I loved the bits of bee research put into writing the apiary segments, the absolutely gross body horror we got (spoilers: people get TURNED INTO HONEY. Like, they melt and stuff!!), how the main hive mind was connected to everything and used actual beehive imagery in both metaphor and social structure. So cool. We love to see it.

Also, that ending!! No spoiler section for this review, but I will say that it’s absolutely BATSHIT!

Actually nevermind, changed my mind, WE’RE ADDING A SPOILER SECTION!!

SPOILER SECTION!! Buzz away if that’s not what you feel like reading or you want to go into this book blind.🐝

Ok!!! So. The ending. I was predicting that Mars would end up siding with the Honeys after they accepted them into their friend group, but I was absolutely not predicting the kind of scale or power their group had. The aforementioned “Hive Mind” was connected to the Honeys; they harvested honey from body-horroring some of the counselors into it, and they’d eat the honey to gain connection to this weird plane of reality called The Lace, which connects everyone’s minds together as one entity and makes them like..omnipresent or whatever. It’s so weird, I loved it.

Mars is forced to take on the leading role of Queen Bee, since his sister’s biology and stuff didn’t work with the literal throne and the stuff that came with that, and his parents are insistent about one of their bloodline taking on the title. To have this be put onto a transfemme character, after Aspen’s higher-ups were insistent about them remaining a “boy”, was fascinating to me. I’d have to do more lengthy analysis to properly dissect this, but to have Mars turn against the adult higher-ups while she’s Queen Bee felt like a way of reclaiming that as a means of affirming her identity and gender. (I mean, she’s presented femme throughout the book but that’s one of the only times they’re addressed with she/her pronouns by their parents, and Mars, while they were terrified of the Honeys themselves for a chunk of the ending, doesn’t have any discomfort in how they’re addressed gender-wise once they take on this role and it’s abilities.) Maybe that scene could be enough to convince a few girlies that, by the end, this could probably be a “Good For Her” horror, although it gets a little sketchy once we look into dissecting that? Just looking into the morals and stuff of The Honeys and how they fucked around with memories, will a little bit, and all that. (Not that Mars sides with that or decides to replicate it, even with their new abilities.)

But, I really liked the ending. I’m glad Mars got to get their revenge. It did feel a little “Good For Her”-y.

I do really want to do some analysis on it at some point though because I was thinking about some of the subtext within it and was, again, fascinated. Perhaps I’ll do a reread at some point, see if I liked things more or less, see if there’s anything I missed.

END OF SPOILER SECTION! (There was a flimsy Baby’s First Analysis y’all were not missing out if you skipped)

TL;DR(or TS;DR)(Too Spoilery, Didn’t Read), the ending was delightfully trippy and I tried my hand at dissecting some of the gender subtext within it.

Overall, a solid read! I was a little frustrated at the slowness sometimes, but that paid off in the end and I liked how everything wrapped up. I will always LOVE queer horror, especially stuff with trans protagonists 💪

Book rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5 stars.

~Paz, signing off! ^^

(Book content/trigger warnings: Body horror, loss of autonomy(memory altercation), transphobic and homophobic bullying, frequent insects, blood and gore.)

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arielle-stretching · 2 years

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Goodbye, Tree

Have you ever thought about the sound of a falling tree? It starts with a cracking noise, like the anticipatory claps of thunder preceded by a loud boom. It takes a while for your brain to register that this is the sound of wood breaking. Then, the rattling of leaves and a loud whoosh fills the air. The sound that follows is an anticlimactic grand finale: a muffled boom whose force you can feel under your feet and in your chest–the last cry of the once upright tree finally hitting the earth, fed through a microphone whose only output is a subwoofer.

The fallen tree grew on a large, empty lot behind our house. The lot resembled a tiny forest, complete with verdant undergrowth covering the ground. Sitting in the backseat, on the way to Catholic elementary school, the sun’s rays would pierce through the leaves of the trees just so. The whole scene looked like it could be the cover of a prayer book. This is what Teacher meant, I would think to myself, when she said that God was everywhere.

I grew up away from a lot of noise and light pollution common in more dense areas of Manila. You can imagine how this backdrop casts a hazy, rose-colored tint on my childhood memories.

