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iguessilovebakugou · 3 years

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In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold || Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) || Happier pt 3 || Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one. But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general. Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”.

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out. I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now. So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others.

Part One! Part Two!

Word Count: 7.7K TW: Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling. They where there with you. They went through the same thing you had, right? You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,” You offered Asui a bright smile. “Just...tired. These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it. Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened. And you were supposed to just...move on from it. Keep going forward. No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages. You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read. You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there. You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you. You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same. You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place. The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her. If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri. And that wouldn’t do. That might lead into her asking what was wrong. And what were you supposed to do then? Answer her honestly? Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You? Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time. You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up. But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life. You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms. She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave. “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,” She muttered softly. “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest. You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard. A lot harder than you. As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway. But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died. And yet here you are moping about it. What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Another smile, this time a little wider. “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there. You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms. It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore. Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane. With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side. Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night. It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone. To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest. And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room. Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all. Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind. You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help. I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get. At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou. You hoped he was free. Maybe even free enough to talk. The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much. You could use him, right now. Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over. You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep.

Hey. We just got home. Hope you’re...

Nope, delete. Didn’t sound right.

Hey! You free right now? I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to. Nothing had ever sounded right. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore. Is this depression? Do you have depression? Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry. You needed your friend. Your best friend. Your only friend. You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh. Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh. You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice. You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing. But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose! He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected. Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat. You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time. You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table. The giant...granite...coffee table. “Ah, shit, shit...” You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid. He had seen the news that something had happened. When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self. When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst. He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality. He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do. And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed. Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone. I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke. Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you. As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you. He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day. But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden. He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could. In what minute way you had allowed him. You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you. But he stayed quiet.

And he felt entirely useless.

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces. Confidential, he said. Bullshit, Shinsou thought. If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened. But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right? She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact. But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher. Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead. She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.

And that was the problem wasn’t it? Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other. It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat. The two of you had no problems talking, especially you. You talked a lot, and he...didn’t. You suited him fine. More than fine.

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything? What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible. Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you? Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small? Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one. Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible. And you knew that. You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise. Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days. His mind swirled with thoughts of you. Of how much he missed just you. Your laugh, your stupid jokes. Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room. To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it. You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do. How he could fix it - but later. He’s not strong enough now. He’s not ready. After he’s done with Aizawa. After he’s a hero. After after after. Always cautious, always testing the waters.

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated. When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action. When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk. You were reckless in all the best ways. In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes. Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more. You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough. Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm. If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did.

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs. The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment. Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall. “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.” She said softly. “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,” Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right. Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried. For you.

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart. He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did. He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding. Probably your phone. Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention. In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face. You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately. He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him. You were ignoring him. Like he wasn’t even there. Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!” You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips. He tried not to stare for too long. “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment. He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way. You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit. He could tell. It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook. You generally were so bright, hardly ever short. Low energy, but not tired? Sure.

He waited another minute. “The others just got home.”

The slight pause. Heh - you were like a book. So easy to read. “Oh.” You said so matter-of-factly. In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top. Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position. But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything, you put your face in your hand. Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him. So he continued: “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond. And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did. He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to hide anything from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you. After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.” Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table. “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him. His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning. You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place. “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...” You pushed yourself up. His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed. “On three. One-”

He didn’t bother waiting. Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room. It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him. He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his. You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly. He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away. He didn’t want to. Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away. Almost able to hold off temptation. But you were like that, weren’t you? The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features. He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you. But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention. He hated the soft sound that escaped him. Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.

He shouldn’t feel this way about you. But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt. He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you. Why did you do this to him? Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself? Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.

His fingers shook. He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off. You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly. Neither of you said a word. He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it. His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts. But you had the knack for words - he didn’t. All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation. You always had something to say.

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.

There was something different about you. A wall that was keeping you from him. Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it. You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different. That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone. Now go to bed.” He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs. He was done. He helped you out enough.

Sometimes you were too much. Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be.

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife. He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you. Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave. And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you. He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room. “Why?”

“Humor. Me.”

His eyes narrowed. Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that. He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth. Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach. With just a glance, you quelled that fury. Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped. You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that. Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head. So what was different now? “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore. He didn’t like this line of questioning. Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had. No tea, no gentle touches. The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep. You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him. “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in. With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch. Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing. “Nothing.” You said finally. “Just...thinking. About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things. Perhaps a little too much for too long. You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again. While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight. Or...any night. His feet carried him back to the couch. With a groan he sat down beside you. “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer. “Yeah. Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you. “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him. “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his. Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him. Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other. And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!” He bellowed. “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something. You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.” You started...then fell quiet again. He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear. He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you. “I don’t think I belong here. At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said. That...wasn’t one of them. He had never thought of you not here. What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself. Among the rest of our class.” His brows furrowed as you spoke. He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset. “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down. I...I just don’t think I can do that. So...” You shrugged, swallowing harshly. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst. It obviously struck a chord with you.

“That’s stupid.”

Another laugh. This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re absolutely right. It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot. It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened. He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest: You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this. Not with him. Not when he could help you. He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.

“Look, you moron. If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine. Do it. But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke. “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question. There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer. Daring him to suggest something. Blow it up? Yell at it? Fight it until it gives up? But where would you start? It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down. Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you. But he had nothing.

“Yeah,” You moved, pushing yourself off the couch. You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit. Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again. If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it. You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him.

“It’s fine.” You added, making your way towards the stairs. “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie. Everything about this situation was a lie. You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine. The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest. You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something. He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this. What would All Might say? What would Kirishima say? What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me: Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him. There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at. “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.” It was a challenge. Stay and face this. “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.” Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said. “The Big Three are one thing: They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.” He called you all out by name. Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you. “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate. It’s your call.”

It had been your call. Your decision. The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for. The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done. It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.

Your call. Your choice: Save a little girl who was in danger or back down. Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable. You screwed up. Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have. You weren’t like your friends.

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead! After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high. Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire. Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone.

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes. You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly. Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead. You were equals - at least in this moment. “Yeah, heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together. Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot. But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again. You had thought you had done all your crying. God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort. His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room. His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction. And he just watched you. No malice, no rage, just...waiting.

Waiting for your answer.

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl. Because that’s what heroes do.

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me. You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life. His whole body trembled under your touch. Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him. But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease. If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall. You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone. You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack? You weren’t with Kirishima and them. You went off on your own, to try and save me. Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked. How much he wanted to be a hero. And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him? If they took that away from him…? All of his hopes and dreams?

No. No, you weren’t going to let that happen.

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking. Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered. As if they were helping his case. As if they were something you should be proud of. You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed: you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen. You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away. His face was too much. It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still. He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person. You want to help people.” Movement caused you to glance his way. He turned to sit back down on the couch. “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’? He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable. You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again. You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight. “So does everyone else.” You replied weakly. It didn’t make you special. It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.

A soft gasp escaped your chest. So...that’s what he was doing. Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected. He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less. One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled. Really, honestly smiled. You set your bag down against the wall. The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while. You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin. With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed. You weren’t surprised he was able to help. “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back. “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away. The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh. You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip. As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment. You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through. Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface. Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly. He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft. It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move. The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it. How did you find yourself here? You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense. And...you kind of like that it didn’t. Because it didn’t have to. You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now. Would it be in poor taste? Would he think less of you if he knew? Did he know? Did he feel the same way? You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something. You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache. And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...

But that didn’t matter. Not now.

You looked down at your hands. If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap. Bakugou wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first. But was now the perfect time? Would there ever be a perfect time? After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.

Your eyes met. He was looking at you too.

No. No, you weren’t waiting. Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for. If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him. His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm. The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours. His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly. Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees. Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you. He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his. He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away. He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair. Was he waiting to see what you would do? Was he too scared to move on his own? You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face. Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand. If you’re going to do this, then mean it. Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad. He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you. Fighting to let you know. Had you been so entirely blind all this time?

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw. But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty. Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt. So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his. It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster. You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence. It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought. All that mattered was him. All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow. You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for. Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling. Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite. He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you. And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough. Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp. Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm. He should have never looked at his phone. He should have never told you about Bakugou.

He should have never let you get so close.

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door. At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other. But then, he saw your face. His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou. A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving. He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more.

Something Shinsou couldn’t have. Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long. He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk. He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident. It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms. No one knew he was gone. His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open. Blood pooled and ran down his arm. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again. The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note: I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world. Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway. I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one. I don’t know. I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it. Especially given the newer chapters.

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene. First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing. And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :) I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

Tag List! If you want to be added, let me know!

@snaspants | @purplebellybell | @sxlenced-xf-lxvers |

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

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BSD x university au hc’s | pt. 2

part 2 of the university au hc’s !! i am obviously a slut for chuuya and fyodor so don’t mind me. i hope you guys like this !!

check out pt. 1 here

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Akutagawa Ryuunosuke:

i love akutagawa ryuunosuke my angst child but i’m just like ‘hmmmmmmm’ when it comes to what his course would probably be

after extensive research aka reading his character page on wiki i feel like maybe he’d be a history major because,,,, he likes antiques?

well his clothes do seem very dark academia-esque and i can see him liking something as cool as history

akutagawa’s probably into something like war history but he’s not weird about it he just finds it really cool how different strategies work or analyzing what exactly makes the winners win

he absolutely HATES the fact that he keeps having to read the Iliad for class

he’s also that classmate who INTENSIVELY DEFENDS achilles for being a bit of a little bitch (but he fully agrees that patroclus and achilles were gay af ok this was random moving on)

akutagawa has practically no social life. he doesn’t go to parties, he doesn’t talk to his roommate, he doesn’t even like to eat in the dining hall

BUT he absolutely loves being in debate team because WINNING

he’s such a nightmare to work with though but he just delivers so well when it’s time for him to speak. like, if he’s on a negative and it’s time to hash out rebuttals, just prepare to get MURDERED

other debaters: “esteemed scholars and adjudicators...”

akutagawa: “you, sir, have no idea how wrong you are.”

that is until dazai decided to randomly show up at a debate tournament all ‘la di da da’ like and completely crushed akutagawa along with his ego

from then on he started stalking dazai and just SOMEHOW managed to end up in his circle of friends

even though he’s antisocial in real life, akutagawa 100% runs a dark academia aesthetic blog on tumblr i’m right and i don’t accept criticism

it’s actually really good he has a ton of followers and even does requests for moodboards if someone asks nicely

atsushi was the one who actually found out about it but he’s nice so he didn’t tell akutagawa about it

kunikida probably follows that blog

Chuuya Nakahara:

if this part sounds like i’m just thirsting for chuuya then you’re absolutely right i love wine man

don’t get mad at me but i can ABSOLUTELY SEE HIM MAJORING IN FASHION DESIGN I MEAN LOOK AT HIM

he’s just always had such a good eye for fashion and he’s veryyy meticulous when it comes to snipping and putting together clothes

chuuya also carries a sketchbook full of designs and his drawings look amazing and he isn’t afraid to just show them off

that said he doesn’t dress like a tired uni student at all, like he just always looks so on-point and unbothered by his five million deadlines

dazai: chuuya, i said this was a CASUAL LUNCH

chuuya, dressed in what looks like silk pajamas: THIS IS CASUAL

tbh if he just wore a white t-shirt and jeans i would die maybe he’s actually saving us from this ordeal

he has so much talent though as a designer he’s probably had several internships with design companies all throughout his years at uni

i feel like chuuya’s also really active in extracurriculars and has been in leadership positions in some of them (he probably runs the student org for fashion design)

chuuya in a student band though oh my gosh i can’t breathe i can’t breathe him as a VOCALIST?? and wearing torn jeans and eyeliner and that same hat in concerts ican’t brEATHE

okay in all honesty he would thrive being in a band chuuya loves the attention and the creativity of being able to design their whole look and write songs

tbh i don’t know if he’d have a roommate chuuya’s probably the type who’d rather have one of those single rooms or just rent a flat for him to stay in even after graduation

because his social life is super vibrant, he does have a lot of friends and he does make an effort to get to know all of them individually

but he’s more open around those who he’s been friends with for a really long time and as much as he’d like to say dazai isn’t one of them, he is

also chuuya is definitely the type to party hard during the weekends and has more than once crashed in someone’s house after drinking too much (dazai drew on his face on more than one occasion)

Oda Sakunosuke:

i love this man SO MUCH you guys have no idea i would literally die for him

100% this guy majors in creative writing because this is supported by FACTS and not just me wanting to be coursemates with him in this fictional world

super serious and diligent with his work especially since he’s passionate about writing. he loves to read in his spare time and is such a fan of classic novels about social realism or philosophy

oda spends 99% of his time in second-hand bookshops that the owner probably knows him by name at this point

he’s super old school when it comes to writing though, like he still keeps and writes in a notebook before typing it up on a laptop and no matter how many times dazai tells him its impractical, oda just keeps doing it

lmao whenever workshops come around he’s super nice with his critique. i bet a lot of his fellow classmates like sending their writing drafts to him

he draws smiley faces and always adds ‘nice work’ on people’s drafts omg i love odasaku

he’s such an old soul, he probably doesn’t do a whole lot of partying but he likes more quiet, private social events like drinking with close friends or just hanging out and talking at other people’s houses

he and dazai probably met when dazai decided to take an intro to creative writing class and wrote a long poem about double suicide on his first day that kind of put off everyone in the class from wanting to sit with him

odasaku was the only one who wasn’t exactly bothered but he did give dazai some comments to help him with his poetry and dazai instantly wanted to be his friend

in terms of extracurricular life, i can definitely see odasaku joining a writing organization and even the campus newspaper. he does find joy in interviewing students for newspaper articles

he’s also pretty into photography and uses a really old, second-hand camera that he bought at an antique store and fixed himself. at one point he won a prize in a contest

odasaku would be the best roommate. he’s super sensitive to when you have a bad day and will invite you to sit on his bed and hug his pillow and talk about your problems

scratch that, everyone talks to odasaku about their problems and now your room is like a therapist’s office

