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downywrites · 3 years

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bird took request and wrote it. bird hope’s its oke. It’s late here I will die thanks

Ask here

Aww, thanks mate. I really appreciate it! Let’s get on with the writing, shall we?

It was a known fact that Schlatt was not the nicest of people. The ram constantly pissed people off, made rules that made the others spiteful, and, to put it simply, enraged his subjects. And, boy, did they love to voice it. Quackity groaned loudly, slamming his face into the desk of papers he had. The worst part? It didn’t even hurt. The paperwork stacks were big enough that his face never made contact with the table. The vice president’s wings flapped slightly in their work binds. “Why is there so fucking much?!?”

Tubbo sighed, ears flicking downwards even more, scuffing his hoof on the floor dejectedly. “I dunno, man. Is this just the same letter, mailed like 17 different times?” A tired puff of air escaped his mouth as he glared tiredly at a veritable pile of angrily sign letters, each with the same to and from. The duo’s tempers were building to a breaking point. Tubbo ground his hoof into the unpolished floors as he grit his teeth. “Shouldn’t Schlatt be here to at least see what they are saying? He really doesn’t understand his people…”

Quackity scoffed at the goat hybrid’s words, hands itching to yank the old, musty books from the presidents that had preceded the fool that currently controlled the country. The duck pulled off his work restraints that he wore, unloosening the leather straps and letting them fall on the floor. “I’m done with this shit. It’s time to make him pay.” Tubbo shied away from the idea. “I don’t think that’s a good idea...he might kill us if we do anything bad to him.” The other turned around, eyes gleaming with the man’s old playfulness. “Nah, we’ll do something bad that he can’t prove. Something so devious, that stupid grass-grazer wouldn’t see it coming.” He rubbed his hands together, chuckling like a madman while ignoring the protest of the other herbivore in the room. “Hey, I’m also a-” “Tubbo.”

The smaller of the two stepped back into a small pile of letters, nervousness spiking at the change of tone. “I- uh, sorry?” Quackity clapped his hands together. “We strike at dawn.” Sighing with relief, Tubbo nodded, ears flopping slightly as he did so. He headbutted the other carefully, tail wagging when the other pat his head a little. “You really don’t give a fuck what Schlatt says about your butting tendencies, do ya?” Tubbo giggled, a light, reedy sound that echoed slightly in the absence of the person who usually occupied the place. “Yeah, nah. I don’t think Schlatt cares about me enough to worry about that.”

Quackity wanted to say otherwise, eyes glancing to his desks and back to the minor. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come out, jamming and freezing up right before he could say anything. Shutting his mouth so he didn’t look like a fool, the gambler watched as the land-dwelling hybrid sorted through some of the piles with careful hands. A sense of warmth and fondness grew in his heart before he could put it out. He shook his head vigorously at the thought. ‘No, I can’t bond with him. A gambler never shows his cards.’

Another voice in his head disagreed with his words, slamming their cards down on the table. “Well, are we a gambler right now, or are we a vice president? It's a change, Quackity. You need to understand. Tubbo loves you. Are you going to love him back, or make him sad?’ One of his hands came to rub at his temple. ‘Damn, I didn’t think that taking such a random spot in the cabinet would make me have to change so many of my habits.’ Ironically enough, Tubbo piped up at that very moment.

“Hey, as the vice president of the whole of the country, I think you could answer a few of these ourselves!”” His ears perked up in excitement, his little puffy tail wagging behind him as he sorted out some of the lesser complaints and twirled a fountain pen in between his fingers. Sitting down on one of the couches, his eyes scanned over one of the letters, wincing at the harshness of the words on the weak parchment. The sound of the pen nib scratching against the back of the paper cut through the silence in the room adjoining the office. Wings flapped slightly as he moved. Sitting down carefully next to the younger, he crossed his legs over each other, eyes glancing at the squid ink on the paper.

After a while of silent writing, his voice, croaky from smoke and yelling and all that which is bad, escaped him. “Hey, you know, I never really got to tell you my plan.” A small, little breezy laugh from the other. His voice rang out, all sweet and flowery, like a bee that had just landed on a flower, yet sharp underneath, like the stinger nestled deep in the insect’s body. “Go on, tell me big man. I’d like to hear it.” Their voices intertwined as the rain poured outside, drumming melodically on the old shingles of the presidential house.

The calm never lasted long enough for anyone’s liking. The lights of the sun’s first rays slipped through the room, casting a dancing shimmer onto Tubbo and Quackity’s resting faces. The duck hybrid blinked himself awake, wincing at the light drilling into his eyes from the stained glass window. “Ugh..” Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he winced at the pop and crunch of his joints shifting. “Ouch. Bad sleeping positions can suck my dick.”

The duck hybrid craned his neck to look at the other sleeping figure, unsurprised at the sight of the much heavier sleeper still passed out on the couch where he was working last night. The boy looked so calm, his face a shade of yellow and gold from the morning light. Quackity couldn’t help but smile at him. The peaceful scene would be adorable in any place, in any setting.

But he knew that the peace wouldn’t stay for long. Once the day began, there would be lots of work to do. All of the papers that he and his ally had not finished would be a problem to solve, that was for sure. It didn’t help that Tubbo tried to make each letter he answered thoughtful and carefully worded, making it even longer to answer a single thing. All in all, if he didn’t try to finish it or try to hide the extra stuff that hadn’t been finished, the silence and calm that pervaded the room wouldn’t be around long enough to give the goat a good night’s sleep.

Walking over to the side of the room that Tubbo resided in, he poked him slightly, reluctant to wake the resting boy. “..Tubbo? You there, buddy?” No response from him. His chest rose and fell in a calming pattern, like the tides just barely kissing the beach. “Tubbo? Schlatt might be mad if he thinks we fell asleep on the job…” The boy’s ears twitched slightly. His eyes slowly opened a crack, just barely. A yawn, then, loud and almost violent compared to the gentle, restful sleep he seemed to have been in. “Hmm.” His half-open eyes came to rest on Quackity, a small smile gracing his face. “Hello there. Wha’ did I miss?”