Our subdivision’s placement is deep in a residential part of Quezon City, on a hill 30-minutes away from La Mesa Dam. I became curious about the natural world. As kids, my Kuya and I were given a telescope to look at planets. Evening skies would be so clear I could identify several constellations just sitting at the top of our slide, craning my neck upwards.

As a child everything to me was big, and I was little. I had hoped to grow out of it, that one day I would be big too, and things wouldn’t feel so large in comparison to my short limbs, my kid brain, and the constraints of bedtime. I thought this was the pinnacle of adulthood: the world would feel smaller, and therefore easily comprehensible. I’m not sure if I’ve reached that point in my life yet.

Something else you should know: I have lived in the same house all my life; to this day waking, working, and dreaming in the childhood bedroom where I learned how to speak my first words.

—

IC Jaucian’s work for CCP Thirteen Artists Awards 2021 entitled Bon Bon Voyage tickles the kid version of myself who so desperately wanted to be an astronaut. Onto a piece of hard candy the artist duplicated Voyager’s Golden Records: a NASA project compiling the sounds of Earth on a solid gold LP, launching it into space hoping that it would reach intelligent, alien life. The candy record is playable, by the way, the warbling of indigenous music and whale sounds echoing throughout CCP’s gallery space.

The choice to fashion the record out of candy is meant to be a critique of NASA’s project, a reminder that this collection of images, greetings, and sounds are not meant to be an “enduring ambassador of earth… for billions of years across the cosmos”. The artist also reminds us of the “colonial undertones” of these records, an interpretation I had never encountered, and therefore loved, struck by how the world had seemed to grow larger before my eyes at the realization.

While we strive to read and engage critically with art, I think it’s worth thinking about how this act allows us a glimpse into our own thought patterns, seeing the moment of synapse take shape. IC Jaucian’s work makes me think about taking a gander at the void. When I first learned about the Golden Record project as a teenager, I could relate to its audacity and romance–the lonely planet Earth singing hymns to the darkness, hoping that someone would sing back.

I understand what worship means in the religious sense when faced with expanse: outerspace, ocean depths, mountainous terrain on tropical archipelagos, slowly rising from the sea after millions of years. Wonder is where I find it easiest to encounter the divine.

—

I had woken up late one morning, feeling out of it after coming home from a trip with friends. My brother and I passed each other at the top landing of the stairs; he was in scrubs, ready to head to the hospital while I was still in my oversized sleep shirt. The neighbors are building something on the lot, he said, gaze pointed at the window by the landing, a clear view of the empty lot before us. He and I lamented the loss of the quiet little forest behind the house. I returned to my bedroom and faintly registered the sound of a chainsaw through the thick walls of my exhaustion.

For the next few days, I was in close proximity to the destruction of this tiny forest. A young mahogany, and two bangkal trees almost as tall as our house were a few of the casualties. My rage, which prompted me to consider demanding our neighbors for DENR permits, fizzled into helplessness (they were a family of politicians), which eventually gave way to weepiness. The trees had already been cut. I shed tears when the enormous trunk of the bangkal was axed into smaller pieces. I thought of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, of something that had once stood tall being rendered into nothing, how the act of claiming and transforming can be violent, and felt very small. The natural world in its vastness were my first encounters with being humbled by something much larger than myself. I mourned the trees because I felt the sense of wonder I had attached to them as a young girl being taken from me. I have no conclusion, no silver lining. There is only a chasm; a soft, pulsating void that is shrinking. I see myself as I am, and who I was as a child merging–I am telling her: this is how it is. Wonder makes you feel small, but so does loss.

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yourbestpalpercy · 18 days

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Fuck it

Have some pure Operator and Tartar trivia because I randomly thought of a whole lot of trivia. + Some bonus Everest trivia because she’s my favorite.

To start this off, how about some Tartar trivia!

* When all of humanity went extinct, Tartar retreated into the professor’s lab and set up base before it went out and started collecting up every game, book, movie, every kind of media it possibly could find. He even pirate- bought every online game, book, and movie he could. They did avoid online and multiplayer only games for obvious reasons. And before anyone can ask the haha, funny, unhinged question; yes, Tartar did in fact break into houses and other living quarters to make sure it got everything it possibly could get to keep itself entertained for the isolation it had already predicted it would go through. When Tartar ran out of things to do (which took forever), he started making sequels and giving endings to things that were left on cliffhangers. No, this did not stop Tartar from going crazy in isolation, it only helped them ignore it.