Edgar Allan Poe:

i swear this was the only gif i could find other than actual edgar allan poe

ANOTHER CREATIVE WRITING BUDDY AHHH I WOULD LOVE TO BE BESTIES WITH HIM AHHH

well actually i feel like since he’s super ambitious and already has a fixed idea on the stuff he likes to write, he’d probably double major in something like forensic science because he’d use it to write his mystery novels

omg that’s where he meets ranpo and now pretty much every main character poe writes is slightly based on on ranpo

it’s a problem. his professor brings it up more than once during his classes but it’s poe’s Thing now

he also has such an unending passion for gothic literature and he wears those white, long-sleeved blouses and waistcoats on a REGULAR BASIS

chuuya probably saw him once and was like ‘hmm, i could pull that off’

poe’s daily route is just going to the library and to class and then go home and that’s about it

he ended up working as a student assistant at the library because he’s just super familiar with the book collections and it’s a job that’s peaceful and quiet

more than once though, he’d just be really in-deep with his writing to the point that he doesn’t even notice that the library has closed or that he hasn’t eaten the entire day

that’s alright though because ranpo always passes by the library at night to check on his friend and (reluctantly) give him some snacks

also since poe’s pretty much a recluse, he doesn’t go to any social event UNLESS it’s a halloween-themed one

he loves going all out with his costumes because he’s a Drama Queen like that but the problem is he keeps dressing up as gothic novel characters and nobody gets it

dazai, trying to guess his costume: umm,, Two-Face from Batman?

poe: IT’S DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

there was this one time when poe took it upon himself to host the halloween party and it was EPIC

he basically designed it as a murder mystery night wherein everyone who came pretended to be guests at a house and then a murder happened

the only problem was that ranpo was conspiring with poe and it was pretty much unfair

except for the fact that ranpo was frustrated at how bad everyone was at deducing that he ended up solving the mystery for them

Fyodor Dostoevsky:

one of my favorite scenes of him in s3 was of fyodor playing the cello because god damn that is beautiful and therefore i am hc-ing him as a music major and you can’t tell me otherwise

fyodor is an absolute music genius and he was definitely scouted by the university’s music program and then he was granted a scholarship (because in this ideal university, the arts are valued)

he purposely decided to go to a university rather than a music conservatory because he’s also interested in learning a bunch of other things

aside from his music classes, he ventures into comparative literature and philosophy, even a bit of computer science at some point

people always assume that since he’s a music major he probably wouldn’t do well in other subjects but SURPRISE BITCH

anyway, fyodor’s a genius because god clearly has favorites

aside from attending class, he’s even part of an official orchestra and has even landed a few solos

that said, he’s quite busy and very preoccupied in his own work to actually have a social life either

you’ll often find him rehearsing by himself in an empty classroom for hours and hours on end (someone pls bring him food he’s also the type to forget to eat or even drink water)

if you are able to catch him perform at an orchestra or just practice by himself, it’s quite a mesmerizing sight. his eyes are often closed so he could focus on the sound alone and his fingers move so elegantly along the neck of the cello

(sorry i just love people who play any form of stringed instrument)

fyodor also takes such good care of his cello. also he would probably kill you on the spot if you touched his bow

he has a fairly small group of friends and they like playing chess together (even though fyodor is better than all of them) and just talk about um,, idk philosophy and stuff (whatever it is smart people do idk i’m not one of them)

i have a feeling he actually follows akutagawa’s dark academia blog and loves his content, even to the point of requesting ‘cello player moodboards’

also because he’s a cello player he needs to take care of his fingers so he wears gloves a lot (idk why i find this hot)

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taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd writing #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs writing #bungou stray dogs headcanons #akutagawa ryuunosuke #chuuya nakahara #oda sakunosuke #edgar allan poe #fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs university au #bsd uni au #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bsd scenarios

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percyjacksonfan3 · 3 years

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The Last Olympian Thoughts

So because I have absolutely 0 self-control or restraint when it comes to this series and its characters, and for The Last Olympian in particular, I could not put TLO down. Because of this I figured I couldn’t do the usual photo reaction posts I have been so far, because the spam would just be ridiculous, so I am stealing the idea from @yourstrulytaaay to do a masterpost instead. (Adding a Read More cause this got ridiculously long)

Fun fact, TLO came out right after i finished reading the series for the first time so it's the first PJO book i bought and my only hard cover one for the og series. I checked the year and turns out it was published 2009, which means i was actually 9 when i read the series for the first time. I realize this is not really a fun fact but i thought i was older when I first read the series so it's blowing my mind a little ‘cause now I’m 21 and everything hits different and i still have so much love for this series and the characters Okay onto book thoughts: - i was right that this book is gonna destroy me, the first line alone made me so excited and nostalgic it's ridiculous - I love Rachel and Percy sm tbh. Her being a bit of peace and normalcy in his life without always reminding Percy of who and what he is is so good for him. Just a little escape

- of course by the end of the book that's not the case any more but by the end he's lived his prophecy so he doesn't need it as badly, plus he and Annabeth are solid again - Percy saying Annabeth has been hard to be around lately... Ouch my heart. Luke really is the last thing that keeps them from being together and Percy is so jealous and Annabeth so torn and in pain, i feel so bad for them both

- Beckendorf 🥺🥺 - the telkhine with the Lil Demon lunchbox!! I forgot about him. Percy: 'i left him alive, partly because his lunchbox was cool' is one of my absolute favourite lines tbh - Paul taking Percy crabbing and being imperative in helping Percy kill the giant crab 💖 Paul Blofis is important and deserves the world, okay? - aw Percy, you can't save every demigod bb

- 'i had to fight him eventually. Why not now?... What difference would a week make?' Oh Percy you have no idea - real talk tho, the fact Kronos possessed Luke's body would also mess me tf up. Percy keeps forgetting it's not Luke anymore and yeah, that would be so so hard and confusing af, like what another smart little mind game for Kronos to pull on top of everything else - the fact Percy fights Kronos before getting the Achilles Curse and actually doesn't die within seconds is... Astounding. He kicks him in the chest! And yeah Kronos is weaker and still adjusting to Luke's body, but Percy is having trouble fighting Luke cause they used to be friends - Percy breaks Kronos' time magic!! Like?! Boy is POWERFUL.

- OUCH - honestly Luke, Thalia and Annabeth's family breaking the way it did... Don't talk to me. Poor Annabeth, Luke betrayed them, Thalia joined the Hunters because of Luke's betrayal so she's pretty much AWOL all the time and then Luke dies. Like Rick wtf, my heart can't take it? -Percy and Tyson having each others backs when talking to Poseidon in the underwater palace is the brother-brother relationship we love to see - Percy trying to stick a sand dollar in the vending machines at school 🤦🏻‍♀🤦🏻‍♀ - the whole underwater interaction at Poseidon's palace? Perfection. Awkward family drama and all - Connor falling out of the tree when he sees Percy because he's so excited 😂😂

- 😭💖

- k, ik Clarisse isn't perfect but tbh if i was a child of Ares whose father was disrespected and hated by my fellow campers (ares deserves it but still) and that disrespect trickled down to how the other campers treated ME (which if Percy is reliable here, it obviously does) then i would also be irritated at being used for muscle and nothing else? And just expected to fight with the people who act as if they'd rather not have Ares kids around the rest of the time. Like Clarisse isn't totally wrong - Percy reading the prophecy, seeing he's meant to die and just being like 'i do not see it' and refusing to outright think about it makes me so sad for him - (but it taints every action after and he's super reckless afterwards bc of it- including finally breaking and accepting the Achilles Curse) - (also him taking this as the last straw and finally beginning to show Annabeth how he really feels, cause fuck it, he's dying anyway) - Give me more info about Rachel's backstory and family Rick!! - how did i forget Percy willingly eats chocolates that taste like cardboard because 'i didnt have anything against cardboard' like sir? Ik Silena didn't want them but still? - 'she'd always been cute, but she was starting to be seriously beautiful' STOP, MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT - Percy staring at Annabeth and forgetting what they're talking about cause hes so distracted 👌🏻

- hmm yeah... For some strange reason.... - i forgot how Percy totally bombs this convo bw them and now want to cry 😭 Annabeth is trying to talk about what's important and Percy, you sweet oblivious man, you're shooting her down without even realizing - love that they're both on the same wavelength tho. Percy two lines before, hmm it's cool to date ppl from other cabins, wonder why im thinking that around Annabeth, my best friend in the world, and then Annabeth a beat later, hmm, let me bring up Silena and Beckendorf and how it's important to be with the people you love when you have the chance, no way Percy will miss this huge hint right? - they're the best - k i honestly forgot Percy full on physically intimidates Leneus like that - luke telling his mom if he ran away the monsters wouldnt get her..i can just imagine luke crying when he says good bye before running away because he thinks it's his fault his mom is like that and he cant take care of and protect her anymore because it's too hard - uh oh now i have angsty pre-lightning thief luke fic inspo... Him, Thalia and Annabeth on the run... The ANGST - Rick holds absolutely nothing back in this book and i am in pain - HESTIA!! 💖💖🥰 - actual loml - i love that Rick titled this book after her and that he wrote such a great series about the importance of family (biological, found or otherwise) and home, and that he said actually Hestia is the most important bc shes the most humble and keeps the peace and knows when to fight and when to yield and you protect what you love, which is your home - i just... Adore Hestia - Grover! Missed you babes - Hades is so so horrible to Nico, always comparing him to Bianca :/ - but i do love Hades, Persephone and Demeter together they make me laugh - oh god the River Styx - Achilles 🥺 - Annabeth being Percy's lifeline is, and continues to be, A Lot™ - 'my name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth's hand.' LOL Why am i crying? - Like the fact there is no Percy without Annabeth, and that remembering her literally reminded him of who he is in his very soul... It's fine im fine - i won't even get into the parallels of her being his lifeline now and then later when Hera takes his memories but leaves the memory of Annabeth for Percy to fight to get back to (anyone who wants to yell about it with me... Feel free to message) - badass Percy is my fav Percy tbh - him defeating Hades?? Like? Hades is arguably the most powerful god, okay - i feel bad for Nico but if i was Percy I'd do the exact same, Nico, sorry man but this is a high stakes time crunch deal and Nico is literally the only hope of persuading Hades and distracted by his own internal stuff - flashbacks to Luke, Thalia and Annabeth hurt, ow - George and Martha are the best - damn i forgot Hermes full on nearly kills Percy here, yikes - Luke stop cockblocking Percabeth challenge

- i love!! Percy's love for New York!! So much!! - Percy leaving to live in New Rome in HoO is a lie and this is all the proof i need for why - the fact the entire last half of the book is the battle and aftermath... Such great buildup and pacing. All the tricks and twists and battles in this War of Manhattan? I would not take out a thing, Rick, you legend - of course then the final battle in hoo with the gods is what? Two pages? Ugh, don’t talk to me about my hatred for BoO and HoO - 'no detours you two' is still the cutest thing!!! - THE HUNTERS!! Thalia i missed you - good job Percy, you finally spent your sand dollar - Minotaur!! - 'dont i get a kiss for luck? Its kind of a tradition right?' Percy finds out he's gonna die and is out of fucks to give and honestly I support him - also Michael just standing beside these two while they're flirting like umm 👀 👀 while a monster army marches towards them, nbd - Annabeth taking Ethan's knife meant for Percy!!! Cause she just knows his weak spot without him even telling her! They literally invented love - Feral Percy is so scary omg, i love how well Rick incorporates the Achilles Curse in this novel, with the whole heightened weaknesses and stuff ans the parallels to Achilles arrogance being what killed him and Percy's loyalty, fierceness and protective instinct being his own heightened weakness - the fact that Percy is the one who inadvertantly kills Michael Yew tho, I'll never recover from that - the fact Hades offers Maria di Angelo a golden palace by the Styx like how Poseidon offers Sally a palace under the sea tho. Let's talk about that parallel - the entire talk with Prometheus is so so good - not me picturing young Luke hiding in the closet to get away from his mom when she has an 'episode' -i love callbacks in stories and all of the callbacks to the rest of the series in this book make me very happy (medusa, minotaur, the underworld, Rainbow!! My baby!!, Daedalus and more) - Percy summoning a wholeass hurricane against Hyperion - the Party Ponies! They're so chaotic, i love it - Dionysus! 😁 I can't help it, i love him - Percy absolutely losing it when he sees Sally and Paul asleep in the car 🥺 - Rachel telling Percy he's not the hero screws with him so much :( poor bb - although i really really love how Rick wrote this, it's so refreshing to not have one chosen one save the world, but a combination of people - the drakon, Silena and Clarisse make me cry - the Patrochilles references, im not okay - Annabeth giving up on Luke after hearing what he did to Silena and Percy telling her that doesn't make him happy 😭 that whole interaction makes my heart ache - Percy giving Hestia Pandora's pithos 🥺 - and Hades, Nico and the others coming for a final attack is so badass, i love it - listen im glad the og trio were the ones to confront Luke on Olympus but the fact Thalia got so close and then pinned by a statue of HERA makes me so sad. Ik her and Luke were finished and she coped by cutting him off completely and giving up all hope but i would pay money to know what they would have said to each other to say goodbye - Ethan 🥺 - Poseidon joining the fight against Typhon is so cool, such a great scene - 'PEANUT BUTTER!' - Annabeth you brilliant badass you - RIP Luke, you werent great but you werent the worst either - the gods just rolling up seconds too late, wondering wtf happened in Olympus and who the dead body is - the chapter where the Olympians meet and give out rewards is one of my absolute favourites (again i am incensed we didn't get anything like this in HoO) - will Percy turning down immortality ever not make me scream in glee? No? Alright then - Annabeth being relieved like Percy was relieved at the end of Titan's Curse tho - oh Hermes :/ - its so hard reading all this and knowing what comes in HoO... Like it's such a cathartic, earned and mostly happy and peaceful ending and then HoO comes along and undermines it all - aww Rick let Paul see Olympus somehow pls, he deserves it, he killed a dracanae - (i would also love to see it) - Percy being more upset Rachel took his pegasus than her going to Camp and possibly dying, lol, priorities dude - i honestly think that Rick had other ideas for the second Great Prophecy and how things would go down in BoO, cause the prophecy like... Barely applies to BoO, Doors of Death are in book four, and explabations of it is all so unclear when Rick is usually pretty good with that stuff - PERCABETH - lol Percy complaining about privacy when he and Annabeth are caught kissing literally in the middle of the very open and public dining pavilion, okay - BEST UNDERWATER KISS OF ALL TIME - that's it and im a glass case of emotion - very happy to say that this series remains my favourite of all time 💖

If anyone ever wants to come gush about anything Riordanverse related feel free, because as you can see I have a lot of thoughts about it all

#lau rereads pjo #the last olympian is my favourite book for a REASON #honestly every line is killer #so much subtext to read into #the dialogue #the relationships are dialed up to 11 #every character is so on point #the battle strategies too? are just so interesting?#I just adore it #Tay don't read any of this yet cause it's all spoilers #alright I'm gonna go write fic to express these feelings now #tlo #the last olympian #pjo #pjato #percy jackson

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pjoseries · 4 years

Note

“i bear it so they won’t have to” + curse of achilles percy

oh this one’s a doozy, thank u emma 😋

(TLO AU)

══════════════════

Percy doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it—the bloodlust. It starts out as a whisper, a simple low hum drifting across the nape of his neck. It crawls in his ear and settles inside his brain and every time he uncaps Riptide, a single persistent thought crosses his mind: Show no mercy.