The slur in his voice only accentuated the cuteness behind his words. “Nothing much, just need you to be away before the ‘big boss’ shows up.” The duck added a little roll of his eyes and some air quotes to spice up his words, wings fluttering up and out in a show of agitation. A sleepy giggle got rid of any regrowing hostility towards the irritating president. “Is our plan still the same? No hurting him, right?” A quack and a sigh. “Fine, no hurting him. I hope your little plan is just as good as my original one, you tiny goat.” He shuffled towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room, cursing lightly when he bumped into the blunted edge of the table as he did so. Tubbo began to stretch out himself, muscles cramped from being on the couch for so long. “When d’you think he’s comin’ in?” He shrugged, holding out two coffee cups in his hands. “Who knows. The man’s got a schedule that could make even XD weep.”

The room filled with the scent of fresh brew, making Tubbo wrinkle his nose in slight distaste. He never quite liked the scent of coffee, but he refused to tell Quackity that. Moving back towards the table in front of Tubbo, the elder of the two placed down the two mugs, now full of the dark, deep brown liquid. “Want creamer or sugar or something, little bud? Didn’t put any in, just in case I fucked up your morning joe. Couldn’t have that, could we?” “No, we couldn’t, big man. Would be a mighty shame.” Tubbo put it to his lips anyways, wincing at the acrid taste that cursed his sensitive taste buds. And the burning sensation. That too. He put it down quickly, hissing slightly. “Owie.” Quackity chuckled, a twinge of concern lacing his laugh. “You good, Tubbo? That was some scalding stuff you just chugged. Might want to blow on that first.” The sound of a door creaking open made them both tense slightly. ‘Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo!’ supplied his mind, rather unhelpfully. ‘Here comes the sun!’ He couldn’t even trust his brain to play the right song. Classic Quackers.

The man of the hour walked into the room, scuffed and scratched hooves raking on the floor and producing a nasty noise as he walked. Not even bothering to hand his coat up, the man tossed it onto the floor, the unironed, probably unwashed jacket making the soft sound of fabric crumpling onto the wood as he went. “What’s up, fuckers?” A loud slam made Tubbo flinch significantly more, prompting the duck to instinctively shield him with his wing. “Hello, Schlatt.” Tubbo looked at the man through his friend’s wings, half in awe of how fast his tone changed and half in fear. It was obvious that the two of them hadn’t finished the work they were told they were to do yesterday. He pinned his ears back, already whimpering in fear.

A shit eating grin grew on the ram’s face at the sight of the room. “So, it seems you two idiots haven’t finished the work I gave you yesterday.” He walked more into the room, towering over the two seated people with a look of condescension clearly saturated on his face. “Looks like you two need a punishment.” Quackity’s face hardened. Tubbo’s face contorted into an expression of fear. “Just a little punishment…”

Quackity really, really wanted to slam his face into the desk again. “He gave us MORE paperwork?!? And then he left his office? AGAIN? UGH!” The secretary whined a little as well. “I mean, at the very least, he could have told us just to finish a little bit less...he kind of, uh, showed us an entire mountain of work he had been failing to work on for, like, a month!” Quackity trilled loudly in agreement, startling him into dropping the wad of papers he had in his hand. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! Stand up to the Schlass!” Tubbo couldn’t help the resulting snort. “The Schlass?” “Yeah! Schlatt and ass together equals Schlass!” The boy couldn’t help but stare at him.

“...Yeah, okay, not the best name ever. But!” Quackity perked up, eyes still grealming with mischief. “We can still enact our plan tonight!” The goat hybrid’s tail wiggled happily behind him, a small puff of forest brown and mocha with extra cream making a blur where his pants met his shirt. “Yess!” Quackity’s sorting got a little faster, energy restored by the reaction he got from the younger. “All we have to do is wait…”

When Schlatt said that he was into bondage, he did not mean this. Not in the slightest. Schlatt struggled in the ropes, eyes a mix of confused and sleepy. The afternoon light was still visible through the slits in his presidential bedroom, so he presumed he hadn’t been kidnapped or been knocked out for more than a day or two. “What the fuck is going on?” The sound of a familiar gait made him simultaneously relax and tense up. “Quackity? Get me out of this shit, you fucking weak excuse of a vice president!” The duck hybrid stepped into his range of vision, face fitted with a look of indifference and condescension, something he was familiar with seeing in the mirror every morning. “You know, you’ve been rude to us all week. Actually, all month. Maybe even the last few months?” Schlatt had the nerve to look sheepish. “You didn’t like it? Then why didn’t you tell me-”

Quackity cut him off with a loud huff. “Why didn’t I tell you? I wonder why, dipshit!” He threw his hands up in the air, his silhouette at the door looking more menacing than the real deal. “Really, Schlatt! For someone who struts his stuff every four seconds, you really don’t know when we need you or when you need to stop acting!” His ears pulled back a little in his anger. And, all of a sudden, his anger vanished into something else. “But, Tubbo told me to use my anger for something else. Tubbo..” He trailed off, eyes unfocusing for a moment. “He helped center me a little more. And, yes, you’re an asshole, but all it takes to make you realize the problems we have is just a little nudge. And look!” Black eyes bored into nervous rectangular. “This is more than just a nudge at this point.” The ram tensed while he processed. Within a few seconds, he calmed down, relaxing a bit more. “So you’re not gonna stab me. Great. Is that all?”

He got an eyebrow raise for the effort. “Oh, that’s not all, buster. Since I didn’t want you to get off scot free, I decided Tubbo and I would be able to mess with you while you’re still down for the count!” With that, he moved closer to the man, tasering his sides roughly to get a quick reaction out of him. The ram bucked and laughed, eyes widening from the sudden jolts of tickling lighting arcing down his spine. “AHAHA! DUhuckie?!?” The sound of hoofsteps rapidly approached the door, slowing only to reveal a small, fluffy bed of hair peeking out to the side of the rectangle of light. “Can I help now? Or do you still want to finish your epic monologue?” Quackity nodded. “Yeah, let’s wreck this cocky bastard’s shit. You know, just a little punishment.” If Schlatt’s fur could pale, it would have.

“No, no, no..Let’s t-talk this out, here..” He shook his head vehemently at the two devious pairs of eyes closing in on him. A pair of hands gently scratched at his ribs, working their way down. They carefully rubbed between the bones, trying to be soft and gentle. The president burst into soft laughter, squirming in his bonds. “Does that tickle, Mr. President? I sure hope so!” Prime, Tubbo’s voice was just so cute. Schlatt didn’t have the heart to be mad at the sweet thing tickling him so kindly. On the other hand...where was Quackity? As if he was summoned by the very thought, the vice president latched onto his hips, kneading them quickly and frenetically. The sudden change made him arch his back with a loud (and rather girly) shriek. A small patch of red bloomed under his fur.