* When Tartar did all of that, it started replaying them and fully completing them. Eventually, when there was nothing else to do, he started watching the world change around him.

* So basically, the Resurgence AU Tartar is a gamer.

*Seriously, they will ramble about the things they did during that isolation period if you ask about them.

* I think Tartar liked the Halo games, the Bioshock games, and a few others but it doesn’t like the lore of Bioshock 1 and 2 (It reminds Tartar of Alterna and the professor) but it adores Bioshock Infinite, the lore that it knows doesn’t remind it of its isolation.

* Off page, Everest did once come across the room that Tartar stayed in and got curious. She started going through everything and collected up the things she found interesting (Wings of Fire, Warriors, mostly just books really). One day, Tartar passed by her room and found her reading Wings of Fire (I like to believe that Everest is a huge fan of the series. She loves dragons! Notably though, her least favorite tribe is SeaWings) and had a jolt of shock go through him before asking her where she got the book. Everest admitted and Tartar explained before leaving her alone, absolutely ecstatic that Everest discovered one of the many things he had from the time of the old humans.

Operator time!

* After Tartar’s reset, while yes, Operator did keep a lot of information about humanity and also (albeit now hazy) memories about its isolation, a lot of the older information about humans was erased thanks to the reset.

* He remembers a lot of the games he played during that isolation and after the reset, Everest found herself back in that room when she discovered Bioshock. Operator remembers the game’s contents and refuses to let Everest play because it’s graphic. Everest came up with a plan and dug out a different game, pretending to have interest in it. Operator was skeptical but eventually helped Everest fix and get the console working. Everest played the game she claimed to be interested in for just an hour (Operator was watching her) before putting in Bioshock Infinite the second Operator stopped watching her. Eventually, Everest got to the point where everything goes downhill and she pauses the game immediately after the scene. Operator reenters the room to find Everest crying, curled up on the ground. It’s immediately clear to him that Everest is having a traumatic flashback to her times in the cult. Operator looked at the game (Bioshock Infinite) which gave him a huge clue on what was going on because he remembered the contents of Bioshock Infinite. Operator begins to comfort Everest and soon puts in a different game. Once Everest is snapped back to reality, Operator gets her to start playing a game they would both enjoy and it’s honestly just a sweet scene of Operator comforting Everest.

#commander tartar #tartar splatoon #splatoon tartar #splatoon #splatoon oc #splatoon au #oc trivia

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mumms-the-word · 4 months

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Devil's Deal

Day 22 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

Today's a long one (which is why it's late). If you've been keeping up with my fics, then you'll know that Invi's name is not actually her name. It's a name she created in a pinch after waking up on the ravaged beach. After witnessing at least one successful deal with Raphael, however, she begins to wonder if he might be able to help her out...

Also, once the month is over, I'm going to rearrange my masterlist so you can read each Tav's fics in order of events that happen in the game, so you can go from fic to fic more like a cohesive story than a bunch of different scenes.

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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22. Tav/Durge has to give up something (anything) important to them

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Invi paced the spare room in Last Light Inn, restless. The shadow-cursed lands and Moonrise had proven enlightening for many of them, but it had left Invi with far more questions than answers. People inside Moonrise recognized her, while she had no concept of who any of them were. Ketheric had treated her as though she’d been a mad dog formerly in his service, yet she had no memory of ever meeting him. She clearly had been here before, but her memory remained one yawning, dark chasm in her mind.

And then there was her butler. Sceleritas Fel. No one else had a butler, but then again, no one else was fighting with urges in their head urging them to kill and maim and slaughter. These days it took all of Invi’s energy to resist. She’d very nearly killed Astarion one night, and even then details of that night were hazy because the urge had taken over. Her butler had been very disappointed in her failure to kill him, and her failure to kill Isobel, the kind Selûnite cleric at Last Light. It was getting harder and harder to resist.

She could make sense of none of it and her butler refused to be forthcoming with details of her past. Who was she, that she had been to these shadow-cursed lands before, that she was someone who had done such horrible things in her past? If she could only have one memory restored…

But then, that’s why she had invited Raphael back to Last Light. After resolving his deal with Astarion, killing the orthon Yurgir in exchange for Raphael translating the scars on Astarion’s back, Invi had asked him to return another night.

She had another deal to make.