And he doesn’t. Not when a hoard of monsters comes barrelling through their ranks. Not when he sees the other campers on their feet, but flagging, exhaustion bogging them down as monster after monster charges at them. Percy holds his own on the front lines, raising his voice to be heard, “Fall back!”

He repeats it again for good measure and the piercing, confused stares from them quickly fade as he gains the attention of every monster in his vicinity. A grin slides across his face and he gives Riptide a twirl.

“How many of you do I have to kill before you get with the program,” Percy taunts. He lets one of them come close enough to sink their claws into his skin, but it just slides right off, ripping through his shirt instead.

The monster gapes for a moment and attempts to slice through him again, but Percy just tsks and tilts his head. “Nice try, but no dice, man.”

He impales the monster in a quick movement, leaving him in a shower of dust. He grimaces and looks at the others. They march towards him, but Percy doesn’t even think. He blocks and jabs and slices his way through the dust and the dirt and he feels nothing. The curse really works.

He doesn’t know how long it takes to slay the last monster. He just knows that at the end, he’s drenched in monster dust and sweat. Percy finally rolls his shoulders, taking in the damage. The borders are safe for now. He spots a few campers a ways away limping and handing each other ambrosia. Footsteps come towards him and he whirls and points Riptide at empty air.

It takes him a moment, but even that’s too long, before he lowers his sword. It’s Annabeth, of course. He furrows his brows. He knows it’s her. She wipes the sweat off her forehead and tucks her cap into her back pocket.

“Percy, what was that?” she asks, gray eyes glinting in the afternoon light.

“I, uh,” he says, pocketing Riptide back into his jeans. “I’ll tell you later. We have to check on—”

Annabeth stomps towards him and grips his arm. Logically, he knows how tight of a grip it is, but it’s weird that it doesn’t even sting. “Did you… gods, you didn’t. That trip with Nico… Percy, that is stupidly dangerous.”

She knows. Of course, she figures it out. Percy’s just a fool for thinking he could have broken the news to her later.

“I did what I had to do.” Percy grits his teeth and steps back.

She tugs him closer. “You could’ve died.”

Percy makes the mistake of looking into her eyes again, shiny with unshed tears and he falters. He can’t stand to see her cry. He musters up a wry smile and shrugs. “I’m here, though.”

He tells her nothing of what he saw as he made his way out of the River Styx, doesn’t say a single word about how the first time he ever felt like he would drown that her voice was the only thing he grabbed onto. All he does is loosen her grip with his free hand and gives it a small squeeze.

“I’ll tell you more about it later, okay?” Her hand is warm and callused from training and it takes him a few seconds to remember he has something to say. “We need to go to the Big House.”

Annabeth just nods and he lingers for a moment before he lets go. As they make their way to Chiron, their hands brush and all thoughts of the fight vanish from his mind.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

It’s on the bridge when he gets an inkling that something is wrong, not with the curse or with the battle itself, but him. It’s similar to the last fight, Percy yelling at the Apollo campers to retreat, but the last of the monsters are dead. All that remain is Kronos himself and his demigod army.

He slows himself down, aiming to knock them off their skeletal horses and send them running, not maim. Their swords bounce off his skin harmlessly and Percy vaguely notes that he’s ruining his already low supply of shirts.

The voice is louder now, but still the same. Persistent as a tic: Show no mercy.

Shut up, he wants to bite back, but he already looks insane just charging through a swarm of demigods and coming out completely unscathed. They make their way almost to the middle of the bridge when Percy freezes, like a lightning bolt just jolts through his body. Then: Annabeth screams.

“Annabeth!” he yells and turns. A guy stands over her, his knife bloodied and dripping. Percy sees red and the voice persists louder again and he’s almost tempted to take its advice if it isn’t for Annabeth’s weak gasps.

Percy would’ve died, if not for Annabeth and Annabeth’s dying because of him. Because he’s too damn focused on that stupid voice in his head that makes him want to tear the bridge apart and everyone in it. She doesn’t even know that’s his weak spot.

He locks eyes with the demigod—Ethan, his mind supplies—and stalks towards him. In a beat, Percy slams his sword hilt into his face and feels a bitter sense of satisfaction as he grunts out in pain and moves away. A couple of other demigods try to come closer, but he swings Riptide as a warning.

“Get back!” he growls. “No one touches her.”

Kronos merely hums. “Interesting.”

Percy just scowls and steps closer to Annabeth. Suddenly Achilles words come back to him: The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. He was dumb enough to ignore Achilles’ warnings and now his weakness is staring him right in the face, her face turning ashy as her breaths weakening. Annabeth. His tie to the mortal world. He should’ve known. Maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he always knew, but the war took precedence. Now look where it got him.

She’s dying and he’s surrounded by enemies.

“Bravely fought, Perseus Jackson,” Kronos says. “But it’s time to surrender, or she’ll die.”

Annabeth sits up and groans. “Don’t.”

Percy clenches his jaw and bites back the panic at the sight. Her shirt is soaked in blood and he has to get her to a healer. His mind swirls for an escape route and, in a second, he yells out, “Blackjack!”

The pegasus swoops and carries her out and away from any immediate danger. Percy’s glad he knows what to do because he doesn’t have any time to explain. Luke—Kronos’ face twists.

Percy meets the scythe with Riptide.

Then their battle begins. And for once, Percy lets the voice in his mind take over.

Show no mercy.

Percy smiles. He won’t.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

The voice stays with him, long after the war ends. Despite how many hours he’s clocking in that affects his sleeping schedule, or the lack of one, he notices that he’s itching for a fight.

It makes no sense. He wants to rest, but the voice tells him he has the curse for a reason. What use is he to his friends, to his family if he lets them go off on dangerous quests to get injured or worse? A couple of extra more hours of sleep is a petty consequence when it means saving everyone the trouble of getting hurt.

So despite Annabeth’s warnings, he volunteers to guard the fleece, or to head training, or to do any of the more dangerous missions. There’s an undisputed agreement amongst the campers that they’ll let Percy do whatever he wants which is kind of weird but it works in his favor, so he’ll take it. Well, unless their names are Annabeth and Grover, that is.

But after this one quest—if he can even call it that, maybe just a favor for his father—Percy lands back on the shore, sitting with his knees tucked to his chest. His hands tremble as they flex over his own legs. The water rushes to his ankles, an attempt to calm him down but he just flinches. It just makes things worse.

Percy’s no better than the monsters he fights.

He wonders if monsters never exploded into dust, if they bleed like he does. He wonders how much blood he’s spilled, how much it stains his hands, his heart, his soul.

“Percy?” Annabeth says quietly. She pads over to him, settling down right next to him. The water drenches her shoes, but she just places a warm hand on his. “Percy, hey. Are you… okay?”

Her tone is awkward, but there’s an earnestness to it that makes him soften slightly. So he lifts his shoulder in response and stares out into the water.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Percy clears his throat. “Do what?”

“Go on all these quests. Try to save everyone. The war’s over, Percy. You can just enjoy camp like everyone else, too. You don’t have to do everything. You’re not Atlas.”

“Annabeth, this curse… I have a responsibility. Why let everyone else get hurt if I can do it? They’re just kids.” Percy unfolds his legs and lets Annabeth’s weight ground him. It’s like the voice gets muffled when she’s near. “And besides, I bear it so they won’t have to.”

Annabeth’s fingers find his cheek and he crumbles under her touch. He turns and Annabeth has this expression on her face that he can’t parse out. He closes his eyes and lets her smooth out the wrinkle between his brows, lets her trace a swooping pattern on his cheek. “You’re sixteen, Percy, not sixty-five. You have to let yourself take a break, Percy. The others need to know how to survive out there without you. You’re not always gonna be there to protect them. You’re gonna run yourself to the ground and I’d like to see my boyfriend awake once in a while.”

“Guess my eyes have to be open for that.” Percy smiles into her fingertips and blinks exaggeratedly at her. She giggles and it sends warmth all the way down to his belly. She stands up and brushes off the sand from pants before she holds out her hand.

Golden light shines behind her, circling her like a halo. He’s suddenly reminded of his dip in the Styx, the way dream-Annabeth held in her laughter as she grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Real-Annabeth wiggles her fingers and he lets her haul him up.

“Promise you’ll take it easy?” she asks.

And his answer is an easy one. He kisses the side of her head. “Promise.”

Then they walk back to camp, their hands swinging between them.

#percabeth #percabeth fic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #f: pjo #p: percabeth #misc: fr #misc: fic #fic: living on a wire #t: ask #emma tag #*#my writing #bipercabeth #je réponds #la poste #prev. biannabethchase #100

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

Text

Passing Days Chapter 15 Preview

Because @partialdignity is a wonderful friend and I felt like writing after receiving their commission I asked of them just last night. This is for you, Carim. <3

Basically, Last Encore still sucks as an anime, but the Robin and Dan Blackmore arc from Episodes 4-5 had me thinking, so here we go for a preview! :D

Roughly inspired by the newest Japanese release of the FGO food manga and how Robin in my game is about 12k points away from Bond Level 10 as of this posting. :)

---------------------

It wasn’t the first time Vy had seen Robin Hood take on a serious expression. After all, he was still a Servant despite everything they had seen together, and fights were not beyond him. It didn’t make the change any less jarring, because the Robin who gently smiled at her in the Novum Chaldea Dining Hall hours before and the Robin in front of her right now felt like two different people if not for the emotion still surging through their Master-Servant connection.

The Robin Hood in front of Vy really did resemble the rogue that had once taken on an army all by himself with the dark look on his face.

“…Little sparrow,” he started, nearly making Vy jump if not for Arturia reaching out to rest a steadying hand on Vy’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“O-Of course I do,” Vy responded immediately, glancing around the ruins of what looked like a former mansion living room that they had all landed in to try regaining some composure. This was supposed to be a simple Rayshift, another mission to resolve a blip of a strange Lostbelt that had shown up before the Indian Lostbelt could be located by Sion, so why— “There’s no way I wouldn’t, Big Robin.”

The Archer’s shoulders relaxed the slightest bit at Vy’s answer, a long exhale leaving his lips. Past the hood of his cloak, Vy could then see a glimpse of a softened green eye reflecting her image. “Thank you,” he said gently, a smile in his voice before he took a breath, the air dropping a few degrees with the action. “Now what I need you to do, Vy, is to take Rider, Saber, and Caster with you and run.”

“Huh?” was all Vy had to say before all she could see was green. Shaking her head only vaguely informed her that the No Face May King was covering her head now, with the cloak barely letting her hear the other Servants.

“Little sis!” Tamamo squealed loudly.

“Robin, what the fuck—” Vy could vaguely hear Achilles yell, but someone was lifting her up and she tried not to squeak as the green cloak on her head was then wrapped around her body, leaving her in a helpless burrito-like state. “What are you doing?”

“If my hunch is right,” Robin said above her head, making Vy aware of how he was carrying her now, “the enemy we’re facing in this mini-Lostbelt is one I know really well. And that enemy is going to be gunning for our Master no matter what we do.”

“What do you mean by ‘gunning’, Archer?” Arturia snapped, a metal boot stomping against the wooden planks of the floor. “You can’t possibly mean—”

“The enemy feels like my old Master from before Chaldea,” Robin bit out in return, and Vy tried to wiggle through the No Face May King covering her to try listening in, words stifled in her throat once she heard the words. “And he’s a sniper, Saber. If I’m not wrong about where we are, he will try to kill the little sparrow once we leave this room.”

“WHAT?!” Mash screamed over the intercom.

It was telling how Tamamo hadn’t said anything after her previous outburst.

Vy didn’t need the entirety of her vision to know both Achilles and Arturia were taken aback, because their emotions through the Master-Servant bond were enough of a sign to read the atmosphere. “…With a gun?” Arturia said, quieter, but Vy could hear the underlying rage. “Without even facing her, he’s going to aim for the head of our Princess?”

Robin Hood sighed above Vy’s hair, and Vy did her best to hold back an embarrassed yelp once she was moved and then dropped into Achilles’ arms of all places. “…Sir was like that back then,” was all Robin Hood explained, and a hand gently rested on top of Vy’s head through the No Face May King. “And I don’t want to be right about this, but knowing our luck, he’s going to be facing us and he’ll want Vy’s blood because she’s the only Master left in this dump of what I think is a former Moon Cell Holy Grail War.”

If the room could freeze, Vy felt like it would’ve long before Robin said all that. Moon Cell. SERAPH. Of course. She still couldn’t forget Kiara, BB, and everything else that happened on the former Seraphix oil rig. Still, she shivered through the cloak covering her. It wasn’t the first time someone was targeting her life. Being the last Chaldean Master meant the people opposing Proper Human History wanted her dead. But this—

“I get that some people want a fight,” Achilles interrupted with an impatient huff, supporting Vy by the undersides of her knees and her shoulders, “But aiming for a Master’s life before even saying anything is a bit much, even for a former Master, Archer.”

“My tails are simply not standing for this either, greenie!” Tamamo quipped, albeit with less strength than usual in her voice. “Explain!”

“You’d have no idea, Rider,” Robin shot back, the hand on Vy’s head tensing the slightest bit with the words. “Maybe Caster and Saber would, but I can’t explain everything now when this is still a Lostbelt. So you three need to run on Rider’s chariot with the little sparrow once I give the signal.”

“What are you going to do, Archer?” Arturia said, a hand on Vy’s shoulder through the No Face May King as Vy continued to try to wiggle out of her cloak-burrito to get a better look at everyone’s faces. “Are you—”

Robin Hood sighed, the hand on Vy’s head patting all over again. “I’m going to fight the Servant that’s coming close.”

Vy felt the panic bubble up in her voice before she could hear herself. Still, past the green of the No Face May King, she found herself saying, “R-Robin—!”

What if something happens— I can’t leave you, why are you giving your cloak to me when you need it—

The hand on her head stilled before patting her again. “Vy.”

Vy felt her voice die in her throat. Past the cover of the No Face May King, she could barely make out the gentle smile and warm look on Robin’s face as he stared down at her, visible green eye at half-mast as he returned her gaze. “Trust me. I’ll be okay.”

Before Vy could open her mouth again, there was a soft whoosh and Robin Hood was gone.

#passing days #fanfiction preview #writing #mastersona vy #robin hood #tamamo no mae #arturia pendragon #achilles #fate grand order #fate extra #fate series #long post #mash kyrielight

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eldritchw1tch · 3 years

Text

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2 finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

56 notes · View notes

shanastoryteller · 4 years

Note

Would you mind writing more about Achilles? Also, a gods and monsters story about Helen would be interesting to see. :) have a nice day!