“Was that a shriek? Damn, Ram! Didn’t know you could go falsetto!” Tubbo seemed more impressed than teasy, little stars glimmering in his eyes and a small ‘o’ on his face. The tickling started up again, this time with both of them going a little slower so the ram didn’t just deflate from the sudden sensations. Schlatt decided that this was infinitely worse. The light, almost nonexistent sensations were near unbearable to him. “Cuhuhuhut ihihit ohohut!” The smaller herbivore was quick to answer him. “Cut what out? If you want, I can go faster-”

“Nope! This is a punishment, not a chill session!...Is that what you kids call one of these?” The goat shook his head no.

“Well, fuck. I need a return on that stupid book.” The banter that was occuring was making his ears burn.

“Juhuhust shuhuh-hut thehe fuhuhuck uhuhup!” Quackity didn’t like that. Another round to his hips made him cackle and buck. “You really should shut your mouth for once, Rammy. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten yourself into so much trouble with us in the first place.” He trilled quietly into his ear, breath ghosting on it just enough for it to tickle. Tubbo giggled again, tail wagging with the knowledge (read:interrogation benefits) from one of his cabinet members fresh in his head. “Hey Quackity? According to the nice deer man, Mr. President here has ticklish hooves! He also, uh, can’t stand the light stuff.”

The ram’s eyes bugged out, hot blood rushing to his face. “W-where- what? How? You fucker, who did you bribe-” “No bribes! Just some really, really good convincing~” Quackity purred, feathers ruffling with a sense of pride and a hint of mischief. “Really, really good…” Schlatt shook his head, muttering little ‘no’s under his breath. “Dohohon’t yohohou fuhuhucking dahahare.” Flicking his ears back to ignore the little coos that came from the duck, he focused on Tubbo, eyes pleading for help silently. Tubbo pinned his ears in empathy, but he didn’t move to help him. Instead, the boy pulled out a small, pitch black feather, healthy sheen obvious in the doorway’s light. Positioning himself at the struggling president’s hooves, he made a thumb’s up gesture, avoiding the slightly heated glare of the elder herbivore.

“Sorry, sir. I have to help the one who’s in charge right now.” Feathers puffed up even more, making the duck hybrid look more fluffy and pettable by the second (not that the ram would pet him after this shit. No way). “That’s right, bitch. I’m in charge right now. And I say that we get revenge on this little shit right here.” Quackity took the man’s other ankle into his clutches, placing his finger directly on the squishy, sensitive part of his hoof. It trembled underneath his touch, a small whimper escaping the ram at the extra warmth of anticipation flooded his system.

“Dohon’t fuhucking tehease….”

“Or what, big guy? Kill me? Fire me? You don’t have the balls.”

The finger slowly wiggled its way down his hoof, the owner delighting in the giggles and squirming that it caused. “And, besides, you like this, don’tcha?” He glanced at the man’s tail, the little puff wiggling where it was on the pillows. “I can see your tail, Rammy.” Schlatt turned away from them, trying in vain to shield his red face from view. “S-shuhuhut thehehe fuhuhuck uhuhup!” Tubbo decided to join in on the fun, dragging the feather over the outer parts of his hooves. The resulting flinch and squeal was worth it.

Quackity took it slow, circling the smooth pad on the inside of the hoof and using his nails ever so slightly. It was absolute torture, but Schlatt lived for that type of stuff. His tail thumped violently against the bed as they teased him, giving away his feelings to the duo wrecking him.

“Aww, is Rammy liking this? That’s so cute…~”

“Quackity, his face is so pink! It’s cute!”

Ah, well. There goes his dignity. Another finger traced on his hoof, making his giggles hike up in pitch and volume. The ticklish feeling suffused throughout his whole body, arcing like electricity at his extremities. Nails scratched at his hoof, this time a little faster and aiming to make it as ticklish as physically possible. The feather on his other hoof began to swipe within the more sensitive inner areas. “AHA! IHAhaHA’M SAHAreheHEHEE! PleHEHeaSE!” “are you though?~” He nodded his head frantically through his laughter, tears pricking at his eyes. “MEHEHERCY!” Tubbo and Quackity exchanged a glance. “Think he’s had enough, Tubbo?” “Yeah, I think he has.” He relaxed his shoulders a little in relief. “For now.” Nevermind.

The tickling slowed down, rubbing away the sparking feeling left behind. His giggles subsided slowly as they cooed at him. Schlatt’s tail, however, never stopped wagging, beating the mattress in a steady beat. Quackity untied the knots slowly, smiling at the panting ram. “Had fun, Schlatt?” A glare, then. “Just get me down from here, vice.” “Yes, sir.” And if the deer cabinet member found himself in a sticky situation a very miffed president set up for him, no-one was the wiser. Except for his right-hand men, of course. Who would he be without them?

#Lee!schlatt #ler!quackity #ler!tubbo #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #my writing #tickle fic #i need to find the link for this tmrw morning #sfw tickling

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btchcrft · 3 years

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𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑

weeks have turned to months and your journey to olympus, your acceptance of your life as a demigod, has lead up to this moment. it’s been brutal, wrought with pain and close calls, thick with loss, but you’ve endured. as you begin to get ready to sleep, winding down for the night, something inside of you feels different. there’s a strength that grows that you only dimly knew was there before. you feel stronger, faster, more attuned to your senses and your own inner power. if you ever doubted that you might have divine blood in your veins before, now, more than ever, you feel it.

as soon as your head hits the pillow you fall fast asleep, exhausted from the events that have lead up to this point. who knows however long later, you “awaken”. you’re not where you fell asleep, nothing is as it was when you slept. you have to blink a few times but you realize that you’re in a place that seems familiar to you. describe this place? what does it look like, sound like, smell like?

eyes blink open and i already know where i am. it's the scent of paint, of fresh canvases that line the walls, piled in corners. there's a plush, grey rug beneath my bare feet and, a few feet from it is an area that's sectioned off from the small sitting room of my studio in los angeles. it's the one place that i always came to work, where i felt like i could release everything i've been holding in and no one would judge, no one would tell me i'm overreacting or not being true to myself.

this is home away from home; sanctuary.

