#remember when it took me hours to paint like this... wow...

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen. Part Two

Wow! Thank you all so, so much for all the likes and comments on last chapter, I was blown away! Every time I get a notification that someone liked or commented on something I’ve written I get giddy, so thank you! And I read everyone's comments and they were all so sweet!

Someone actually posted fanart of peachy keen!! I nearly died when I saw it, so thank you again to @desertrose244 for making that, it’s wonderful. And I’m sorry this chapter took so long, classes got me all kinds of messed up. So without further wait, peachy keen. Part Two!

peachy keen. Part One

WORDS: 9,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

“Bitch, you better wake the fuck up right now.”

A hand whacks you on the back of your head firmly and you are jerked right out of your hazy sleep state. You let out an embarrassing snort as your head lurches up from its position of laying on your arms crossed over the table.

Your eyes squint tiredly against the bright light of the room. For a brief moment, your fuzzy mind struggles to remember where you are, until you realize that you’re still sitting in the break room.

“The time?” you slur out as you straighten your back in the chair. You lean backward, arms stretching out above your head, and strong relief fills you as several pops resound in different places. You groan loudly at the feeling, and blood rushes back into your body parts as you shift them. Hunching over in a chair for a half hour to try and get as much rest as you could had not been a good idea.

The sharp scent of something chemical makes you wrinkle your nose, and you look over to your left to see where the odor is coming from.

Margot sits beside you, humming softly and painting her nails a pretty light pink color. The little bottle of nail polish she is using cost her a lot of money to buy from the supply shop, given that nail polish was a rare find in Bridgehead. Granted, it wasn’t like there were a lot of military personnel or scientists who were fist-fighting over nail polish, but still. Margot had insisted it was completely worth the price, although you had definitely seen her lip wobble when she had looked at the dent in her wallet.

Margot had lasted almost two months before whining about missing her pretty nails, and the next day she caved and forked over the big bucks to get the tiny little bottle. Now, she likes to joke that it’s her most prized position (it wasn’t really a joke).

You yawn, then press your lips together as your right hand rubs at your eyes to help wake yourself up.

“What’s the time, Margot? Why did you even wake me up?” your tone is almost a whine as you question your friend, ready to throw a fit if she says she only woke you up because she was bored.

Luckily for Margot’s physical safety, she has a fairly good excuse.

“We’ve got that meeting with the new team leader, Amanda What-the-fuck-ever, in ten minutes.” Margot rolls her eyes as she carefully paints a strip of polish on her left index finger, tongue sticking out in concentration.

You snort softly at Margot’s clear disrespect toward a woman neither of you had even met, but you couldn’t really blame her. Your own feelings about this mystery lady were mixed as well.

Two months into being in Bridgehead, Amanda Hall was assigned as the field team leader of the new Avatar Program by the RDA. Her job is essentially to connect the members of the program to the important people in the company. She is the one to handle any concerns within the group, any issues with military personnel, any special reports about discoveries on Pandora, shit like that.

She also apparently did data work, collected samples, and would go out into the field with your team whenever the RDA finally chose for that to happen.

All that would be fine and dandy if it weren’t for the gossip from the other Avatar team, who told Margot that this lady was essentially here to report all matters of the program and its members to the RDA. Every slip-up, every boo-boo, every time someone sneezed out of turn, she would be mentioning it to the same higher-ups who would be deciding whether to disband the program or not.

This was very unpleasant news to all of you, given that your entire purpose on Pandora is to be an Avatar. The program was already in a precarious position, being that it was still in the testing stages. If it got disbanded because of whatever Miss Hall said, you’d all be completely fucked.

So yeah, none of you were exactly fond of her, too worried that she might very well ruin your lives.

Margot blows on her finished nail, holding it up closer to her face for careful inspection. Once she’s satisfied, she carefully screws the lid of the nail polish shut and gently places it into the right pocket of her light blue windbreaker.

She rises from her seat to check her reflection in a small, circular mirror on the grey wall of the break room, fixing her hair and smoothing down her clothes.

You watch her, not even bothering to do anything to fix up your own appearance. You’re certain your hair is slightly mussed and your clothes are wrinkled, but you’re beyond too tired to really give a shit.

You hadn’t slept well the past two days, too concerned about the rumors of Miss Hall. You have no idea what you would even do if the program went tits up, no idea what would happen to you or your friends.

Would you be shipped back to Earth, as if you were an unwanted toy the RDA no longer wanted to play with? Would you be forced to remain in miserable Bridgehead, doing nothing but look at samples for the rest of your life? As a xenobotanist who thrives on nature and color and unique things, that would be one of the worst things you could ever think of happening to you.

All the terrifying possibilities swirled around your head, digging so deeply into your brain that you were beginning to dream about it.

So yeah, you were stressed and unable to sleep, which made you exhausted and anxious. These past few days had been nothing but a vicious circle of misery for you.