It hadn’t been a game.

He is seventeen years old, the strongest soldier inhis father’s army, the fastest runner and most skilled archer, and if he’s notquite the best swordsman on the island, well, give him another couple years. Dionis his brother in arms, his dearest friend, and Patroclus had thought theywould live together and die together on the battlefield. He’d thought Dion wasbeautiful and warm and that his hands were the perfect size for Patroclus’sown, if he could ever must the courage to take them.

He is seventeen years old when he’s proven wrong abouteverything he thought he knew.

It’s the middle of the night and he’s walking homefrom a long day of running drills, and then staying later than everyone else towork on his sword dances again and again until he feared his bones would popout of his arms. He’s almost home when he hears a woman scream, and then he’s pushinghis tired limbs to run before he can think better of it. W.hen he finds a manforcing himself on a crying girl in an alleyway he doesn’t think anything aboutpulling him off of her and punching him in the face.

Then it’s Dion looking up at him with a bloody noseand all the air leaves Patroclus’s lungs.

“What are you doing?” he asks, lips numb. Herecognized vaguely that they’re blocking the exit of the alley, that the girlis pulling her torn dress back up and can’t run until they get out of the way,but he can’t bring himself to move.

“What am I doing?” Dion wipes the blood from his face.“What are you doing? What’s your problem?”

He’s incredulous and pissed off and not evenremorseful, isn’t acting like he did anything wrong, and for a moment Patrocluswonders if it’s just a misunderstanding, if he’d interrupted something heshould have left alone, but he looks back at the girl, who’s their age, who’s huddledback against the alley wall with wide, frightened eyes, and knows that it’snot. “I’m telling my father about this.”

“About what?” Dion presses. “What are you so angryabout? You can have her if you want her so badly.”

Rage floods his body chases away any tirednessremaining in his limbs. “You – how could you act like this? You are in myfather’s army, your actions are his actions, and you attack a citizen, and thenpretend it means nothing? I’m telling my father about this, and when he hearsabout it, he’ll kick you from the army and you’ll return home in disgrace!”

Dion gets closer, scowling, and shoves him in thechest. “Are you out of your mind? My father will disinherit me if I get kickedout, don’t play around with me.”

“No one’s playing,” he says darkly, and shoves himback. “You’re pathetic. You don’t belong in my father’s army. If your fatherdenounces you it’ll be the least of what you deserve.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Dion says, and thecoolness of his answer makes Patroclus’s hackles rise, lets him know there’sgoing to be a fight based on his tone alone.

He doesn’t remember who makes the first move after that,but then they’re fighting, properly fighting, not sparring or messing around,and Patroclus is losing. He wouldn’t normally, but he’s been training for hourswhile Dion had left with all the other soldiers, and his friend’s hands arearound his throat and as his vision starts to go dark all he can think is thatperhaps Dion’s hands are not so lovely after all.

Then he can breathe again, and he’s coughing as he rollsover and pushes himself to his knees.

Dion’s blank eyes stare up at him as blood poolsbeneath his head, a bloody rock a few feet away. He looks up a little higher,and the girl is there, shaking with her hands wrapped around herself. “I – I’msorry, he was going to kill you, I didn’t mean – I was just trying to stop him!”

Right. Okay.

“Go,” he says, looking at his dead best friend.

“What?” she repeats, and she holds out her hands likeshe’s going to try and pull him upright, and he flinches. She freezes and deliberatelytakes one step back, away from him.

“You’ll be killed,” he says, knows vaguely that he shouldprobably be gentler about this but those thoughts seem so far away from himnow. “He’s a general’s son, and they’ll kill you for what you’ve done. They won’tcare what he did to you or me. You have to go.” His father outranks Dion’s, buthe doesn’t think that’ll matter to his either of their fathers.

“I’ll tell the truth, for both of us, okay? Don’tworry about me. Neither of us will be hurt,” she insists.

Her clothes are simple but fine. She might be a lady’sfavorite servant, or maybe even a low ranking noble, but even if she’s someoneimportant enough that she’s right, that still means telling the truth. Thatstill means everyone knowing exactly what Dion had done, and the thought makesacid rise to the back of his throat. “No. I know what he was about to do to you,but no. You already took the man’s life. At least leave him his reputation.”

She swallows, leaning back from him. Before he can tryand apologize, she asks, “But what will you do?”

He’ll take the blame, of course. Otherwise they’ll golooking for Dion’s killer, and they’ll find her. “Go. If you die, then he’sdied for nothing, understand? If you’re both dead, then there was no point toany of this. So you have to live.”

She tries pleading with him, but he doesn’t listen, doesn’tanswer her, and eventually she leaves.

He stays in the street with Dion’s corpse until dawn, untilpeople start to fill the streets. They see him and scream. He’s silent as he’staken in and when he’s questioned he woodenly states that it was because of agame, that it was an accident, because if he says anything else, if they killthat girl for killing Dion, then it was all worthless. And he can’t have that,can’t stand that, even at the cost of his own life, his own reputation, hisfather’s reputation.

His father won’t look at him as he sentences him totwenty years of hard labor. Most people don’t make it past five, but he’s youngand he’s strong, so maybe he has a chance.

Patroclus hopes it kills him long before five years.

But he never makes it there, instead of being cartedoff he’s brought to a palace room in the middle of the night. Inside it is KingPeleus, the ruler of their small land.

“Your majesty,” he says dropping onto his knees andbowing his head. This has even reached his ears? He’ll never be able to bearliving now, with his king thinking he’s a murderer.

“Rise,” his king commands, and he listens, because whatelse can he do.

He notices, standing, just behind him, is the girl.

“This is Princess Polydora,” he says, and Patroclus’seyes widen. He’s heard of his king’s daughter from a different land anddifferent marriage, but he’d never met her, hadn’t known what she looked like. “Shetold me what happened, what you did for her, and what you were willing to sacrificeto protect the memory of your friend.”

“Yes, your majesty,” because he can’t think ofanything else to say.

The king is silent for a long time. “If you’re truly committedto ensuring your friend’s memory remains pure, then I can’t pardon you, and youcan’t show your face here again.”

“I understand,” he says. He doesn’t ask for a pardon.

A smile curls around King Peleus’s lips. “You’re agood man. I have work for you then, if you’ll take it.”

He inclines his head, because of course he will, forthis man who knows the truth and is good enough to offer him a pardon and kindenough not to force him to take it.

“I have a son,” the king announces, and Peleus doesn’thave the energy to be shocked although of course this new is shocking. “He’sunder a dangerous prophecy to befall a terrible fate should he ever become involvedin war, and so when he was born my wife took him and hid him in a far away landso that the Fates could not find him. She hasn’t even told him that he’s aprince. You will go to him, and protect and serve him, for your life is nowhis.”

He’d thought Queen Thetis was dead, but clearly not.

“Yes, your majesty,” he agrees, because going faraway from all of this to serve a prince, dedicating his life to his king’schild, may be the only thing left worth living for.

“Good,” theking says, and leaves without a backwards glance.

Patroclus is left kneeling, confused, and Polydora comesforward and offers him her hand, pulling him to her feet. “My brother’s name isAchilles,” she says, smiling, “and I think you’ll like him.”

gods and monsters series, part xxxii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

#gods and monsters series #greek mythology #patroclus #if you want to know achilles #you got to know his lover #anon #asks

602 notes · View notes

springtimebat · 3 years

Text

The Autumn Meeting (3/4)

Abram bounces up and down on the spot, his scales dancing across his forehead, his mouth a giant grin, teeth as sharp as knives.

“You’re gonna love it so much guys! You don’t understand! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever conjured.”

“Just get it over with Abe,” Emil whines, checking a small clock in his breast pocket, “We’re already behind schedule.”

Abe stops dead and wraps his fins around his chest.

“Are you always this mean?” The Queen asks, shaking her head at Abram who stares at the floor.

“You’ve read about us, or so you say. Why don’t you tell me?”

The Queen rolls her eyes. Abram gives a wistful sigh. Gus, a disembodied head in the leaves, squeaks in a strange nonsense language that makes his friends smile.

“Start from the beginning this time Abram. I don’t want a repeat of the mermaid incident.”

“The mermaid incident?” The Queen asks

“He started from the middle. The girl already owned legs, yet she still longed for them.”

“That was one time!” Abram huffed, “Now is everyone settled? Or do you need to shout at me some more?”

All three attendants nod.

“Okay, now I’ll start.” He turned to their guest, “Your majesty, you might wanna cover your ears for the first few minutes. The beginning may be a bit muffled but many have been known to go deaf when I slip into my other voice.”

“Another voice?”

“You’ll see,” He grins. And so the third tale of the night begins at four in the afternoon:

{The Two Beings}

There were once two beings

One was of greys, blacks and whites

He lived amongst royalty

Survived in their courts

He never quite belonged

So he also held company with lower beings

Of slime and muck and grit

As the first being grew strong on their discarded remains

He left the royalty and the courts

And ruled along the paper margins of Fairy

Soon after he developed an interest in humans

A hobby many found unhealthy

He’d follow them around

Watched them

Children seemed to be the only humans that would listen to the ruler’s prattling

The being did not mind

For they were interesting

They filled a void that slime could not

Then

One day

The ruler met a second being

The second being was one of light

Of blues, greens, reds and pinks

She was human

She belonged to the upper wall

And she lived her life in chains

As bright and as ordinary as the ruler was dark, stark and strange

She spent her days alone

Hiding her beauty from the rest of the world

An assistant to twin brothers

Frogs

Toads

She was left to feed off of scraps

And to be whipped by a cruel guardian

The first being found his counterpart one night

One lonely night

Peering through his window

He caught her exhausted in rags

Torn at the hem

Hair bushy

Face muddy from soot

And of course

He immediately fell in love with her

So he began his pursuit

Observing her from his own realm

She was everything he was not

Everything he lacked

A great regard for life danced in her forget-me-not eyes

It was a short

Almost too short

Time

before the ruler of the muck and slime was certain she would be a suitable bride

And his determination grew

He’d leave tributes on her bedroom sill;

Pine cones, leaves, twigs and rocks

Each one she took from him

A special pieces of his soul

She tucked them all away

Never to be seen again

The girl ignored him

Acted as if he were not there

And so the challenge went on...

“Exeunt.”

Abram smiles, looking around the campgrounds for a response. Guy whistles and The Queen gives her second clap of the day. Emil, unchanging, shakes his head. Before he can respond, Abram begins again.

“I’m working on the middle...and the beginning…and the ending.”

“Obviously,” Emil snarks.

“Wait I’m confused,” The Queen stutters, “Was there an ending?”

“No,” Abram replies, confused, “Why would there be?”

“This is a workshop, your majesty. A story doesn’t need an ending if you don’t want it to.”

“I know it’s awful,” Abram frowns, anxious tears forming in his eyes like beads of smoked glass.

“I was thinking of adding a subplot with some gremlin people. Like, a parallel romance story line to kinda act as a comedic escape from all the existentialism-”

“Ah yes that would be very fine,” Emil grins, “Very fine indeed Abe my boy!”

“Y-yeah! I also thought maybe...you could help me with uh… some world building and structure and stuff. So it flows naturally.”

“Hmm, good idea. Good idea Abram.” Emil rolls his head back to the fire, which is starting to die out, “Say Abe, can you answer a question I have about your story?”

“Sure!”

“Is your story, perhaps, based on a particular person in this group tonight?”

Abram rolls his eyes, “It ain’t about you Emillian.”

“No not me you fool! Is it based on our guest of honour over there?”

The Queen’s eyes grow wide. Abram says nothing and begins to stare down at his feet again.

Emil smirks triumphantly, “Thought so.”

Gus’ thigh gives a little creak in the darkening wilderness.

“I know that Gus, but how many of those queens are sitting down here with us tonight?”

Gus shrugs a shoulder, giving up.

“Last year, you told me to be spontaneous,” Abram mumbles, “Now here I am, making up prose as I go, and you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it, Abe my boy! I just find it intolerable.”

Abram groans. The Queen sighs in annoyance.

“I’m terribly sorry for existing, sir.” She mutters.

“Good. You should be. But since you’re here you can give Abram some pointers for his story. Make yourself useful.”

“Pointers? What pointers could she give me?”

“She’s a queen you dolt! She knows all about rulers! She’s gonna marry one!”

“Oh yeah! Hey I do need help on the characters innermost fears and desires! Being stuck underwater most of the year makes you miss out on courtly endeavours.”

With that, Abram shuffles closer to the Queen’s makeshift throne. As the group reorganises, a high screech flies through the air above their heads, causing them to lift their eyes to the treetops. The Queen shudders and pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her dress shifts slightly. Only slightly. But it’s enough for the men to notice how her stomach swells underneath the fabric.

“So that’s it then,” Emil grimaces, “A bouncing baby boy. That’s why he’s marrying you.”

The Queen gives a warm smile and strokes her stomach with one hand, “He’s three months old.”

“A big thing for three months.”

A softer, yet hungrier scream pierces the forest and the queen goes back to hugging her cloak.

“It’s the corridors.”

“The corridors?”

“Yes. They’ve discovered I’m gone. They’ll be coming soon. How long will this take?”

“As long as we want it to.”

“My husband will be here soon and-”

“Exactly! That’s what we want to talk to you about. Now quick fussing! Abram! Ask one question now. We still have one story to get through.”

Abram grins, “What do you think of purity?”

“Purity?” The Queen repeats, taken aback.

“Yes, purity.”

The Queen swallows, “Purity, at least the ideas most people have about purity, are phantoms. Babes, the pure ones, the prideful ones, can handle cruelty in their stride. They hold glass shards in their eyes. Beware the little ones; they’ll devour your heart with knives, forks and all. The phantoms, these small shadows of ideas, lead you on and ensnare you in a pretty bear trap marked with flowers. Mark my words, the pure ones will eat you clean.”

The men stare at her. She shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s something my mother used to say to me.”

“Hmm,” Emil turns to Abram, “That has nothing to do with the King my boy. Ask another one about the king.”

“Oh no, please don’t! I don’t think-”

“Why? What do you not want us to find out? That he eats babies too?”

“Nothing! It’s just he told me things. Important secrets you only tell the person you wish to marry.”

“What things? What important secrets?”

“We were sat on the screen porch one day-”

“The what?”

“The screen porch. It’s a balcony in the castle, hidden away with an invisible tarp.”

“What’s its purpose?”

“The glass hides the rest of the world. Puts it on its side. And it keeps the insects out. The panels are covered in their eyeballs and guts-”

“How gruesome!”

“The king, an insect grower!”