there's a large canvas on an easel that's blank, four by four. it's what i was going to work on before having to leave. mixed in with the scent of fresh paint is the salty sea air that breezes in through the large windows that give plenty of natural light. the sun is high in the sky, which is strange since it's winter back in my new home, but this is comfortable, familiar. the furniture is still where i left it. two large, comfortable chairs, the end table with art magazines, the espresso machine on the small kitchenette behind it. a smile dances across my lips and the tension in my shoulders eases.

dust motes dance in the los angeles sunlight like flecks of gold and the air smells of a mix between brine and paint that has yet to cure. it’s a sharp yet oddly comforting scent to you, familiar, soothing. you recognize this place as a rough-and-ready altar that is – for once – not devoted to your mother or any other deity, only you.

you look around and something upon the once-blank canvas catches your eye. is it blank? it doesn’t look to be, for shapes seem to dance in its ivory depths now, alit with silvery traces that look to be forming a face or an arm or an eye, but it’s all too vague, having no true form until they come out from the canvas as if born from it.

what does this figure look like to you, and how does your heart respond? are they familiar or not?

this place was always magical to me and now i bring magic to it. my eyes focus on the paint that almost drips onto the floor. brush strokes in muted colors begin to leak from the stark canvas. i don’t recognize this as one of my own creation but as i look at it, it shifts.

slowly, as if the paint dries into a solid form, is a large leather bound tome, like the ones in the mageia library. dark brown leather, golden latches and corner pieces, with runes along the spine.

i’m about to reach for it when the canvas begins to drip once more and another figure emerges from it and leaps onto the floating book.

a lilac mittens ragdoll kitten sits atop the book, blue eyes starring at me. the same cat i was about to adopt before the acolytes scooped me up into this new world. my heart hurts, and guilt washes over my expression. i had wanted her so badly back then. a companion, something to come home to.

the leather-bound tome is spitted out of the canvas’ mouth but instead of falling, it only floats slowly towards you. time feels sluggish around everything in the room with the dust motes now suspended in the air, the curtains now undulating slowly. the exception to this phenomenon, though, is the lilac cat that nimbly hops on top of the book and balances itself upon its thick rim. it licks its soft paw, then rests its blue-eyed gaze upon you. for a few moments, the quiet appraisal is the only thing it does.

“i’ve been waiting for this moment, son of witchcraft,” finally, it speaks and the voice stands out, “i've been waiting for you.” is it familiar, or unfamiliar? is it a kitten’s purr, or something else entirely? how does it make you feel?

my hand moves away from the cat instinctively, almost like a flinch. if there's one thing that i've learned it's that touching things that pique my interest might get me killed.

and then it speaks.

at first, i'm baffled and then i remember everything else that's gone on in my life recently. the monsters, the magic, the might. talking animals—after seeing satyrs and nymphs—shouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.

the voice is female with a slight feline inflection. there's an underlying purr in the words, a comfortability that shouldn't be there between strangers. it soothes the aches in my joints and my chest, makes me feel like i'm truly back home once more.

"waiting for me?" i rebuttal, eyebrow arched. "why?"

waiting for me? why?

the moment you ask the question, the words seem to have a rippling effect on your surroundings, like a spoken incantation, making the entire room shudder with a silvery sheen. but, somewhere deep within you, there’s a certainty that this isn’t an illusion born out of sinister magic, but something else entirely—an echo turning to a real sound, a remnant becoming a whole once more.

the cat’s eyes gleam then and it walks along the book’s rim, relaxed. the tome is opening now and you watch as ink spills across its brown surface, drawing shapes again as the canvas did before. not shapes, no, you suddenly realize, but runes. they are sigils that you can read, language gravid with ancient power.

“what type of runes are these?” the kitten mews.

the book opens and my eyes stay transfixed on it. each slide of paint, almost like calligraphy, is mesmerizing to me. i can feel each phantom movement in my fingertip. the kitten's question makes my head lilt to the side and my eyes focus on the runes that are forming, ancient sigils that are made easier for me to understand.

"power." i say, confidently. "a means of amplification." i know this because it reminds me of the runes on the inside of the bracelet around my wrist, the same power that courses through me that needs a channel to unleash like a wild fire through dry brush. i reach out and stroke the edges of the book, feeling the power of the runes beneath the pad of my fingertip.

i want it engraved in my bones, tattooed on my body. i think to myself, i never want to feel powerless again.

power, you chant and the rooms shudders again. but this time, it doesn’t halt.

the incantation is spoken, the spell thoroughly read, for the runes from the tome emerge in one swift movement and begin dancing around you like the spirits you summon. the edges of the room, you can see, also start to dissolve into wisps of smoke, swirling in the air around you with a hypnotic rhythm.

amid this occurrence, the lilac ragdoll cats begins to float and swells in size. it is amplification as you’ve wished it, a spark becoming a fire, becoming an inferno. the cat’s limbs dissolve too, as if it has been made of smoke this entire time, and you see that both you and it are glowing the same hue. you are both two supernovas on the verge of explosion. you sense that it has your magic, it has your power, but a much, much stronger form of it.

what color is your magic, and how does it make you feel?

how does your magic behave?

the light begins to glow, begins to leak into the air like dripping liquid until it falls to pieces like the remnants of dried paint rubbed between fingertips. the lilac ragdoll grows and grows, amplifies, like the rune itself took hold, took shape, took motion.

i look down at my hands and my magic is back—not as weak as it had felt when facing nyx and eris' monster, not weak as it had been when i had been foolish and allowed my curiosity to get the best of me, allowing something to take parts of me to make it stronger; no, this was my strength at full capacity. crackling wisps of energy weave between my fingers, black and gold, almost amber, like ribbons that thread themselves seamlessly around my wrists.

this feels...foreign, almost. there's a power to it that i can almost taste, delicious, dangerous, seductive. it washes over me, fills me to the brim. this is what ecstasy feels like. this is what divinity must feel like. i feel alive, i feel powerful, i feel like a natural disaster being harnessed between flesh and bones.

it feels like it wants to burn the world down, summon storms, create chaos, but underneath it, like a mischievous feline, is a calmness that allows me to think, to pause. it waits for me to beckon for it before it waxes and wans, occasionally acting on its own accord. but it behaves like it might be mine, and not something borrowed, not something uncontrollable.

for the first time since arriving at camp, i feel like my magic wants to belong.

as one thought after another flits through your head, the cat’s fur mirrors every single one, turning to a fiery black pelt that trails golden smoke, becoming embedded with cracks of black-tinged lightning, taking on a writhing surface of gold and black. your magic runs wildly as ribbons and scatters everywhere in reckless abandon. it’s chaos, it’s power, and it’s rampant, untamed, feral, until you will it to be otherwise.

until you make it belong inside you.

now, the ragdoll cat’s fur is a mass of dark, wispy smoke, but its eyes are so unbelievably golden like they are coins enchanted to glow in the dark. its size is that of a bear now, looming over you. you are not in your studio apartment anymore, but you don’t seem to be in anywhere recognizable either, the world around you a curious blank.