Margot’s hands pause as they fluff up her hair, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. You stare back at her, too spent to even muster up a fake smile.

She turns away from her reflection, walking over to your slouched form and taking your hands in hers. You stare up at her with watery eyes, and she squeezes your hands tightly and says,

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to be so worried about it, it’ll be okay. The RDA spent billions on our Avatars, they’re not going to throw them away so easily, alright?”

You nod shakily, deep down knowing that she was probably right. Still, it was hard to shake the fear from your heart, the cruel little whispers of ‘but what if?’ refusing to let go.

It wouldn’t even be failing to reach a lifelong goal that would bother you so much, wouldn’t even be the years of school and training and sleepless nights that would all have been for nothing if the program was discontinued.

It would be failing to keep the promise you had made to your mother as she lay on her death bed that would be the worst of it.

Oh, your sweet, vicious mother. Once so kind and caring toward you as a child, she turned spiteful once her mind and body began to weaken. Bitterness and regret seeped into her heart and turned it as dead and cold as her husband, and the name-calling, the pinching, and the ugly insults began by the time she was confined to her hospital bed.

For five years you stuck by her side through it all, through the malice and the failed treatments and deterioration. You stayed by her side even when your aunt on your father’s side offered to take you away, because she was your mother, and you would love her always. Even on the bad days when she couldn’t even remember who you were, you stayed with her.

Through all the nastiness and difficulty, your mother’s true person would shine through sometimes, like when she told you about your father, when she made you promise to follow your heart and never let anyone or anything get in the way of your dreams. Those were the moments you stayed for.

And so, even the mere thought of letting her or yourself down, of failing to keep your promise, scared you to death.  

You shake your head, pushing the ugly thoughts back into your mind so you could focus on kind, lovely Margot.

It’ll be okay. You’ll see.

You swallow thickly, squeezing Margot’s hand tightly in your own.

“I know, Margot, I’m okay. I just need a little time to adjust, that’s all,” you smile shakily at her, and she looks at you, eyebrows furrowing with concern even as she smiles back.

“Right. Right, honey,” she tears her eyes away from you to glance at the clock, eyes widening when she sees the time, “Oh shit, sugar! We gotta go!”

Margot pulls you up from your chair by the hands she was still holding, and you sway dizzily as blood rushes back into your head. You barely have time to pull on the tennis shoes you had kicked off underneath the table before she’s tugging on your hand and you’re out the door.

“Margot, slow down!” you laugh quietly as you almost trip over the shoes not quite pulled over your feet correctly, and it feels so, so good to laugh again, even if it is just slightly. You hadn’t realized it’s been days since you felt genuinely well.  

Margot glances back at you, grins, and picks up her pace. Before you know it, you’ve reached the conference room, and you drop Margot’s hand and kneel to fix your shoes properly. Then you finally find the motivation to put your hair into a ponytail, straighten your clothes, and take a few breaths to calm your nerves.

Once you are ready you nod at Margot, and she nods back before opening the glass door to the room.

Inside is a long, metal table surrounded by ten chairs, along with an enormous whiteboard, several holotablets, and other various fancy-looing equipment.

David is already sitting in a chair closest to the door, posture straight as he reads from a tablet. He looks up eagerly when he hears the door open, and his overwhelmingly saccharine sweet smile drops fast from his lips when he sees that it’s just you and Margot. He scowls deeply, rolls his eyes, and points to his wristwatch like the little prick he is.

You resist the urge to childish stick your tongue out at him, but only just.

Probably got here an hour early, the teacher’s pet. What a weirdo.

You and Margot reluctantly take seats across from him at the table. It had been very tempting to sit all the way in the back of the room, as far away from David as possible, but that definitely wouldn’t have been seen as very professional by your new team leader. And, god help you, you did want to make a good first impression.

Hopefully that doesn’t make me as much of an ass-kisser as David.

You turn to look at him just as he takes a pocket mirror out of his pants, checks his reflection, and then positions himself in his chair so he’s the first one Miss Hall will see when she walks into the room.

Yeah, nope. Jesus Christ, David.

Barely a minute passes before Emma and James walk just in time, giggling quietly and blushing. They take a seat across from one another, James sitting by you and Emma sitting by David. They grin across the table, clearly amused about some private joke only they know.

It’s so cute, but it also kind of makes me want to puke.

You tear your eyes away from them in hopes that no longer looking at such sweet affection will help your stomach settle. They were awfully charming, but also gross if you looked at them too long.

You know, I wonder if employee relations are something Miss Hall will report to the higher-ups?

You turn to tell Emma and James they should probably keep their affections discreet whilst in the company of Miss Hall from now on. Just as you open your mouth to speak, the woman in question finally walks through the door.