“Imagine!”

“And a competent one at that!”

“The nerve of the rogue!”

“The view makes up for it. On that day of secrets, we were watching a sunset, spying on the angels.”

“Hmmph, angels!”

“Yes. The King was talking about angels, demons and the like-”

“Typical monarch!”

“He likes to discuss things that he can’t keep in cages.”

“Particularly to things he’s managed to trap.”

“Indeed, I suppose some would see it that way. I find talk of immortality fascinating.”

“You would, you immortal.”

“Future immortal. We were just finishing dessert when the king grabbed my hand and began to stroke the creases in my palm. When I looked up at him he said, “You know what I wish for? More than anything in the world?” I just said I could guess but I’d probably be wrong.”

“How humble of you.”

“He stopped for a moment and gazed up at the sun, on its last legs. Then he swallowed and looked back at me. He told me his biggest secret then.”

“And now you will tell us, three old pedallers. You will tell us an immortal’s Achilles heel?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not.”

“Very well child.”

“He turned and said-”

“What? What girl?”

“Isn’t it obvious? A soul.”

“A soul?”

“At first, I thought he had something caught in his throat. Like, he meant to say “soldier” or “solar panels”. Anything other than a soul.”

“Oh how perfectly ludicrous! An immortal obsessed with souls! That explains you finally. You’re his pet soul. A human girl he can point and laugh at.”

“I point and laugh at him much more than you realise. I didn’t laugh at him on this particular day. On soul day. I just hugged him.”

“And that right there is why he tolerates you. That’s why he wraps you in cotton wool and keeps you locked up with him. That’s why he smothers you with heavy brick walls.”

“Maybe so. It’s also the reason he asked for my hand.”

“That’s why he asked for your wrist. What’s your reason?”

“For our marriage?”

“Yes, sod it all, what was your reason for saying yes to him?”

“Well, I said yes because I love him and I was lonely. And he loves me and is lonely. That’s how these things tend to work.”

“Why do you love him?”

“Obviously because he’s the grower of insects!”

“I suppose that’s a requirement then? To love a king?”

“That and a pretty sunset.”

“How trivial.”

Suddenly, Abram gives a giant huff. Everyone turns back to him, kicking his legs in the dirt.

“Sure! Sure! It’s fine when Emil interrupts me but when I interrupt his story to ask a simple question. Oh no! Blasphemy! I’m a degenerate! You know what Emillian? I like my story as it is! No subplots, no ending, no superfluous detail, nothing! I don’t need any of this nonsense! What kind of king just sits in a giant flytrap all day, eating babies and wishing about souls and angels and demons and…ugh! I’m done with this Emillian! It took me twenty years to be invited here and I always get treated like mud. But this takes the cake! Enjoy your new companion. I’m going to where I’ll be respected. That’s what I’m doing! Hang around the royalty you despise. Enjoy yourself.” Abram starts stomping away, then stops, picking up a piece of Gus’ chest plate, “And I’m taking Gussie with me!”

He gives a growl then leaves, ignoring the groups’ stunned silence as he gives himself to the shadows.

“Should we go after him or-”

“No. He’ll be back. He just needs to cool off.” Emil replies, gazing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set and the shadows were getting stronger.

“We haven’t got much more time,” The Queen explains, “The king will probably start searching the woods soon and he hates it when I go out on my own-”

“Very well,” Emil interrupts, calmly, “Start your story now. Abram will have to miss out just this once. Poor old guy.”

The Queen sighs with relief and rests back into her throne.

On the outskirts of the never ending forest, encased in smoke, shadows and carcasses, the city of tomorrow outstretches a wary leg. It has waited patiently. It has called her name for hours. Now it will wait no more. After a moment of hesitation, it slips into the trees, merely a grotesque silhouette.

#creative writing #my story #ongoing series #part three of four #fantasy #horror #surrealism #surrealist #parallel worlds #monsters #cryptids #cryptidcore #weirdcore #oddcore #american gothic #southern gothic #nonsense fiction

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o-wyrmlight · 3 years

Note

Tempted to ask about Elian headcanons. But I shall also request Juno and Zagreus headcanons to give a bit more variety

I hope I did this right, lol

Elian

Headcanon A: realistic

If Elian didn’t grow up to be a warrior, he would absolutely have been a chef or a cook instead. Considering that he grew up during a literal famine and has his own complicated relationship with food, he’d be one of those chefs who cooks food for people who can’t afford it. Charity work? Hell yeah!

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He would probably also raise his own animals if he were a chef and end up never using their meat in his food because he feels so bad doing it. This man has developed a bond with his animals unlike any other. He will never kill this pig, this pig loves him and will hunt for truffles and mushrooms for him.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

When Elian finally does die, it will be many, many years in the future. It will be a quiet death, a forgettable one. It will be following a battle that he never wanted to fight. It will be without the memory of Talon or Nania. He will have forgotten his past, his roots, where he came from. He will know that he is missing something, but he doesn’t know what, and he will never have the chance find out. He will not know what he was fighting for. He will die defending Gresha, and Gresha will have long forgotten him. He will die for nothing. He will die for everything. And he will not be remembered.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Elian has a photograph and a journal with nothing but his memories of Nania and Talon because FUCK YOU HE WILL NOT FORGET THEM IN HIS IMMORTALITY.

Juno Steel

Headcanon A: realistic

Juno has always been quietly, hopelessly bi and a sucker for romantic notions. He is a man who has always wanted and craved a romance that is something good and worthwhile. He is a lady who has always longed for someone to hold him, assure that his trauma is okay, and it is valid, and he is valid, and he is worth fighting for. He has always been scared, though, what the case would be if they wouldn’t. So he tries hard to ignore it all as best he can.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He and Rita met when Juno was just starting out in the private eye business. After they met, Rita tried to become his mom friend and ended up becoming his little sister--despite being older. I’m pretty sure she’s older. Right? Juno had absolutely no idea what to think of her and the weird way she handled herself and situations she found herself in, and it took him ages to adapt and get used to it. He still isn’t used to it. He doesn’t care. He wouldn’t trade her hard work and dedication for anything.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Juno became a private eye because he thinks he’s better at solving others’ problems than he is at solving his own. He uses PI work as an excuse to not focus on himself. He doesn’t want to work on himself. He wants to distract himself. He wants to solve problems, but never, ever his own. He’s fine--don’t worry about it. Tell him about your problems. Let him figure out how to help. Don’t you dare try to help him, you monster.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Juno experimented with his gender a lot when he was younger. He and his twin played dress-up together, did each others’ hair and make-up, had a hell of a time doing it. No wonder his mom got confused between who was who. No wonder she killed the wrong one.

Zagreus

Headcanon A: realistic

Even though Zag wants to leave Hell to find his birthmother in the hopes that she can somehow fix everything wrong with his life, he does still see Nyx as his mother. He does love her. He does appreciate her. Nyx will always be his mother, just as Zagreus will always be her son, and they love and care for each other very deeply. But Zag has always known, deep, deep down, that he is different from her other children. After all, Achilles’ journal itself says that she rarely shows favoritism. Rarely shows maternity. So why does she treat him with exception?

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He is super fucking dumb when it comes to realizing people have crushes on him. Even when it’s right in front of his stupid face. Dusa, you are not subtle, not at all. Sweetheart, you’re so lucky Zagreus is a fucking idiot. Zagreus, I will punch you, you stupid fucking idiot. There are literally hearts coming from her when she speaks. She literally tried to ask you out on a date. Zagreus, you’re stupid, so, so stupid. I love you, you stupid, stupid man. Are you a himbo? I want to say you are.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Zagreus and Hades used to get along to some extent, when Zag was a young, young child, before things changed, before he started noticing that he is different from everyone else. Hades used to try to be kinder. Try to understand his son. It was hard. Hades misses Persephone. He still loves her. She was always the more maternal of the two. Maybe Zag could feel like something was missing even back then. Maybe Hades could even see that, and that’s why he distanced himself so harshly from his son. Maybe it’s easier for Hades to deal with, but Zagreus suffered as a result, and they grew bitter toward each other because of that. Zagreus doesn’t remember those better times. Hades does.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Cerberus taught Zagreus how to say ‘fuck you, Dad’ and get away with it. That’s it. That’s the theory. Make Dad mad when you were a kid? Give the good ol’ puppydog eyes after destroying the lounge. Guaranteed, Hades will go a little bit easier on you. Until he doesn’t, because you’re growing up and should know better, you stupid, stupid boy, you absolute buffoon. You dumb, queer mess. I am screaming.

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therainbowwillow · 3 years

Text

here is part 4: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640369768122253312/therainbowwillow

Part 5/??? of my Hadestown AU!

Here’s the premise/ last time on this AU:

Hades’s coping method of murdering people is somehow making him feel worse. Now that he has Orpheus locked up he has to confront his emotions. (Shudders) Thanatos, god of the dead quietly refuses to kill Orpheus, leaving him balancing a thin line between life and death. Orpheus ends up in a dark prison, where his only interactions are with Hades. He’s alone and afraid and he’s lost track of how long he’s been locked away. His memory is hazy. He’s lost hope for any chance of rescue. Eurydice is increasingly worried about Orpheus. He’s breathing, half-alive, but she doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold on for long. Persephone is tired of her husband. Achilles and Patroclus are debating whether or not they should cross the Styx and live in the overworld again, given that they have no home and no living family or friends outside. Hermes, Dionysus and Apollo have finally reached the edge of the Styx.

———————————————

The train squeals to a halt. Thanatos pulls the doors open. Dionysus and Apollo step out first. “Best of luck,” the god of death mutters to Hermes. He nods.

The Styx stretches out before them, its dark waters flow in torrents. Beyond it, Hades’s wall rises high. “This is the underworld, huh?” Apollo shifts his footing. “It’s hotter than I expected. And... darker.”

Dionysus kneels at the bank of the Styx. “Just like I remembered,” he says with a smile. “Cerberus!” He calls.

Apollo just about collapses in fright as the dog trots to Dionysus’s side. “Hey buddy!” Dionysus has to stand on his tippy-toes to scratch behind one of Cerberus’s six ears. “How’s mama? I hope father is treating you well.”

Cerberus notices Dionysus’s companions and growls, loud and deep. “Oh hush. They’re with me. You know Hermes.” Hermes nods, keeping adequate distance between himself and the massive canine. “And that’s Apollo. He’s new.”

Apollo is silent for once.

“If mama’s doing okay, I’ll be back later!” He lowers his voice. “Cerb, I know things have been rough. And I know Hades has been... well... if you see him, give him some love for me. Now. Can we cross?” Cerberus steps back. Dionysus smiles. “Thanks buddy.”

He beckons to Hermes and Apollo. He turns back to the Styx and grape vines spring from the ground, weaving their way across the river as if to form a bridge. Hermes grabs Apollo’s wrist. “Come on. Can’t stand around gawking all day.”

——————————————

The farther they’d come from heart of Hadestown, the clearer the air had become. Orpheus breaths no easier, Eurydice notes. They’d walked four days since he’d passed out and his condition hadn’t improved.

Eurydice sits against a rock. She hums the notes of Orpheus’s song to herself. It’s easier to remember her goal with his song, she’s found. His lyre sits in her lap. She wishes she knew how to play.

“How far’s the Styx?” She asks Persephone.

“A three days’ walk. We’re close.”

“Will he wake when we’re out of here?” Eurydice already knows the answer.

“I don’t know. Get some sleep. The closer we get to the outside world, the more you’ll need to act like a mortal. You aren’t as much a shade as you were in the mines.”

Eurydice nods and closes her eyes.

Achilles and Patroclus take the first watch while their companions sleep.

“How’s your shoulder?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus shrugs. “Better, I suppose.”

“We’ll reach the Styx soon,” Achilles says. “Will you cross?”

“You weren’t planning to?” Patroclus asks, surprised.

“What’s out there for us? The war is over, everyone we knew is long dead. We’re dirt-poor. Where would we go?”

“Persephone would provide for us. Achilles, if we stay here... We can’t fight the Lethe forever. Hades would separate us and our memories would fade until we’d be forced to join the ranks of the shades as two more broken-spirited nobodies!”

Achilles sighs. “We’d have to work every second of our lives if we left.”

“We could work together, at least.”

He nods. “I guess aything is better than this.”

“And this is almost over.” Patroclus smiles. “We’ll get to see the sun and the stars again. I miss stargazing with you. Watching the sunrise. I miss... I miss living, Achilles.”

“I miss it as well. I never got a chance to say goodbye to life. After I lost you, I didn’t think about living anymore. I just wanted to see you again. Sometimes I wish... after all this time down here... that I’d really appreciated what I had before I lost it. It would be easier to remember.”

“I feel the same about Elysium,” Patroclus says. “Hades took everything from us. We had a future ahead of us, an eternity in paridise.”

“We’re always fighting to keep what we can’t have. You died for me. We thought it was over. Then Hades took Elysium and we fought all over again to keep our paradise. And when we lost, we fought to keep our memories. You think it’ll be different this time?” Achilles asks.

“All we can do is hope.”

Achilles nods. They look up at the empty sky, hand in hand.

———————————————

Orpheus coughs. Four days? Five days? A month? He doesn’t remember how long he’s been here. There are shouts from the neighboring cell. At least it’s something to listen to.

“You know why you’re here?” A woman’s voice trills.

“No!” A man shouts. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“They say you have a connection to the Olympians.”

“That isn’t true!” He shouts.

“They want the boy back. The poet boy. You’re a spy,” she accuses.

“No, no I’m not! You don’t underst-“

There’s a sharp crack. Orpheus winces.

“Ugh...”

Orpheus hears the man slide down his cell’s wall.

“I’m no spy,” he pleads. His voice sounds as if he’s holding his nose.

“Liar. You were once a lover of Apollo. You’re aiding him.”

The man’s breaths are heavy. “I can’t remember anything.”

“You heard the song.”

“How long ago was that?” He groans. “I can’t remember a thing. If wanted to help, I couldn’t. And why would I? Whoever I loved, he let me die.”

“Get up, pathetic boy.”

Orpheus hears his shuffling against the stones.

“I’ll take double shifts at the mines. Let me out of here, please,” the man begs.

“We’ll talk when you’re ready to tell me the truth.” The door clangs shut. The woman’s footsteps fade down the hall. Orpheus hears a whimper of pain.

“Hey,” he mumbles, desperate to speak to someone, “I won’t lie, it doesn’t get easier.”

“Do I know you?” The man asks through the wall.

“I couldn’t say. I... I don’t remember much,” Orpheus admits. He’d tried his best to repeat names and events to himself, but eventually he’d fallen asleep and forgotten what he was meant to be repeating.

“You sound familiar.”