“interesting,” the cat purrs, with what seems to be a bemused laugh lurking underneath each word. when it prowls ahead, it has the leisure of a ghost and, of course, the grace of a cat. “so instead of letting your power run wild, you wish to harness it and make it yours.” golden eyes land on you. “show me more, son of witchcraft – paint for me what you desire.”

as the words trail, the world around you spasms and dances. the calligraphy lines from before spiderwebs from beneath you and you are certain that they want you to paint – want you to draw a world that belongs only to you.

paint what i desire.

under any normal circumstance, this would be easy. this would be just another piece i hang in a gallery, allow someone else to buy, allow them to take a piece of my future home with them.

i look down at my hands and i clench my fingers into a fist, dig my nails against my palm, inhale and exhale. i close my eyes, allowing my magic to coil within me, allow it to purr like a cat and strike like a viper.

and then i begin to mold the world as i see fit.

paint what i desire.

there is a mountain that looks like divinity atop it, a radiant glow that can be see like the stars in the night sky, like the moon that hangs above. the painting moves, shifts, strokes of paint trail away to unravel and become something more. it is their camp, their home, but it is much different—fit for the gods, not their children. marble thrones, marble statues, carved into their likeness, altars and offering bowls at their feet. each statue looks draped in traditional greek god attire—white robes, golden belts, laurel wreathes atop their heads.

then there is me, in the middle, amongst them all.

paint what i desire.

divinity, godlihood—not half measures—a new era, a new god of witchcraft, a new king of olympus.

paint what i desire.

ambition made truth. deepest, darkest desires laid bare. unspoken words turned to canvas; a secret never uttered aloud.

the calligraphy lines unfurl and writs as you will them too and paint spills in colors of your choosing. after everything cures, the sight you’re greeted with is grandiose, your own marble face staring down at you from the pantheon of gods. it’s a dream, but you also feel that it can be real, that you can make it real.

languidly, the cat paddles through the air and floats above head of the statue that bears your likeness in stone. it has a cheshire grin on its face now. “good,” the words are a purr, an agreement. “so you wish to remake the world in your own image.”

slowly, the cat swells again until it’s as large as a temple, a colossal thing. its golden eyes glint when it stares down at you, but you don’t feel any sort of fear. it’s like looking into a mirror, a reflection of yourself.

“this will not come easy, little weaver,” it speaks and the words are a deep rumble in your chest. “magic always has a cost, and the path ahead you is full of dangers. are you ready to accept your power, and the challenges it will inevitably bring your way, remaker? are you ready to bear the heft of witchcraft?”

i look at the statue that stares down at me and my gaze moves to the cat.

"not in my own image, but better than it is now, better than it could be." i wave my hand through the air and the image stays as is, framed. "change needs to happen and i want to bring it."

i wonder, for a moment, if this is what eris thinks, too.

i nod my head, the black and amber-gold of my magic trails up my arms until it dissipates, returning to normal. "since i said yes to my birthright there's been danger. i've almost died. i've been captured, i've been face to face with the goddess of chaos." he smirks. "but i am chaos. magic is chaos. and she won't control me or anyone else."

i close my eyes. "heavy is the crown and all that bullshit. i am magic. i can bear it."

“and your mother is the goddess of magic, of cross-roads, and all arcane mysteries,” it laughs and the sound echoes in your bones. “when danger comes, we’ll simply have to show them who’s more dangerous, won’t we?” the cat’s smoky body begins to swirl then and you can see its arm outstretch, pointing one gigantic claw at you, wispy near the tip like the specters that you summon. “paint runs out, little weaver, but magic never truly does.”

the single claw is beckoning, asking you to touch it.

i outstretch my finger toward the claw and, right before i press tip to tip, say:

"not even in death."

the instant your finger touches the claw, you feel all of it pour into you, the cat, the world you’d created, and the magic, as wisps of gold slither down the fingertip and into your mouth and your eyes. it’s all-encompassing, it’s dangerous, and but it’s also so incredibly righteous. this is your birthright and every inch of you accepts it.

then, you fall, stumbling through the dream, only to wake up on your bed. the moonlight is cool against your skin, and nothing rustles in your room. was it only a dream? was it only a trick of your mind? as you begin to wonder, you notice amber lines shimmer faintly under your skin and draw what can only be a half-finished rune.

#psyche #kian prieto #path of the arcane weaver #thank you luke!!!

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clcvers · 4 years

Text

who: evelyn & clover (@yundays) what: a discord thread when: friday, october 2nd (the night before the festival) where: some trendy club in brooklyn

evelyn: the night started very similarly to how every friday night goes for evelyn — pregaming on alcohol and drugs for two hours straight and not heading to the club until right before midnight. but this time felt more special as clover joined her, an event that only happens a few times a month due to conflicting schedules. and honestly, she was going to need her best friend and their shenanigans if she was going to get through this all nighter. after all, there was no way she was going to sleep before her 7am shift. it just didn’t make sense. admittedly, maybe things felt a little blurry as she arrived to the club, but it was almost like everything came into hyper focus as she stumbled on to the dancefloor, the neon lights and sharp snares electrifying her right down to her bones. evelyn instantly turns to the other woman already raising her arms in the air and dancing, shoulders and hips moving in tandem to the beat. ❝ oh my god, clover. the music… it’s like in my fingertips, wow… ❞ she releases a giggle at that, fingertips gently touching her own face. and for some reason, in that moment, it’s like she had the greatest epiphany ever. ❝ i literally love you. i’m like… so glad you’re here with me, clove. ❞ she says, bringing her into an embrace and swaying the two of them together.