She wasn’t alone in the room, at least. Astarion reclined on the bed, watching her pace restlessly, his scarlet gaze following her from one side of the room to the other. When she turned to pace back to where she’d begun, he heaved a sigh.

“My dear, wearing a hole in the floorboards won’t get him here any faster.”

“I know that,” she said. “I just wish he would hurry up instead of playing these games.”

She stopped pacing, her hand absently fiddling with her pendant, as it often did. She ran her thumb over the letters on one side. N.V. The initials she had used to create her name. The letters that had formed the first part of her new identity. She still had no idea what those initials stood for, or even if they belonged to her. Was this pendant a trinket that she’d taken off the body of one of her victims? Did it belong to someone she had known before? She had no way of knowing.

She recalled, with a churning stomach, the one memory that had been restored to her when she had eaten a piece of noblestalk mushroom. The sight of her vivisecting a victim, her blade cutting cleanly into the flesh even as the person lay screaming, her butler at her side. Around her sat jars of pickled specimens and books with her drawings, her notes. She shuddered, even as part of her mind yearned to linger on the image, to try and force the sketches and notes into focus, searching with a scientist’s curiosity. She pushed the memory aside, clutching tightly to her pendant.

Whoever she was in the past, she must have been a horror. Did she truly want to know? If she made this deal with Raphael for one of her memories, would she regret it?

Just as the question sprang to her mind, she heard the telltale sound of a devil appearing in a whorl of hellfire behind her.

Too late to turn back now.

“Ah, there she is. The violent little sorceress with a penchant for murder. How amusing it is to see you so restless, my dear.”

She turned, already regretting her decision to invite Raphael back to Last Light. At least Astarion was with her in the room, standing up from the bed to be at the ready, and the Harpers could be called in with a single shout.

Not that it would come to a fight. That wasn’t how Raphael operated.

He was seated in an armchair on the far side of the room, legs crossed, a goblet in his hand. He swirled the goblet’s contents slowly as he regarded her with his telltale smirk. Like a cat watching a mouse approach its claws.

But Invi refused to feel intimidated. She lifted her chin and matched his stare with a cool, imperious look. She refused to let him see the anxiety churning in her gut.

“How gracious of you to finally pay us a visit, devil,” she said.

“But of course. You piqued my interest, requesting this little meeting so soon after I had already helped your little vampire friend.” Raphael’s eyes flicked to Astarion before turning back to Invi. “So tell me. What is it that you desire?”

This was it. Time to negotiate.

“I want my memories restored.”

Raphael arched an eyebrow, interested. “I see. All of them?”

Invi hesitated a fraction too long. “Yes.”

“An ambitious request.” Raphael’s smirk told her that he had noticed her hesitation. Nothing escaped his notice, it seemed. “Such an act would cost you a great deal, you realize. And you’ve already made it clear that your soul is not on offer. What do you expect to pay me in return?”

“Surely you have other devils out here in the world that need returning to the hells,” Invi said. “Other monsters that need slain.”

“If I did, you wouldn’t be my first choice in dispatching them. The arrangement with Yurgir was simply…convenient. You were already headed in that direction, after all.”

Invi struggled to keep her irritation off her face. “Fine. Then what would you suggest, devil?”

“Hmm…” He cocked his head to one side, his eyes roving slowly from the toes of her boots up to the crown of her head. She saw them linger around her throat, realizing too late that she had forgotten to tuck her pendant back under her robes.

The pendant seemed to draw his attention. He smirked faintly and stood with affected grace, sauntering over to stand right in front of her. She held her ground, even as he lifted the pendant with the tips of his fingers, regarding it with smooth curiosity.

“Watch where you put your hands, devil,” Astarion warned. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shift his stance, hands conveniently closer to his blades. Raphael ignored him as if he weren’t even present in the room.

“You don’t even know who this belongs to, do you?” he asked, flipping the pendant over to show the initials on the other side. “Is it your own, or merely the rubbish left over from one of your victims? Does it have any meaning at all?” He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Invi clenched her teeth together, refusing to be intimidated or hurt. She merely lifted her chin a fraction higher, trying not to breathe too much lest any part of her body touch his hand, even accidentally.

“N.V.,” he crooned. “That is what they call you, isn’t it? Your…friends. Invi. It would be a charming name, were it not false.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You know my name?”

“Perhaps,” he said. His smile spoke of some small triumph and he took a step back, letting the pendant fall back onto her chest. “Does that knowledge interest you?”

Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Did she want to know her true name? For two months now she had been Invi, the storm sorceress who tried desperately to do right and resist the violent voices in her head. It was the only name and identity she had. But if her former identity was restored to her…would she be changed? Would she become who she had been in the past?

She could feel Astarion’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare look at him. They both knew the danger she was facing. Perhaps on some level he understood more than she did.

Raphael’s sipped from his goblet, his eyes locked on her. His smile as he lowered the glass was cold and calculating, a mask that hid his thoughts but taunted her nonetheless. He dismissed the goblet with a wave of his hand and a puff of smoke and then joined the tips of his fingers together in a little cage in front of him.

“Here is my offer, little sorceress,” he said. “You give me one name in exchange for another. Give me your pendant, and I will restore one memory to you.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. She clutched her pendant in her hand, the weight of the silver familiar and comforting. Give it up, for one memory? No, there had to be more to it than that. What did Raphael want a trinket for?

“Tell me the full terms, Raphael,” she said. “It’s not just the necklace you want.”

He chuckled. “Isn’t it? It’s a lovely bit of silver. And I do so love to collect lovely things.”

“The full terms, or there will be no deal.”

He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. “This is what comes of making too many deals with the same people. Everyone becomes so skeptical.”

“Stop stalling, devil,” Astarion said. “Just get to the gloating part already.”

Raphael clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. “Very well. Here are my terms. I will restore one memory to you, little sorceress, one in which someone, you may not immediately know who, says your original name. Your true name. In return, you will give me your new name, along with that little pendant of yours.”

“You mean the name Invi,” she said. “It would be yours? You would own it?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t have any need for it any longer, after all, would you? You will have your original name back.”

It sounded too easy. Invi sensed that if she accepted the terms of this deal, she was handing over more than a necklace and a name. Even if Invi wasn’t her “true” name, names had power. If Raphael owned “Invi,” how much compulsion would he have over her? He wouldn’t be able to command her at will, she was certain, but that didn’t mean she would walk away unscathed.

She looked down at the pendant in her hand, running her thumb first over the carved knot pattern on one side before flipping it over to see the initials on the other side.

How much was this memory worth to her? To know who she was before waking up on the nautiloid? Of course she wouldn't be able to choose her memory. That was the catch. She would be handing over the necklace and name on the chance that the memory he restored would be helpful, illuminating in some way. But what if it is wasn't? What if it only brought her more pain?

She wished she could ask all her companions, seek their guidance as she often did, but the clock was ticking, and Raphael was already beginning to examine his nails in a show of feigned impatience.

“Quickly, my dear,” he said. “I am a very busy man.”

Invi looked at Astarion, uncertain, only to be met with equal uncertainty in his gaze. He gave a subtle shake of his head, but she couldn’t tell if it was him trying to dissuade her or him saying he didn’t know how to advise her.

“One more minute until I have to go,” Raphael said, his smirk turning cruel. “I won’t be so easily found again, you know.”

“Wait,” Invi said. “My pendant, my name, in exchange for a memory of my original identity. That’s what you said, right?”

He neither nodded nor affirmed her words. He merely waited, slowly rubbing his thumb against the curve of his perfectly manicured nails.

Invi took a deep breath and nodded. “I accept.”

Raphael grinned, his teeth like eerie pearls behind his curved lips. “Good.”

He flicked his hand and the pendant around Invi’s neck lifted from her chest, the silver glowing faintly with a red hue. The clasp at the back unlatched and the necklace floated away from her to hover gently over Raphael’s open palm. She saw the letters N.V. illuminated in red as it slowly turned in the air.

“As promised, one memory in exchange for a name,” Raphael said. “But don’t forget. Your name is now mine, Invi.”

She felt infernal power settle over her as he spoke her name, soaking into her skin, her muscles, her sinews. She had full control over herself, but there was something else there, too. Another force to resist, though this one was weaker than her dark urges. The infernal touch was little more than a threat, but even so, the message was clear.

Raphael did indeed have some control over her now.

Suddenly she felt this was a very, very big mistake.

Raphael let the necklace drop into his waiting palm and closed his fingers over it. With a small, mocking bow he snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash of hellfire and smoke.