“If you remember my name... I’d like to know,” Orpheus whispers.

“I’ll tell you.”

Orpheus’s cell door opens, bathing him in dull neon lights. He doesn’t react.

“Orpheus.” His name, he realizes.

“Hades,” he rasps.

Hades sits beside him.

“This is my eternity.” Orpheus’s voice is empty, devoid of emotion. He doesn’t open his eyes.

Hades looks at the boy. He hates the way Orpheus controls him. He hates that song that can wake his soul. But he wants to hear it again. “Look at me.”

Orpheus looks. Hades sits before him, twice. He’s seeing double, he notices.

“Sing your pretty little song,” Hades demands.

“I...” Orpheus sighs. “I don’t remember it.”

“You remembered last time. Sing.”

Orpheus turns away. “No,” he whimpers. “If I do...” A little sob escapes his lips. “I’ll just forget again. And again. And again!” He yells. “I don’t want to remember, only to forget all over again.” He lifts his head. “Give me oblivion. Throw me to the mines. Anything but this.”

“I said,” Hades growls, “sing.”

A wave of nausea hits him. He presses his head against the ground. “La... la la...” he coughs. His chest heaves with effort.

“Sing, boy!”

“La... la...” Orpheus chokes on the underworld air. He coughs and coughs until he’s too weak to cough anymore. Hades face spins before him. Tears sting his eyes. “I... I can’t.”

Hades stands. He watches Orpheus, shaking with sobs. He takes a step back. “No...” Orpheus whispers. “Please don’t leave me here.”

Hades’s shoulders sink. He kneels at the poet’s side. He takes a flask of Dionysus’s alcohol from his pocket and unscrews the cap. He lifts Orpheus effortlessly and holds the bottle against the boy’s lips. “Drink.” He tilts the flask and Orpheus swallows. He pushes Orpheus’s matted hair out of his eyes.

“T-thank you.” Orpheus whispers.

Hades wraps his coat around Orpheus’s shaking body. “You... You’re alright. Breathe, kid.”

“I... I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Just relax.” Hades holds Orpheus awkwardly. “Listen. I... I’m not coming back here. Just go, kid.”

Hades twists a key into the locks binding Orpheus’s wrists. The chains fall away. He slumps into Hades arms. The king of the dead lets Orpheus stay there for a moment. Then he lays he boy on the ground again, still bundled in his coat. He leaves the door open behind him.

PS. Thank you dearly to my loyal fandom, @thewittyphantom and @lady-of-the-upside-down

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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foursideharmony · 4 years

Text

Mana-Shock

Everybody—well, @today-only-happens-once and many of her followers—has been shipping Virgil with magical exhaustion lately; what choice did I have? Only I figured I'd up the ante: life-threatening magical exhaustion! And then the whole thing got away from me. Whoops!

Genre: Fantasy AU, drama

Word Count: 2,395

Summary: Sorcerer!Virgil overdoes it while fighting a demon. Like, way overdoes it.

Ship: Platonic LAMP (Roman-centric)

Warnings: Exhaustion of various kinds and degrees. Risk of death/mention of dying. Very minor blood. Food. I think that's it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At last, it was almost over. That much was definite. But it still remained to be seen which way it would end.

Dark energy rippled across the battlefield in waves, each one striking the demon with nigh-cataclysmic force. It was a wonder, Roman thought, that Virgil was still holding himself upright, even with Patton bolstering him. Humans weren't meant to channel that much energy of any type at once, let alone Dark energy...but then again, Virgil wasn't entirely human, was he? Roman couldn't remember how far back the demon ancestor was—five or six generations, something like that, it didn't really matter, he was human enough, he had a soul, they'd proven it—but Virgil was certainly drawing on every scrap of that heritage, turning the demon's own power back on it. It was Logan who had figured out the key to defeating it, and Roman who had chiseled way at its physical form until it was vulnerable to sorcery, but only Virgil could properly handle the energy infusing its lair, having soaked in just from the dread being's presence over a period of time.

Virgil was hammering the demon with its own leftover energy...and it was costing him. Oh, was it costing him. They had known it would, that a demon this size would never go down easy, even if they had discovered how to destroy it, but Virgil hadn't hesitated to volunteer. It had to be done, so he would do it.

Roman was starting to think he had never grasped the true meaning of courage until now. It was easy to be “brave” when you had inherited the Sovereign Sword (against which no evil can stand!) and an Achilles Amulet—when your own survival was all but assured and your personal victory was more than likely. Virgil was stepping up even in the absence of such guarantees, and Roman felt a little ashamed to have considered himself a hero by comparison.

The demon roared—an oddly metallic sound—and flinched back a few paces. Virgil continued to press the attack. Shorn of its physical form, the demon was incapable of striking back as long as Virgil's assault continued, which meant the entire venture hung upon his stamina. If he held out long enough to destroy the demon, they would win. If not, it would recover and they would fail. And probably all die. So far, so good...but then it happened.

Patton's spell—the twin gold-white auras as he funneled his own spare mana to Virgil, to help him keep going under the onslaught of the tremendous power he was manipulating—flickered and went out. Patton staggered against a tree, panting, his face ghostly white and slick with sweat. “I—I'm spent!” he gasped. “No more left!”

Now Virgil was on his own, energy-wise. So he planted his feet ever more firmly and, with a faint growl, doubled his channeling rate.

The entire space of the forest glade seemed to warp and twist as the Dark energy was sucked from the environment and beamed back at its original source. The demon let out a wheedling whine; Virgil answered with a wordless roar. And Roman felt like a moron for thinking the young sorcerer had been tapping fully into his demonic heritage before, because now his teeth were lengthening and sharpening before all of their eyes, and his fingers were extending into claws, and there was a faint purplish glow coming from his eyes that seemed to somehow infuse certain things in the glade, causing the sorrel blossoms and the white mushrooms and Roman's own jacket to glow in response.

“This is insane!” Logan wailed. “He can't possibly—”

And then two things happened at more-or-less the same moment.

The demon exploded...well, no, exploded was the wrong word. It blew away, like the ashes of burning paper in a stiff wind, but the wind seemed to come from within it, blowing outward in all directions. Either way, it dissipated, hopefully destroyed but if not, then at least banished back to the Nether Realm of its origin.

And Virgil collapsed.

There was no dignity to it—he simply folded up, one second wobbling on his feet and the next sprawled on the moss, motionless. The other three let out shouts of horror and scrambled to his side. Patton, stiff with fatigue, fumbled in his pouch for his Heart's Eye while Logan checked Virgil's vital signs on the mundane level.

“How bad is it?” Roman asked.

“Bad,” Logan said flatly. Virgil's skin was so drained of color that it appeared almost gray, and his breath came in shallow, rattling gasps. Patton found the crystal he was looking for and peered through it at the fallen sorcerer.

“No...” he murmured, “...no, no, please! Virgil!”

“What?” Roman begged.

“His aura...it's gone!”

“Mana-shock,” Logan nearly whispered. “He completely drained himself. He's dying.”

“No—he can't—we have to do something!” Roman protested. “A mana transfer can save him, can't it?”

“Transfer from where?” Patton said mournfully. “I'm all tapped out, and you and Logan aren't mages. All we can do now is try to keep him comfortable.” He shrugged off his sky-blue cloak and laid it over Virgil like a blanket.

“We still have mana,” Roman pointed out. “We just don't know how to access it at will.”

“And therefore, we cannot offer it for transfer,” Logan said.

“Well, I don't accept that!” Roman barked, springing to his feet. “I'll—we—I...how much time does he have?”

Patton shrugged. “An hour, two hours at most. His power has already started feeding on his base life-force. Once that's gone...so is he.”

“Time enough,” Roman said. “I will figure out how to access my mana and save him! I swear it!”

He strode away from the somber group, his mind racing. Gaining conscious access to one's mana wasn't exactly easy—otherwise everyone would be a mage—but it wasn't exactly hard either. What it was, was unique to each person, to the point of near-randomness—some people found their technique in desperate circumstances (such as this, he thought glumly), while others stumbled across theirs while letting their minds wander. And every mage described their mana differently. Patton compared his to the reservoir of water underneath a kitchen and himself to the pump, while Virgil (oh gods, Virgil) had always said that using his was more like stepping backward into a shadow and letting it flow into and through him. Roman's sword instructor, Mr. Leo, said that for a battle-mage like himself, mana was just one more weapon in the arsenal, with its own associated fighting stances and moves, there to be taken out when needed and put away afterward.

A sudden thought struck Roman. He drew the Sovereign Sword and stared at it. Its light was subdued, without a nearby force of evil to contend with, but he could still feel its power humming, rattling him right down to the marrow of his bones. His eyes widened with realization.

He rushed back to the others, waving the Sword recklessly in his excitement. “I've got it! Sword! Mana!”

“Slow down,” said Logan.

Roman took a moment to get his words in order, giving him more than enough opportunity to take in the scene—as he had left it, more or less, except that Virgil's breaths had gotten weaker and his discoloration more pronounced. Even an hour was looking like a long shot.

“The Sovereign Sword uses the wielder's mana to trigger its powers,” Roman explained. “I can't tap my mana on purpose, but the Sword can! Can we use that somehow?”

Patton blinked. Then he blinked again, furrowing his brow. “Maybe I can...” he said in a voice that barely dared to hope. “Bring it here.”

Roman offered the Sword to Patton, but the healer only lightly grasped the blade, positioning his thumb on the edge so that it barely nicked the skin. He closed his eyes as a bead of blood welled up around the steel, and Roman recognized in his posture and breathing the signs of the slightest degree of meditative trance. After a moment, Roman felt a minute nudge at the core of his being, and Patton's eyes flew open again.

“Yes! I might be able to use it as a conduit! Oh! Quick! Roman, here, hold it so the tip rests just over his heart, like so! Logan, more trail mix please!”

Logan pulled a small muslin bag out of his pack and tossed it to Patton, who poured nuts and dried fruit from it directly into his mouth, hastily chewing and swallowing. Then he shifted position, taking hold of the Sovereign Sword again and wincing as the sharp edge settled back into the cut on his thumb.

“Okay, Roman,” he said. “This won't hurt. But your mana's not used to being tapped in this way and it might resist. If you feel a sudden urge to pull back, you need to..,to not do it, okay?”

“Okay,” Roman said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Logan? Please watch Roman for signs of exhaustion. It shouldn't take much of his mana to give Virgil a chance, but if it fights too hard, he could still be at risk, and I won't have the instinctive sense of when to stop like I would transferring my own mana. If Roman looks like he's in danger of passing out or anything, make us stop. I won't risk anyone else.”

“Of course,” said Logan.

Patton paused, using his free hand to stroke Virgil's bangs away from his ashen face. “Hang in there just a bit longer, kiddo,” he said. “We've got a plan to save you after all.”

They began. Roman hadn't known what to expect, but he was startled anyway at the sensation of something grabbing at his core, exactly where the nudge had been earlier. He started to flinch away from it, but stopped himself just in time. Still, it felt weird, like ghostly fingers fidgeting around inside his soul and flicking away bits of it. The remaining portion throbbed in protest and tried to push the fingers away, and it took all of Roman's will power to overrule the urge. He felt a whimper escape his lips.

“Patton, this is hurting him,” came Logan's voice, distant and fuzzy, as if coming through layers of wool.

“No!” he gasped. “Keep going! I'm all right!”

“His mana is fighting harder than I expected,” Patton said wearily. His voice, oddly, was as clear as a bell. “I don't know if...”

“Keep going!” Roman said again, even though he was starting to feel light-headed. “We can't fail!”

And with that, it was as if a window opened up before him, and beyond the window was a table, and on the table was an ornate oil lamp, its flame burning bright and strong. A breeze, somehow visible, was flitting in and out of the window, plucking at the flame, which flickered evasively. Roman understood at once, and he reached through the window, scooped up half the flame, and handed it to the breeze, which fluttered off somewhere. The window slammed shut.

Roman opened his eyes just long enough to see Virgil suddenly draw in a deep, desperate breath. Then the trees of the glade closed in and everything faded to black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roman awoke, and there was a window. But this time it was his bedroom window, and the light coming through it was morning sunlight. He felt heavy and slow, and it took some more waking up for him to realize that it was because someone had left three or four extra blankets on top of him.

A tidal wave of memory engulfed him and he sat bolt upright, flinging the blankets away. His head spun but he ignored the sensation. “Virgil!”

“Roman?” came Patton's muffled voice from the other side of the door. “Was that you I heard?”

“Yes...?” Roman replied. “You can come in if you want.”

Patton opened the door and entered, carrying a tray of some kind of pastry. Roman's stomach growled, but the vertigo chose that moment to reassert itself and he dropped back onto the pillows. “How are you feeling?” Patton asked.

“Pretty wiped out,” Roman confessed. “But forget about me. What about—?”

“—Virgil?” Patton beamed. “He's going to be all right. We saved him—you saved him. I don't know how, but you gave me more than enough mana to transfer without killing yourself. Now here—eat up, build back what you lost. I brought you some cheese-and-berry tarts. They're loaded with calories and nutrients, just like my trail mix.”

“Not sure I'm up to eating just yet,” Roman muttered. “If Virgil is all right...can I see him?”

“If you like,” said Patton, “but he won't have anything to say. He'll probably sleep for a couple more days yet.” Roman made a noncommittal grunt and Patton hastily continued, “Aw, don't look so crestfallen, kiddo! You accomplished something amazing yesterday! How did you do it, anyway?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but found the memory of how he had accessed his mana flowing away from him. Something about a window and...a candle? “I...don't remember,” he admitted. “I guess I'm still not a mage.”

“Well, that's okay. Mage or not, you're the best swordfighter I've ever known. And you're also a hero. We still have our dear friend because you wouldn't give up even when it seemed hopeless, and because you put yourself at risk for him.”

“I thought you'd be mad at me about that, actually,” Roman said. “You didn't want me to take that risk; I remember that much.”

“Wellllllll...it all worked out for the best, so I can't be too upset,” said Patton. “I might feel differently later, but we can cross that bridge when we get there. Now eat up; get your strength back. I've got the kettle on and I'll bring you some tea as soon as it's ready.”

“Actually,” Roman said with a yawn, “I think I need some more rest first.”

“Suit yourself. I'll leave the tarts here for you; promise me you'll eat something when you wake up again?”

“Sure thing, Pat,” Roman said. His eyelids drooped.