clover: it had been ages since clover had been in the middle of a sweaty, crowded club instead of staring down at one from the dj platform. something about being out with evelyn made it feel even more right. she hadn't seen her best friend in what felt like months, and getting to dance with her again tonight felt almost euphoric. she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't disappointed that she hadn't pregamed as intensely as evelyn, but it wasn't hard for her to track down her old dealer for some molly. back in the day, one little pill would hardly have an effect on her, but outside of the occasional joint, it'd been almost two years since she'd touched anything. it was just one pill, she figured, how bad could it be ? besides, it was a special occasion. when evelyn's giggling starts to echo in her ear, she knows that something's happening. looking back at her friend, she can hardly bring herself to do anything but smile. ❝ i can't feel my face ! ❞ she exclaims, letting out a breathy laugh as evelyn pulls her close. ❝ dude... you're like my best friend. have i ever told you that you're like... my best fucking friend? ❞mall>

evelyn: ❝ clover, i am literally so honored i can cry. ❞ and for a moment, it’s almost like she is going to as her eyes water up slightly. though, it could be partially due to the smoke machine, if anything. ❝ you’re going to like, make me cry… in the club. ❞ realizing she just quoted a meme, any tears that might’ve welled up in her eyes quickly dissipate as she begins laughing into clover’s shoulder. she eventually does pull away, though, feeling as though the music itself is behind the wheel as she closes her eyes and lets the euphoric beats and her best friend’s voice guide her. jumping to the rhythm, a large smile appears on her face as she reopens her eyes, elated to see that her friend’s face is still there, the drugs making it seem like her face is closer than it actually is. the image makes her laugh as she peers past her friend’s shoulder, looking into the abyss of neon-lit moving bodies as her vision becomes a bit wavy. ❝ um… i’m going to like… go on a limb here and say like, i think the drugs are kicking in. ❞ she giggles at her state, acutely aware of just how fucked up she is, the experience feeling more fun and fantastical than scary.

clover: as she moves to the music, clover leans into evelyn and laughs along with her, losing herself in the moment shared between them. when evelyn pulls away, clover can feel the heat rising in her body, propelling her to move in sync with the music as she begins to lose herself in the crowd. evelyn's voice brings her back into reality and she slowly floats back to their position in the crowd. ❝ you and me both, ❞ she says dreamily, closing her eyes as she sways to the melody. ❝ i feel like i'm a mermaid right now. ❞ her realization makes her giggle and she quickly inches closer to evelyn to embrace her once again. ❝ i'm really happy these days, you know? ❞

evelyn: evelyn’s giggle reflects her friend’s own as she welcomes the embrace and sways the two of them once more. ❝ you literally look so happy, clover, i just knew it... i’m like so happy for you and your best life, wow. ❞ she scream-whispers into her ear over the loud bass as she brings them back to arm’s length and continues dancing in this form, truly just vibing. ❝ oh my god, should we like, get drinks? ❞ the realization brings her hands to her mouth in exaggerated shock, genuinely shocked they haven’t made a b-line to the bar immediately. “yeah, i think we are gonna need drinks like… asap.” she restates, as she glances back trying to remember where it was in the cloudy haze of her intoxicated state. taking clover’s hands and resting them on her own shoulders, she congo-dances her way out of the crowd, hoping that going against the current of the crowd will lead her to the pot of gold that was the bar counter. eventually it does and after getting the bartender’s attention by leaning in and shouting, he comes over. ❝ hi, so i’m going to need a gin and tonic and… bitch, what are you feeling right now? ❞ she turns to the other, asking the question in her ear.

clover: the mention of drinks awakens her from her dreamy state, and she follows closely behind evelyn as they make their way through the crowd. ❝ let's run up the tab, ❞ she giggles as they finally reach the bar. her hands are still perched on evelyn's shoulders as she inches closer to the counter to shout her order to the bartender. ❝ i'll take a jack and coke. ❞ as the bartender disappears to fetch their drinks, she leans her back against the counter comfortably before looking back at her friend. ❝ i swear, this is like, the best night ever. ❞

evelyn: evelyn hands the bartender her card as the drinks appear in front of them, passing it to her best friend. ❝ clink, clink, bitch. ❞ she brings her glass to meet the other’s own, smirking at its rim before taking a long sip, the liquid going down like it was water for the woman. ❝ oh my god, like, to be honest though… it literally is, wow. ❞ she giggles into her glass, instinctually taking yet another sip. ❝ honestly like these past few weekends have been so lame, no joke… it was missing clover magic, like it’s been soooo long, what the fuck. ❞

clover: ❝ remind me to venmo you later, ❞ clover whispers loudly to her friend, taking the glass from her before clinking it against hers. ❝ cheers, bitch! ❞ she yells excitedly, almost downing her drink in one sip. ❝ you think i'm magic? ❞ she practically gasps, looking at her best friend with gleaming eyes. ❝ you're so fucking cute, evie! ❞

30 MINUTES LATER

evelyn: returning back to the dancefloor, evelyn is genuinely enjoying herself as she takes the last sip of her drink, already eyeing a few people — with a few returning the glance. she brings her attention back to her best friend but keeps her gaze on someone else across the room as she chuckles to herself. ❝ oh my god, okay, clover fucking slap me if i try to go home with someone tonight okay. like… you have my permission. my cheek can take it, okay. ❞ she slurs into clover’s ear, bringing a hand to her face, the memories of awful drunken hookups coming to mind.

clover: when the two finally make their way back onto the dancefloor, clover could be less preoccupied with the people dancing around them. she's too busy having the time of her life with her best friend and vibing to one of the best sets they'd ever been to together. so when evelyn all of a sudden gives her permission to get violent with her if she tries to get laid, she's taken aback. ❝ girl, ❞ she says, her voice raising in pitch from all of the liquor she's had. ❝ you know i'm not one to judge, but i lowkey hate how you'll just sleep with anyone when you're drunk enough. ❞ clover laughs tipsily as she pulls away from evelyn, shaking her head a bit as she remembers all of the stories they'd exchanged about their drunken hookups.