In the same instance, her mind flared with searing pain that buckled her knees and left her gasping on the floor. Distantly she heard Astarion shout her name, but his voice soon faded from her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, only to be dragged forcefully into a vision.

No. A memory.

She opened her eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar room, her naked body curled around and beneath crumpled sheets. Across the room, a tall, well-built man with dark, shaggy hair stood in front of a desk, his back to her. He wore nothing but his trousers, his feet bare on the wooden floors. In the hazy moonlight streaming in through the windows and the flickering light of a single candle on the desk, she could see a pattern of scars across his back—old, crossing lash marks.

She rose from the bed, reaching for a thin dark robe that she, the voyeur looking back, wasn’t even sure was her own. She slipped it on over her shoulders, leaving the robe loose as she crossed the room to stand beside the man whose face she still couldn’t see.

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, not affectionately, but merely as though the man’s body were a convenient place to rest her head as she gazed down at the surface of the desk. Books, letters, and sketches were organized in neat stacks on the desk, though a few stray notes and sketches lay haphazardly here and there. The man held one sketch in his hand, studying it intently.

She felt him turn his head, but she kept her eyes on the desk as he spoke. “Ah, you’re awake. I was just thinking how unlike you it is to have a messy desk like this. I came to tidy up as you were sleeping.”

“You came to snoop, you mean,” she heard her own voice say. The voyeur from the future seemed to fade with each passing breath, until she was there, reliving the memory as though it were all one and the same.

The man chuckled, finally setting down the sketch. It was a detailed anatomical drawing of a skeleton and nervous system, the blue ink of the bones overlaid with the red ink of the nerves. On the side, a sketch of a brain with a long stem of nerves along the spinal cord. He didn’t deny her accusation.

“I was just thinking about possibilities,” he said.

“Possibilities?”

“Of mixing the biological with the mechanical. The humanoid skeleton is not so different from the metal scaffolding that supports a construct.” He pointed along the long bones that made up the skeleton’s arms and legs. “I’m wondering if it would be possible in the future to manipulate both man and machine into one.”

“Hmmm.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and reached for her sketch, studying it with detached interest. There, in the corner, were two small letters in her handwriting. N.V.

A signature.

“The body is fragile,” she said, laying the sketch aside. “It may reject certain metals, or fall apart if certain structures and systems were to be tampered with. One wrong cut and you’re left with naught but inert flesh. I don’t see how that benefits an already inert metal construct.“

“Perhaps if the inert flesh were to be animated again, there could be some use there.”

“You’re suggesting necromancy.” Her lip curled at the suggestion.

“Only as a secondary resort. Though I find that reanimated flesh tends to follow orders a bit more readily than the living, don’t you?”

“How droll. But…hm.” She crossed her arms, eyes fixed on the sketch. She could see where he imagined bars of steel along the bones. It was hard to discern her own thoughts in the memory, but there were flashes, images. Bodies sliced open with every organ on display, tiny threads of veins laid bare by her knife. The image of a brain and spinal cord with the nerves lovingly woven against a steel and iron skeleton. She tilted her head, her heart racing at the prospect, but her every move calm.

“Your proposal intrigues me,” she said at last. “Perhaps I should begin a new round of experiments. See if there are any merits to your…possibilities.”

He chuckled again. “I knew you would come around, eventually.”

Her lips curved in a dark smile as she lovingly stroked a finger down the column of the spinal cord in her drawing. “I shall need new test subjects, dear one, if we are to make any progress on this new little project of yours.”

She felt him draw closer, his lips hovering near her cheek, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He waited instead, just within view, his breath ghosting against her skin.

“I can never say no to you,” he murmured. “I may even have a few subjects already in mind.”

She turned her head at last to look at him. Though his face was half-cast in shadow, she could easily see the tilt of his close-lipped smile. His dark eyes glimmered in the candlelight, darker than any eyes she had ever seen, the blackest black from pupil to iris. She held his gaze as his hand slipped through the opening in her robe to rest against her bare hip, pulling her body slowly against his.

Though his touch was sensual, it didn’t cause her heart to flutter like the bloodied work she had planned did. If anything, she had to bite back a small, resigned sigh.

In all his brilliance, her little tyrant was clever enough to know when to distract her before she plotted more than a step ahead of him. It was a dance they had memorized, almost as soon as they’d met. Flashes of scraps of memory flittered at the edge of her mind, all frustratingly out of reach, but she recognized elements of them. Rivalry. Alliance. Allure. Power. Brilliance. They flit from her mind before she could keep hold of any of them. She still couldn’t remember this man’s name.