He had drifted off again before Patton was fully out of the room, a flame burning resolutely in the darkness.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #fantasy

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ofmenoetius · 4 years

Text

✖ ▒ OH, WHAT A COINCIDENCE! i was just thinking of [ PATROCLUS SON OF MENOETIUS ]. most swear their resemblance to [ SEAN TEALE ] is unmistakable, but he has / they have been around since the [ BRONZE AGE ]. it is rumoured that the [ DEMIBOY ] was born in [ OPUS ] in the year [ 1205 BC ], even though they don’t look a day over [ THIRTY ]. what a shame, though: they were once famed for being [ HONEST ] and [ PASSIONATE ] ; yet now, they seem more and more [ RESERVED ] and [ MERCURIAL ]. but while [ PATROCLUS ] spends their days working as a [ HARPIST FOR THE LONDINIUM SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA ], they are already notorious around town for [ UNSENT LOVE LETTERS ADDRESSED TO NO ONE ; BANDAGED FINGERS AND CALLOUSED HANDS ; A BEAT UP OLD FLIP PHONE ; THE FAINT SCENT OF COFFEE AND CARDAMOM ]. when you live forever, you might as well make the most of it.

hi, hello –– i’m bella + also the worst !! this is my baby patroclus who’s one part powerpuff girl, two parts physical embodiment of the eyeroll, and generally just has really bad frown lines from being in a Bad Mood for like thousands of years or whatever. ( will not get botox sadly, someone convince him ) anyway –– i am here for every single plot of every single kind !! just like this and / or hmu on discord @ halaldaddy#3725 !!

TASK ONE : THE RUNDOWN

▼ STATISTICS.

full name: patroclus, son of menoetius.

moniker / nickname: officially goes by patrick in 2020, and he has the fake ids to prove it. generally isn’t the biggest fan of nicknames.

titles: tbd.

gender && pronouns: demi-boy && he / him + they / them.

dob && age: april 24th, 1205 BC && really old –– about 3224 years old, give or take, but he’s been thirty for a really long time.

place of birth: opus, greece.

previous residences: opus, athens, larissa, cape town, cardiff, inverness, paris, milan, caracas, && londinium –– in that order.

zodiac sign: taurus.

ethnicity: white && venezuelan.

sexual orientation: demisexual.

romantic orientation: homoromantic.

occupational history: perpetual soldier, squire, orange farmer, lutist, revolutionary, boxer, harpist. among others.

▼ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: sean teale.

height: 185 cm && 6′2.

physical build: mesomorph && visibly muscular && painfully straight back from years of his father’s voice still stuck in his head. ( it’s 2020, maybe he really should go to therapy for his daddy issues, but how do you tell a therapist your dad died before the trojan war ?? asking for a friend. )

eye colour and shape: dark brown && hooded, really long lashes which he does oil at night && also lines his eyes with kohl. it’s habit.

hair colour and style: dark, cropped, usually trimmed neatly.

usual expression: bored, reluctant smile.

accent and speech style: heavily accented english, but it’s impossible to pin down where he might be from. speaks spanish and greek with more ease than he does english.

distinguishing marks / characteristics: both ear lobes pierced, gold studs in both. a shield tattooed on his left flank. plenty of scars –– one across his right eyebrow, scarred && calloused hands, a very large scar that refused to heal right on his left shoulder.

clothing style: anything he can find, really ; athletic for the most part, but smart button-downs ( always button-downs, never button ups ) for work.

jewellery and accessories: a thin, gold chain around his neck ; his an engraved ring hangs from it, tucked away. a deliberate collection of rings on his fingers: a curved edge, yellow gold signet ring from a third-generation foundry in greece ; a classic medusa ring picked up in florence during the renaissance ; a turquoise inlaid silver signet ring ; a silver plated band, worn on his left thumb.

▼ FAMILY.

father: menoetius, deceased ( thank fuck ).

mother: philomela, deceased.

siblings, if any: myrto, his sister.

extended relations: none that he knows.

significant other(s): achilles && only achilles. it could only ever be achilles.

children: none, except his ––

household pet(s): he has two tabby cats named menelaus and ajax ( just a little fun joke for himself, okay –– don’t @ him. )

▼ FAVOURITES.

colour: gold ; every shade.

weather: storms –– it reminds him of mornings spent inside, the air sticky and humid, sweat on his upper lip and a laugh on his tongue.

food item: he’s a vegetarian –– he always has been, especially since he didn’t always have food, especially during the 1100s. so yeah, patroclus isn’t exactly picky –– anything veg and vaguely edible’s fine –– but he does love a vegan burger ( normal cheese, please ). the perks of the 21st century. okay, and he loves green olives.

beverage: he’s a stereotype, he loves red wine. ( fine, he hates wine –– he likes tequila. )

time of day: late at night, late enough that the streets are quiet and the air feels thin and he can breathe deeply.

television genre: not that patroclus has time to watch tv –– plus he’s got one of those old picture tube tvs from the dinosaur era –– but he loves a good underwater documentary. and shark week. and the history channel –– he likes to catch what they got wrong.

favourite era lived: he’d do anything to go back to the day before he died –– anything. to say a proper goodbye, to say all the very many things he’d never said because he thought he had all the time in the world. but also, he really loved the ‘70s in londinium.

▼ PERSONALITY.

hobbies: boxing && reading && falling asleep in the sun.

pet peeves: people talking in circles && liars.

phobias: patroclus doesn’t like drowning. he’s died of drowning once && come back from it, but he absolutely hated it. he’ll take anything over it.

allergies: coffee. which is fine, because patroclus likes green tea anyway. ( well, green tea with like three whole spoonfuls of honey. )

mbti type: isfj – t.

enneagram type:

35% the challenger.

48% the skeptic.

22% the peacemaker.

positive traits: passionate && honest && loyal && dependable.

negative traits: reserved && mercurial && blunt && pessimistic && headstrong && forlorn.

morning routine: goes for a run every morning before dawn, goes to a boxing class, has breakfast at the bookshop on the way home, and gets to work at least an hour early. it’s boring and it’s too familiar and patroclus wouldn’t change it –– he’d rather have predictable than the alternative. he’s tired of losing people and places and old routines, so he’s holding on to this one until he has to move again in another twenty years.

beauty routine: nothing really ; patroclus keeps his beard neat and his hair trimmed. he oils and curls his lashes, oils his beard. he misses baths –– big baths that you could sit in and just stay in until you pruned. but he only has a shower in his apartment now.

sleeping habits: patroclus hasn’t slept through the night since before his first death ; nowadays, it’s a few hours of sleep at a time, and plenty of nightmares to keep him company. the good thing is, he’s very used to waking up early –– rather than tossing and turning or watching his ceiling until dawn, he’s up and out of bed.

oldest belonging: he doesn’t have anything –– nothing. patroclus always leaves things behind, always. it’s easier that way. and sure, he regrets it sometimes. but there’s no use crying over the past, right? not when he has an endless future.

living space && home: it’s small –– it’s really small. but it has bay windows, a shitty little terrace with doors that the wind knocks open, and plants everywhere. there’s a kingsize mattress on the ground, one set of sheets total and they’re made of cotton-silk. orange, of course.

INTRODUCTION : tw death ; tw war .

his childhood wasn’t pretty. patroclus was born too skinny, too weak –– maybe not sickly, but he wasn’t wanted. he wasn’t loved. he was born into a war, and his war was his father. his war was his father’s shame. so when he killed another by accident –– in anger, in frustration, by mistake –– his father was more than happy to ship him off ; and somehow, that was the greatest gift his father could have ever given him. thanks, dad.

it’s been so long, everything feels like a dream. it feels too sunlit and too warm to the touch. it feels too easy. and sure, he can’t remember all that much about it. but he remembers achilles. he remembers being so happy that he felt sick to his stomach. but he doesn’t remember hector’s knife in his stomach or dying that very first time. but he remembers waking up to hades in the underworld, and he remembers the sickening realisation that he could never go back ever again –– he was here, and he was alive, and he still had to leave everything he once knew behind.

patroclus didn’t want money or fame ; he’d only ever wanted a love to call his own and a place to call his home. and since he’d lost both already, he was tired. so he went off to work on an orange farm, right at the edge of the world –– or well, the edge of his world. he was still in greece, news travelling to them every few months or years, and it was alright. he was away from the rest of the world, labouring under the cruel sun and sleeping into the cool night, and waking up to do it all over again. he smiled at the kids on his way into town and gave them an armful of oranges each. and then when people began to wonder whywhywhy he wasn’t aging, patroclus moved on to the next village –– and then the next, and then the next.

it was 1465 + he was in florence when he saw a lute again –– a laugh escaping him before he could start to remember when he last laughed out loud. it reminded him of home, of a long time ago. so he began to play for money and food and a place to stay. and it took him all over the world –– meeting people who’d die before he’d reach his next destination and learning things he’d never be able to forget.

going to war became a habit. the crusades, the gallic wars, the jacobite rising, the war of the roses, the french revolution, the seven weeks war, world war i, the russian revolution, world war ii, and so very many more –– patroclus wasn’t really fighting, but he was trying. he was trying to make sure some good came out of them, that there was some death that he could stop, some blows he could take if it meant another lived. but at some point, he just couldn’t keep doing it anymore. his heart hurt and his nightmares followed him in the daylight.

now, well –– he’s a harpist for the londinium symphony. patroclus has been her for all of about 12 years now ; he doesn’t want to move, not yet. but throughout his many, many lifetimes, he’s perfected and loved the harp –– it’s the only thing he recognises in this brave new world, and he’s going to hang onto it for as long as he can.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

survival of the stubborn: a mentor, someone patroclus met after a long, long time of being immortal, but someone who taught him to stop being completely miserable and enjoy the time they have. if it wasn’t for this person, patroclus probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long.

death becomes you: immortal friends ; the gang, the squad. the ride or dies –– so to speak. they can go decades without talking or meeting, but they get together again every fifty years and know they can rely on each other. plus, they can literally whatsapp each other now –– like, what.

orange you glad to see me: he worked on an orange farm in greece after their first death in about 1200 BC, and met this person there. maybe this person owned the farm, maybe this person was just a guest of the owners, maybe they also worked on the farm, or maybe they just met each other in the village nearby –– but they met again years and years and years later and it was a lowkey lightbulb moment of oh, so i’m not alone out here for patroclus !!

please turn the music off: musician friends + members of the orchestra ( mortal or immortal ) + anyone who’s into music and they might have met each other over the years !! perhaps a mentor or maybe they even totally hate each other, but just about any type of music relation !!

encore, encore: patroclus worked / played in a few different courts over the years –– always the lute or harp –– so this might be someone he might have played for !!

tequila’s my best friend: drinking buddies !! what it says on the tin. patroclus is a miserable drinker, usually ends up spilling all of his secrets, sometimes ends up breaking things.

the war followed me back home: patroclus served in plenty of wars until 1950 –– far too many, with new names and new titles and new ranks every time. to do some good in the world. or maybe they were just chasing their first death at hector’s hands. either way –– this is someone they might have served with !! could be a commanding officer ; a fellow soldier ; or even a doctor / nurse !!

old enemies, new friends: people he just doesn’t get along with. at all. ever. they’re always hated each other, maybe they even killed each other a few times, but just some sort of enemies !!

more to be added !!

#this is so long i hate myself #im so sorry #qismat.intro #qismat.task #qismat.taskone

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales from Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners V

The farthest Cerberus mouth lunged towards Pax. Probably because Pax was now armed with the very item that had caused this puppers so much pain.

Pax assumed he was going to die. He said a quick prayer to his Mayan gods and Catholic overlord and cowarded away as best he could.

Instead of having three heads calls dibs on his own, the one that had hovered over the paw snapped at the others. It made a whining noise, disrupting the attack.

Then, it leaned down and licked Pax from foot to hair.

In the best of cartoon fashions, his hair stood up from the line of drool. If he hadn’t smelled like a corpse before, he did now. Normally, it took a lot for Pax to be grossed out. All he wanted to do was wipe off his face. Considering the rest of him was covered in the same gooey substance, that would do little good.

“Good boy? Boys?” Pax said uncertainly. He slowly set the sword onto the ground, calming the growls of the other two heads.

“Ajax..?” Alabaster’s voice hovered behind him. The relief in Alabaster’s tone made Pax want to hug the Witch Boy. It showed potential for Alabaster to look at him as more than a meat shield. Then again, this relief could come from Pax being a highly successful meat shield—a reusable one.

When the friendly head lowered back towards Pax, Pax hesitantly reached a hand behind the dog’s ear. The dog made a face like it needed to sneeze. But, in good news, it didn’t rip his arm off. He reached up both hands two hands to rub behind the ears, realizing one might feel more like a flea.

“Lou Ellen, stop!” Alabaster scolded.

Lou Ellen giggled, rushing over to Pax’s side. She joined in the petting.

Cerberus’s tail thudded the ground again, sending up little clouds of black dust.

The middle head looked like it wanted to investigate Lou Ellen for more sausages. The furthest glared jealously at the pets.

“Such a good boy!” Lou Ellen cooed.

Alabaster made a sound of annoyance.

Lou Ellen waved him off. “Could you take us to our friends?” she asked, “Would you be a good boy and do that?”

Pax perked up at the idea. He put himself right under the friendly head’s snout. “One smells kind of like me,” he said.

“If Axel was the one that stabbed him, is that such a good idea?” Alabaster asked. Pax suspected Alabaster was preparing a spell to make dogs vomit demigods. He had so little faith in them.

“Axel did not stab him,” Pax said to Alabaster. He turned his attention back to Cerberus. There was a mini-dust storm from all the tail thumping. “How ‘bout it? Take me to my brother?”

“Ajax, what makes you think it can understand you?”

Pax could tell Alabaster had folded his arms by the skepticism in his voice.

As though enjoying the challenge, Cerberus answered on his own. The friendly head leaned down to lift Pax up by his belt. The middle head got Lou Ellen. The angry one snapped up Alabaster by the nap of his shirt.

Cerberus, tail wagging cheerfully behind him, began to trot down along the River Styx.

So close to Cerberus’ mouth, all three of them gagged.

“Can we please at least ride on your back!?” Alabaster shrieked.

***

They didn’t need to ride for long, which was fortunate: Alabaster sounded ready to behead at least one of Cerberus’ heads when the dog stopped.

In retrospect, they didn’t need Cerberus to sniff out Axel. All they needed to do was follow the riverbank. Regardless, Pax was pleased they would arrive in style. And that Cerberus had a scent to follow. Part of Pax was terrified of what Alabaster would do to him and Lou Ellen if they got into the Underworld and found out that Luke, Axel, and Jack were already topside, celebrating a successful quest. Pax suspected that Alabaster wouldn’t pick weasel transformation as the punishment for having them unnecessarily picnic to Hades.

He heard their friends before they saw them. The frantic trill of Jack’s angelic song was eerie in the black cavern, bouncing haphazardly off the stalactites and stalagmites, making it sound like a choir of dead church children.