evelyn: ❝ oh my god, i know it’s seriously soooo bad. ❞ evelyn chuckles into her hand, flushing from embarrassment and as the alcohol digests further and further into her system. ❝ ugh, i’ll never forget how fucking messy my birthday was. like... i woke up to dylan of all people, oh god. ❞ she groans at the memory, rubbing her eyes as her intoxicated state only increases from here. as it does, the dj moves gracefully into the next song, causing evelyn to drop her jaw at the selection. ❝ fuck, this song is sooo beautiful, clover, wow… i might cry. ❞

clover: the song changes before clover has time to respond to what her friend says, and with the whiskey and molly clouding her thoughts, it takes her a moment to process what evelyn even means. she'd left early with one of evelyn's friends on the night of her birthday, and come to think of it, she'd never actually heard how the rest of evelyn's night went. ❝ wait, ❞ she pauses, turning to her friend as she leans in to speak to her. ❝ why did you wake up next to dylan? ❞ the thought of them together feels unnatural to her, but she can't think of another explanation as to why she would say such a thing. ❝ you didn't... ❞ she pleads, trailing off as tears begin to stream slowly down her face, hoping that this was all some big misunderstanding. ❝ evie, ❞ she says forcefully, grasping evelyn's wrist, ❝ tell me you didn't. ❞

evelyn: ❝ ow, that hurts… ❞ evelyn pouts, eyebrows stringing together as her gaze lingers a little too long on her friend’s grip on her wrist. ❝ what didn’t i do? ❞ she eventually asks, already forgetting the words coming out of her lips as soon as she says them. noticing her best friend’s tears though makes her heart drop nonetheless, believing it has to be because the song playing feels so visceral. ❝ oh god, clover please don’t cry… the song is almost over. i think so. should we ask him? ❞ she proposes, glancing back to the dj stand, and deciding internally that it’s much too far away and she’s honestly much too lazy.

clover: clover hadn't realized that she was applying pressure on evelyn's wrist until she cries out, and she lets go as she turns back to look evelyn in the eyes. ❝ what didn't you do? ❞ she repeats furiously as more tears begin to cloud her vision. ❝ what the fuck is wrong with you? ❞ the room suddenly starts to spin around her as she backs away from evelyn, disgusted at her nonchalant attitude. the admission alone was enough to send her spiraling, but the lack of compassion evelyn had for her — her supposed best friend — made her even more on edge. ❝ I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING SONG! ❞ she screams as the tears fogging her eyes finally fall and smudge her heavy eyeliner. ❝ i can't believe you would do this to me. ❞ she almost chokes on her words as she sobs, walking straight through the crowd and hoping evelyn doesn't catch up to her.

evelyn: as soon as evelyn saw clover get worked up, she can feel her chest clenching, doing her best to focus on hanging on to reality just a little bit longer to see what was happening with her best friend. before she realizes it, clover is leaving and all she can do is follow after her. ❝ clover, wait. clover… ❞ she calls after her, worming through the crowd to catch up. ❝ where are you going? did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean it, i promise. ❞ she says more out of a knee jerk than sincerity, still trying to catch up with what exactly was going on.

clover: she doesn't wait for evelyn to catch up with her, but when she hears her voice calling out, she can feel her eyes welling up again. ❝ did you do something wrong? ❞ clover scoffs as she stops in front of the bar, turning towards evelyn as they meet face to face again. ❝ you slept with dylan when you knew that i liked him! ❞ her face heats up as she speaks, swallowing what was left of her pride after she sobbed in the middle of the club. ❝ you are un-fucking-believable, ❞ she says as her jaw tightens and her fists clench. ❝ you know what? i hate you. ❞

evelyn: evelyn’s heart drops at clover’s declaration of hate, feeling her sense of reality slip from her consciousness, growing more and more spaced out as the tremendous guilt and intoxication pull her down. ❝ no, no, no clover, please. it wasn’t like that, i don’t like him, i promise. fuck, please, please don’t hate me, clover. i’m so sorry, fuck. ❞ and it all leaves her lips as a slippery, slur-induced rambling mess because all she knows is she’s fucked up, the one thing she never wanted her to know coming out and now she’s feeling like she’s losing it all rapidly. as it all crashes down, all she could do is plead as she feels her breathing speeding up.

clover: all clover can do as her best friend pleads with her is sob. she never imagined that evelyn would be capable of betraying her — especially after she had been so supportive when it seemed like she and dylan had finally made some progress after all these years. she can feel her chest heaving as she looks back at her former best friend, shaking her head at her empty words. ❝ don't ever speak to me again, ❞ she manages to say, her words slurring through her tears. turning away from evelyn, she stumbles through the crowd to get some fresh air. all she wants to do is go home.

#𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆 ▸ threads.#𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ▸ evelyn.

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cabinofimagines · 7 years

Text

Joy

This is a chapter of my Heroes Of Olympus fanfic. I hope you like it.

Joy couldn’t believe what she saw. She knew what she was doing is wrong, but she just couldn’t help it, she was curious. She still is.

After coming to this camp when she was 8, Joy shouldn’t be surprised about what she saw, for, she saw a lot of strange things. But then again, what she just saw wasn’t strange per say. It was more of uncommon. Not unnatural, but uncommon.

Once she was sure he couldn’t hear her, Joy got out of the forest as fast as she can. She didn’t want him to see her. It’d be plain awkward. Once she reached the outside of the forest, her eyes landed on the camp fire. She couldn’t seem to digest that someone could touch a fire like this and not get hurt. Let alone, create it.

That’s when Joy realized, Leo Valdez is one of the seven demigods.

Joy has never been a morning person, and she sure wasn’t going to start now. Especially when three kids are going to go on a quest. The thing about quests in this camp is that demigods usually don’t make it back alive. Not all of them at least, however that changed when Percy Jackson arrived. It was just like the first quest he went on along with Grover and Annabeth. It was just messier, considering the fact that Percy is missing.

Now, Joy wasn’t at the fire camp last night. She slept through dinner and fire camp, not that she minds missing a meal and the so lovely gathering of every single person in this camp. But words travel fast around camp, and Joy was wondering if Leo’s friends knew about him. Did anyone know that he can get fire out of his hands? Cause if people know, it sure would be an uproar at camp.

“Now. I know that frown.” A voice sounded from behind the machine Joy was working on, causing the girl to yelp and throw the groove joint pliers at the person. “Goddammit, Nico.” Joy sighed as she glared at the boy, “How many times have I told you, don’t shadow travel in the damn forge.”

The only reaction Joy got was none. It was no secret that the son of Hades wasn’t a people’s person. And for the last few months, Joy hasn’t been either. So maybe they found something in each other. A friend. Nico shrugged after a few minutes and walked towards Joy, greeting her with nod of some sort. They both hated when people entered their personal space bubble.