“We work well together,” he murmured. “Soon, all the world will recognize us and pay us due deference. They will be bowing in the streets before our might and power.”

He leaned in, bringing his lips a hair’s breadth from hers, teasing. She made no move to close the distance.

“Soon all the world will cower at the mere mention of us,” he whispered. “I will raise you up from your obscurity, my savage little savant. I will make the world know your name.”

“Say it,” she whispered back, and she was no longer certain who was in control of her mouth, the voyeur in the future or the memory of the past. “I want to hear it from your lips first.”

“Nieva,” he crooned. “Nieva Vaelstrom, the Chosen of—“

His voice faded even has his lips continued to move. She struggled to read his lips even as the world around her grew dim, all color leeching away as darkness encroached around her. Then in a rush, her world went black.

She woke with a gasp, finding herself facing a wooden ceiling, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her. She turned her head, half-expecting that dark-haired man again, but instead met the worried, red-eyed gaze of Astarion.

“Gods,” he murmured. “You could have warned me. One second you were just standing there and the next—out like a light.”

“Astarion?” She struggled to sit up, using him for support until they were both seated on the floor, facing one another. “How long was I out?”

“A few seconds at most. I very nearly decided to call for Shadowheart.” He eyed her warily, searching her face. “So? Did you…find what you were looking for? Was it worth it?”

She was quiet, turning the memory over in her mind, her hand absently seeking a necklace that was no longer there. She pressed her hand flat to her chest instead.

The dark-haired man. The sketches. Their conversation. None of it made sense, but neither did any of it feel like a fiction conjured up by the devil for his amusement. She could still feel the man’s hand on her hip as though he had branded her. She could recall the tenor of his voice with perfect clarity.

She slowly shook her head. “I…don’t know.”

Already she missed the weight of the pendant around her neck. It would take days before she could break herself of the habit of constantly reaching for it, seeking the pattern of the metal against her fingers to ground herself. She already mourned its loss. She had traded it and her name for this memory, this reminder of who she had been. And she still had no idea who that person even was.

Astarion watched her for a long moment before reaching out a hand to cover hers, the one that rested listlessly in her lap. “Invi?”

She started with a jolt, breaking from her thoughts. She stared at him, lips slightly parted, half convinced she had just imagined him saying that word. Her name.

“You—you can still say it?”

“Yes. I’ve been saying it several times over, trying to wake you just now.” His smile was wry. “Raphael didn’t take everything about your name, it seems. He might own it, but I can still say it. Lucky me.”

But then his expression shifted, looking uncertain again. “That is, if that’s…is that what you would prefer to be called? Did you even find out your real name?”

“I did, but…” She trailed off, recalling the way the dark-haired man had spoken it. The way his voice had manipulated the syllables as if he owned them and yet desired them. Dangerous and seductive, like a hint of a kiss on her lips and a dagger at her back. It made her gut churn just to remember it, to remember that at the time, she’d felt not revulsion, but a thrill.

Nieva Vaelstrom. A savage savant, he had called her. What did that mean? Even with her true name now in her memory, she was no closer to understanding who she had been in the past. She was left with even more questions than before and had paid dearly for the knowledge that, as of now, did nothing to help her.

She dragged her gaze reluctantly back up to meet Astarion’s. “Would it be all right if I didn’t tell you?” she whispered. “If I could just be Invi for a little while longer, as long as that devil lets me?”

He said nothing at first. He searched her expression with a new kind of earnestness, a softness she had only glimpsed in fleeting moments before now. Whatever he was searching for, or whatever he was thinking, he seemed to answer for himself. He leaned forward on his knees to brush a gentle kiss against her lips.

“Of course, Invi,” he murmured, and she found herself wanting to lean into him and rewrite the voice from her memory with his. Not with her true name, but the name she had used for the last two months.

“Say it again,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting herself relax in his embrace as he kissed her again.

He responded by cradling her face in his hands and murmuring her name against her lips, and then between kisses against her cheekbones, her forehead, her jaw, her throat. She sighed and grew calm in his embrace and let him distract her from the memory she had paid so very dearly for.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #invi #astarion #raphael #sorry its so long friendos #i just ended up really enjoying the journey through this scene

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