That type of singing was a bad sign. While Jack loved to hum aimlessly, that type of panicked song meant someone was hurt.

When Pax saw the three figures—definitely too lively to be undead unless the Z or T virus was about to break out in the Underworld (something Pax would both pay to see and not to be part of)—Pax’s hopes sank.

Jack’s red hair spiked like a flare in the gloominess. Axel’s height was the next obvious silhouette.

Once they got close enough to see that Axel had withdrawn a sword at their approach, Pax noticed there weren’t three people here, but four. Luke was a crumpled heap in one of Axel’s arms.

Standing alongside their friends was an Ancient Greek dude that Pax had never seen before. This fourth guy was, in fact, a ghost, making Pax reconsider the stereotypes against ghosts.

Axel’s muscles relaxed when Pax yipped, “Axel!”

Pax meant to wait and let Alabaster lessen the blow for them. Until he saw Axel here, Pax hadn’t considered the asswhipping he was going to get once they got topside.

Cerberus stopped three yards away, growling deeply.

That’s when Pax remembered that, presumably, one of their friends had stabbed Cerberus’ paw. Pax crawled further up Cerberus’ neck to pet behind his hear and keep him calm. “It’s okay! Good boy! Nice boy! Thank-you-for-not-eating-us boy! You can let us down now, boy.”

Lou Ellen must have been doing some similar cooing. Either Cerberus respected that Pax had helped him and really liked their pets, or he didn’t want to risk another stabbing. The Rottweiler let Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Pax jump off, gave one last snarl towards their friends—which sent Jack squealing—and dashed back upriver.

Worry and anger flashed over Axel’s face upon recognizing Pax. Despite the chill of the Underworld, sweat soaked his shirt. His sword arm shook. The skin there was pink like he’d just withdrawn it from a vat of acid. Whatever scolding Axel might be preparing shattered when he saw Alabaster. Axel’s golden eyes softened with relief.

“You brought Alabaster,” he said, shoving the sword back into its sheath.

“I assure you, Pax and Lou Ellen had no intentions of being helpful,” Alabaster said. “What happened here?” His emerald gaze flicked suspiciously to the ghost.

“Luke is hurt!” Jack cried. Without the echo of Jack’s eerie singing or the low thrum of Cerberus, the Underworld felt quiet, their sentences uncomfortable punctures in a natural silence.

Axel must have felt this too. His muscles tensed. He lifted Luke’s limp body for Alabaster to examine.

Pax swallowed. Luke looked like a new born baby or a cartoon piglet. His skin was pink, similar to Axel’s, except it looked way worse, because—you know—pasty white people. Jack would have slapped Pax upside the head for that one. Flynn would have agreed.

“He lost sight of what kept him mortal, so the River Styx started to burn him to ashes,” said the helpful, mysterious ghost, “I told him not to bear my curse.”

“Achilles,” Alabaster said, nodding his head absently towards the spirit. He withdrew some latex gloves from a pouch along his waist and reached to lift Luke’s arm. “He looks pretty good for the River Styx trying to burn him.”

Pax thought it was both terrifying and cute that Alabaster’s cold, scientific curiosity was triggered by their wrinkly friend. Pax and Lou Ellen fell silent on either side of him, staring in confusion at Luke’s marred skin. Mercedes would have scolded Pax for the awful job he’d done gathering information to hunt Axel down. All he knew was that Luke wanted to bath in the River Styx to become shiny or something. He didn’t understand the ghost’s presence or how skinnydipping could hurt someone.

“He didn’t look like this a minute ago,” Axel said, clenching his jaw.

Jack tugged at his hair. “I had to sing him back together! Alabaster, what went wrong!? And why isn’t he getting better?! I healed him—I—I made all the blisters go away—and his skin regrow—”

Achilles shook his head. “I told you. His anchor wasn’t strong enough. I warned him—”

“What does that mean?!” Axel demanded of the ghost. “And how do we fix him?”

Luke’s breath came in shallow, sharp gasps. Shivers wracked his limbs. His eyes would open partially to reveal lazily listing whites. Similar to Axel, his body was soaked in sweat or—or likely River Styx water. Pax saw how polluted that thing was. Axel and Luke were likely to sprout even more super-human powers. Either that or become villains. It’s what happened when you swam with three-eyed fish.

A pang of terror ran through Pax when he realized Axel must have reached into this acid-water to drag Luke out.

“He’s in shock,” Alabaster said. He frowned, turning Luke’s hand over. The witch boy fished along his belt. Pax expected him to withdraw some ambrosia or some other healing substance.

Instead, Alabaster withdrew a scalpel and stabbed Luke’s palm. That, Pax had to admit, was not in his Traditional Methods on How to Heal.

Axel flinched and dragged Luke back.

Jack shrieked, lunging to put himself between Alabaster and Luke.

“What the Hades?!” Axel snapped.

“Torrington!” Jack cried, sounding near actual tears. Probably because Jack knew he couldn’t beat someone as terrifying as Alabaster. Pax loved his surrogate father, but, uh, Alabaster could kick his ass.

“The curse took successfully,” Alabaster said calmly.

He rubbed the scalpel onto his sleeve before putting it away.

When Pax squinted at Luke’s limp hand, he saw what Alabaster meant. There was no blood. There wasn’t a mark at all, even though Alabaster had put enough force to cut open a hell hound.

The River Styx didn’t just make people shiny, Pax realized in awe. It made them invulnerable. Or maybe invulnerability was the original myth…. Pax was bad with myths.

“You had to fish him out,” Lou Ellen said, pointing at Axel’s arm. “Like Achilles’ mom did for him.”

Alabaster brushed off Jack’s whines and panic. “It was more time efficient to stab him than explain I was going to stab him and have you protest.” Alabaster shifted his gaze to his half-sister. “Now, Lou Ellen, astute observation. Axel had to pull him out and Jack had to sing Luke back together, which means the River Styx should have killed him and it means he was in immense, horrific pain when you pulled him out. Jack healed him physically, but…”

“He’s still in shock,” Lou Ellen cheered like she’d gotten the right answer on a test. When Axel and Jack gave her bewildered glances, she dropped her eyes to the black sand. “Sorry, got excited,” she said.

Pax reached around Alabaster to pat Lou Ellen’s shoulder. He understood how exciting it was to meet Alabaster’s impossible expectations. “Can shock kill someone?” Pax asked, unsure why everyone was freaking out. Luke was out of the water, right?

Jack paled. His fingers clutched at Luke’s soaked shirt. He squeaked when his fingers came back blistered. “Circulatory shock—he’s not getting enough blood—oxygen! That explains the weak pulse, the cold hands and feet, the—the—”

The stutter broke into a song. Jack hovered his hands on either side of Luke’s sweaty, pale face. Luke’s shallow, rapid breath mixed with the fluttery, echoing words. “This is where the healing begins, oh, this is where the healing starts. When you come to where you’re broken within. The light meets the dark—”

His frantic, bright eyes flicked desperately to Axel and Alabaster, as though to communicate a message.

“But he’s supposed to be invulnerable,” Pax said, feeling small. At the sight of Jack’s renewed panic, he felt some of his own, contagious like a yawn.[1]

“My curse makes one’s battle prowess beyond that of any mortal and will make one physically strong,” the ghost in ancient armor said, “However, it heightens all of one’s weaknesses. I know not of this circulatory shock, but—”

Alabaster snorted, looking both scornful and bitter. “He was too weak-willed to handle this and the curse only intensified his weakness. We need to get him to the River Lethe.”

Axel looked as confused as Pax felt. It took Pax a moment to realize Axel’s skin must be burning everywhere he touched Luke. Axel’s jaw clenched against it. “But—he’s not in the river anymore—”

Alabaster motioned them away from the River Styx. “You’re talking about someone prone to vicious nightmares. Either his nerves are fried and he’s still in all of that pain, or he passed out and is stuck reliving the nightmare of it. Either way, his body is trying to give up and all that’s kept him alive is Jack’s singing. Unless any of you have morphine..?”

Alabaster held the word in the air, like he genuinely expected someone to lift the drug.

Axel scowled at him. He hated it when people insulated that he or Pax might have access to illegal drugs. Alabaster didn’t know why and likely meant nothing by it, but Pax could feel Axel tense in offense despite the circumstances. Pax could see the resemblance between Axel and their real father in the way Axel went still with rage.

“No?” Alabaster surmised. “Very well. Then let’s get to the River Lethe. If we do a quick splash, it’ll hopefully erase just enough to make him forget the pain without forgetting who he is—”

“His healing pow’r this very hour—Hopefully?!” Jack said between verses, “Shall give new life to thee!”

“Unless you have a better idea?” Alabaster said. His emerald gaze flicked to the ghost.

Achilles shook his head. “This lack of mental fortitude is beyond my knowledge.”

Pax was pretty sure this famous hero just called Luke a bitch.

“There’s no other option then. Let’s go,” Axel said. He grunted and lifted Luke over his shoulders in a fireman carry.

Pax wanted Axel to put a fire blanket between his body and Luke’s, or like, turn Luke into a bubble boy with a full hamster ball that they could push to the River Lethe, but Pax figured they didn’t have time for that.

When he heard someone shout behind them, he realized they had no time at all.

“There they are!”

The shout belonged to a demented grandmother with wings and a fiery whip. She looked like something out of the weirdest porn links that Matthias had dared he open, thinking Pax wouldn’t take the challenge. He wished he hadn’t. It haunted his nightmares for weeks.

Their pursuers were a soccer field away. Two more of those winged, leathery grandmothers flanked the first. Behind these scouts, a chariot rolled across the black sand.

Pax felt his skin go cold. There was a small army of ghouls behind that chariot.

Alabaster released a string of curses. Lou Ellen paled. Jack’s voice cracked in panic. Axel went to withdraw his sword again.

“No, you idiot,” Alabaster growled. “The pit to Tartarus isn’t that far. We’ll be safer with my siblings down there.”

Axel shoved Luke’s limp body into Alabaster’s arms. Fortunately, with the latex gloves, long sleeves, and whatever barrier Alabaster had put between himself and the earlier sausages, the residual Styx water didn’t seem to bother Alabaster.

“They’ll overtake us,” Axel said. Once Luke was with Alabaster, he gave the Witch Boy a harsh shove down shore.

Alabaster’s jaw dropped, in offense or disbelief, Pax wasn’t sure.

Jack’s lips quivered. He stopped singing for a moment. “Axel..?”

“Even with Lou Ellen here, you can’t create a Mist shield that could hide all of us without them seeing someone was here,” Axel said. “If they’re looking for someone, they’ll see through your Mist shield. Mist cracks under scrutiny. If they’re distracted because there is someone in front of them, you can sneak off. You’ll need you and Lou Ellen to keep the Mist shield up and Jack to keep Luke alive. Keep Ajax safe.”

Pax shook violently. What was Axel saying?

“You stubborn, stupid, arrogant—” Alabaster seethed.

“Each insult is costing you a second that could be taking your to Tartarus,” Axel said. That voice was too calm, too accepting, too final. “Go.”

Axel ruffled Pax’s hair with a forced, calming smile.

When Pax glanced back up the shore, he saw why.

That chariot radiated power. It wasn’t just a platoon of level-one fodder. That was a boss fight. An Underworld boss fight. One Pax was sure Axel wasn’t a high enough level to win.

Not that anything could beat up Axel, Pax assured himself. It just didn’t follow a proper storyline. They hadn’t been at this war long enough. Not enough people knew how awesome Axel and his clever shirts were. He hadn’t even had a proper girlfriend yet, and Pax would be damned if he let anything happen to Axel before he got a proper girlfriend. Would he already be damned if they were in the Under—

Focus, he told himself as Axel shoved Pax to Lou Ellen. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Axel said.

Pax’s heart choked in his throat when Lou Ellen’s hands caught him. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t about to let this happen.

“Fine!” Alabaster spit. “Get yourself killed.”

The Witch Boy chanted in Latin, either casting a massive invisibility spell, or something to crack Axel’s will. Lou Ellen jumped into the chant, making Pax think it was an invisibility spell, since he doubted the children of Hecate had been practicing to subdue Pax boys in rhythmic harmony.

Like earlier that day, sparks sputtered near Lou Ellen. She must have been nervous or at least upset at the concept of leaving Axel. Her voice broke once. At least the Mist shield wasn’t blinking like it had been.

Now, at least, Pax knew one of Alabaster’s secrets for sure: he actually liked the Pax brothers. Either that, or they were too good a lab specimen to waste.

“Oh God,” Jack whispered in horror. “We’re really doing this. B—”

“Go!” Axel growled, his voice getting impatient. He took several steps away from the invisibility shield.

Pax wanted to think everyone was weeping at the sight of this beautiful hero, but he couldn’t tell. Everyone had vanished. The only part that looked odd was the occasional spark drifting down from above his head.

Vaguely, Pax wondered how Jack was going to keep singing to heal Luke. Maybe Alabaster could maintain silence and invisibility at the same time?

“Come on, Ajax,” Lou Ellen said. Her voice cracked again.

Pax wasn’t going to wait to see how they planned to save Luke without Jack’s singing. He felt her hand and jammed his thumb into the pressure point in Lou Ellen’s forearm. He figured, if he couldn’t see any of them, they couldn’t see him. That meant, if he ran far enough from their group—

“Ajax!” Alabaster’s voice hissed.

Okay, so maybe they could guess that he had run from Lou Ellen’s squeak of pain.

By then, Axel was a few yards away and the furies were fast approaching, the chariot and army not far behind.

Axel’s tufted ears twitched at Pax’s approach. Maybe it was the fact that the sand still shifted under Pax’s invisible feet. Maybe it was the fact that Pax smelled amazing or that Axel could usually see through the Mist. Whatever it was, Pax could see the instant Axel realized Pax had broken away from Alabaster, Lou Ellen, Jack, and Luke. It almost looked like Axel’s courage faltered.

But neither of them could turn back now. Hades, Lord of the Underworld, was already descending upon them with his army.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D You’re about to hit the reason why this short story exists, and it is for a very stupid reason. Stay tuned next week to see Hades’ hospitality with our Pax boys!

I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

[1] I yawned every fucking time I edited this paragraph, which, unfortunately, had a lot of mistakes.

#PJO #HOO #TFMO #Tales from Mount Othrys #Fidget Spinners #Axel #Pax #Luke #Lou Ellen #blackjack #fanfiction #The next chapter was so much fun to write #The Pax boys=wonderful idiots #Hades is even dumber #I hope you guys end up liking it #I also hope you guys are staying safe!#My cat is in love with out housemate so she's thrilled about him being stuck at home #She follows him around screaming #He's threatened to kill her many a time

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