“So,” Nico started as Joy went back to working on the machine. “Kinda quite for the forge.” Joy raised her eyebrows at the boy. “It’s six thirty in the morning. The only awake kids are the Apollo kids,” Nico nodded, knowing that it’s true “Hand me a D02.” Joy stretched her arm, still looking at the metal box with plastic rectangular door like lit at the front. When Joy didn’t feel the cold metal in her arms, she remembered that Nico has no idea what that is. “White circular shape at the bottom. Long ass rectangle gold at the top.” “So, new campers.” Nico handed Joy her D02. “Yeah, three,” Joy flipped the box, placing the newly given metal to her in it’s rightful place. “older than thirteen. And I got a new half-brother.” Nico nodded at the information, but he stayed silent.

“Your twin is in the fields of punishment,” Nico informed Joy. “listening to Opera right now, solving a puzzle.” “He hated that stuff.” Joy scoffed as she added an air filter in her machine, screwing it secure. “Yeah, well. It’s not called fields of punishment for nothing.” Nico pointed out as he slightly touched the top of her air filter, bringing the whole project down into individual pieces. “Seriously!” Joy groaned as she ran her hands over her face. “I’m not a Hephaestus kid and I could tell that was trash.” Nico shrugged as he raised his eyebrows at Joy, asking her what’s wrong. “Nothing,” Joy stated “I just saw something yesterday.” Nico was going to ask what but he didn’t get the chance. “Honestly, it’s nothing. If something is bothering enough, I’ll tell you.” Joy smiled at the boy, making him nod in defeat.

Joy lost track of time on how long she’s been in the exact spot after Nico left. She was trying to convince herself that she is rebuilding the machine at the correct rate. But she hasn’t even finished the base yet. By now the forge was full, like every day. Joy was half expecting to see Leo, but he wasn’t there. She wanted to talk to him about his ability. True, she has no idea how to start the conversation, or what to say. But she knows how it feels like to have something extraordinary. Something different than the rest. Yes, hers is bad- a disability as she sees it, but it’s still different.

The noise outside got louder in a second. The conch horn blew, catching the attention of the children of the forge. Joy placed the screwdriver down and limped outside along with the others. Once Joy reached her destination, everyone has quieted down and the sight in front of her got her smiling.

Pushing her way to the front, Joy saw the dragon. She wanted nothing but to hug that stupid metal dragon. After all, he was the reason for her injury. That’s when she took in the sight of Leo. His coat and his face were smeared with soot. His hands were grease-stained, and he wore a tool belt around his waist. His eyes were bloodshot. His curly hair was so oily it stuck up in porcupine quills, and he smelled strangely of Tabasco sauce. But the look on his face says absolutely delighted.

“That thing is dangerous!” an Ares girl shouted, brandishing her spear. “Kill it now!” Joy was glaring hard at the girl. She loves that dragon. “Stand down!” someone ordered, it was Jason. He pushed through the crowd, flanked by Annabeth and Nyssa. Jason gazed up at the dragon and shook his head in amazement. “Leo, what have you done?” “Found a ride!” Leo beamed. “You said I could go on the quest if I got you a ride. Well, I got you a class-A metallic flying bad boy! Festus can take us anywhere!” “It—has wings,” Nyssa stammered. Her jaw looked like it might drop off her face. Joy looked at the wings and her eyes widened. The wings were so good, it made her wonder how have they not made him ones. If Leo is talented enough to do that, a cabin full of kids could’ve to, but apparently not. “Yeah!” Leo said. “I found them and reattached them.” “But it never had wings. Where did you find them?” Leo hesitated, and Joy knew he was hifing something. “In … the woods,” he said. “Repaired his circuits, too, mostly, so no more problems with him going haywire.” “What do you mean ‘Mostly?’” Joy asked. The dragon’s head twitched. It tilted to one side and a stream of black liquid—maybe oil, hopefully just oil—poured out of its ear, all over Leo. “Just a few kinks to work out,” Leo said. Joy raised her eyebrows at the boy as she tilted her head to the side. “But how did you survive … ?” Nyssa was still staring at the creature in awe. “I mean, the fire breath …” Joy knew. But she didn’t say anything, She won’t. “I’m quick,” Leo said. “And lucky. Now, am I on this quest, or what?” Jason scratched his head. “You named him Festus? You know that in Latin, 'festus’ means 'happy’? You want us to ride off to save the world on Happy the Dragon?” The dragon twitched and shuddered and flapped his wings. “That’s a yes, bro!” Leo said. “Now, um, I’d really suggest we get going, guys. I already picked up some supplies in the—um, in the woods. And all these people with weapons are making Festus nervous.” Jason frowned. “But we haven’t planned anything yet. We can’t just—” “Go!” Annabeth said. She was the only other person who didn’t look nervous at all. Her expression was sad and wistful, like this reminded her of better times. Joy gave the girl a tight, small smile. Joy and Annabeth aren’t friends. They don’t hate each other either. They are just colleges. “Jason, you’ve only got three days until the solstice now, and you should never keep a nervous dragon waiting. This is certainly a good omen. Go!” Jason nodded. Then he smiled at Piper. “You ready, partner?” Piper looked at the bronze dragon wings shining against the sky, and those talons that could’ve shredded her to pieces. “You bet.” she said.

“Leo!” Joy called as she limped towards the boy. Leo turned around at the unfamiliar voice and his eyes widened. Was she coming to kick his ass for what happened at the forge? He sure hoped not. “You guys go ahead and ride,” Leo told Jason and Piper. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Meeting the girl halfway, Leo placed his hands in his coat pockets. “Hey,” Joy started as she gave Leo a blank look. “I want you to know that what you did, it could’ve gone very wrong,” Joy sighed as she bite her bottom lip in between her teeth. “And…” “Leo!” Jason called from atop of Festus. Leo looked back to tell him to hold on for a second “You know what.” Joy stated as she gave Leo a small smile. “Thank you for bringing him back,” Joy mentioned to the dragon with a nod. “And try not to die.” Joy doubted on saying something else, so it was very awkward for a few seconds as Leo tried to make sense of the situation. “Go and break a leg, fire boy.” Joy whispered. Leo’s eyes widened at her nickname. She knew. She’s gonna think he’s weird. Upon seeing the look on the boy’s face, Joy gave a small sigh. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.” She sighed, trying to reassure Leo that she’ll keep her mouth shut until he decides if he wants anyone to know. However, Leo didn’t look that reassured, so Joy said the only words that made her feel safe. The words that she trusted so much. She shouldn’t have.

“I promise”

THIS IS 10/10 JESUS MAN WHY CAN EVERYONE ON THIS SITE WRITE - ash

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