The first thing you notice about her is her hair, bright red and pinned up into a smooth bun. She’s a tall, slender, strict-looking woman with young features, and while she does look stern, she also has a small smile on her lips as she looks around the table and introduces herself,

“Hello, everyone. My name is Amanda Hall, I’m the new Avatar Program team leader, which means that I will be overseeing any concerns you have and guiding you through our travels in Pandora. From here on out, if you need something or would like to speak to the RDA, you will do so through me and me alone. Do you have any questions?”

Your lips thin but you shake your head, and all members of your group rise from their seats to shake her hand in greeting, all smiling as pleasantly as they can. You notice that David is the first in line to introduce himself, and he eagerly shakes her hand and lists off all of his titles when he tells her his name.

Ew.

You’re worried your small smile might look more like a grimace than anything else when it’s your turn to greet her, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she slips her cool, smooth hand into yours. She looks at you, and her smile doesn’t seem to reach her eyes as she says,

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor…?”

Miss Hall trails off and you tell her your name. She nods her head in understanding and then shakes your hand in three perfunctory pumps before releasing you.

The next two hour is almost mind-numbing as Miss Hall talks about her new role in the science division, what she expects from you, all other mundane things that almost bore you to tears. Just as sound becomes muted in your ears and your vision begins to blur as you drone out, Miss Hall mentions something that quickly snaps your attention back to her.

“…and so, your group will be cleared for field-work within the next week or so, and you’ll be able to begin your jobs at Bridgehead in earnest, as well as-”

You gasp, “They’re finally letting us out?! In the next week?”

Miss Hall looks startled as she says, “Oh, well, yes, in the next week or so. Given that it’s been almost two months since you arrived, it’s about time you are able to do what you came here to.”

You slump back into your seat, mouth open in shock and joy. Your thoughts run wild as you realize that in a week's time, you will be in the wilds of Pandora, actually able to touch and observe and collect alien plant life. You’ve been waiting for this exact moment for years.

I can’t fucking wait!

Miss Hall smiles slightly when she sees your stunned face and then goes on to talk about her education. You don’t even bother trying to listen, simply too busy thinking to pay attention. By the time the meeting is over, you mindless shake her hand again and walk out the door with Emma, James, and Margot.

David had neglected to leave with you, staying behind to spend a few more minutes speaking with Miss Hall.

Better her than us. He’s probably sucking up for a promotion or some shit.

As you all wander back to the break room in a daze, you realize that you aren’t the only one stunned by Miss Hall’s announcement. All three of your friends look pale and glassy-eyed, and poor Emma is destroying her fingernails as she picks at them while biting her lip anxiously.

Since Pandora is a dream come true for you, it’s always been difficult for you to remember that it’s not a safe place, not an easy walk in the park, and that you could die out there. You just get so lost in your own head, so busy thinking about all the scientific possibilities that you forget the danger that may be lurking. Your one-track mind is a dangerous flaw of yours, and you hope it doesn’t get you killed someday.

Once you all reach the room and sit down, everyone has some color back in their cheeks, and James has grabbed one of Emma’s hands to stop her from hurting herself. You sit in silence for a moment before Margot breaks it,  

“I still don’t like her,” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest as she practically pouts in her chair.

You roll your eyes, having seen that coming from a mile away. Ah, classic Margot. Once she made up her mind about someone or something, it was incredibly difficult to get her to change her opinion.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Emma says quietly. Over the past month since your group really came together, Emma had opened up more and more until she was able to hold full conversations without freezing. You had once thought that her dreary attitude was because she was an unhappy person, but it turns out she’s just painfully shy.

James certainly helped with bringing her out of her shell; his caring attitude and cheerfulness are good for her.

You take a deep breath and agree with Emma, surprising yourself when you say the words aloud,

“You know, I don’t think having her as a team leader will be as bad as I thought. I think she’ll help our team more than hurt it, but we should still be careful with what we say and do around her for the next few months, just in case.”

Margot sighs but nods, uncrossing her arms from her chest.

“Yeah, okay, that’s probably for the best. I guess she didn’t seem that bad. She had pretty hair,” she mumbles the last part, and to your utter bewilderment, Margot tucks her hair behind her ear and actually blushes.

You gawk at her; it was incredibly rare for Margot to turn red, and it usually only happened when she was extremely angry or embarrassed. She hadn’t even blushed when she got super drunk at the bar downtown, took off her top, and climbed up on a table to dance around. Well, she tried to dance, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was falling off the table and throwing food and drinks everywhere.

You had tried to get her top back on and get her off the table but were fairly drunk yourself, and you failed terribly. When she went flying off the table, she kneed you right in the face, and you had to walk around with a black eye for two weeks.

Yeah, defiantly not either of our best moments.

But even when you had told her about it the next morning, hungover and miserable, she still hadn’t tinged red even a little bit at the fact that she’d shown her tits to an entire bar full of people. She had just waved her hand indifferently and asked if you got any good pictures.

So, it was defiantly bizarre to see her blush now for seemingly no reason.

Huh.

Margot catches you gaping at her and blushes even more before clearing her throat and turning her attention on you. She smirks mercilessly, eyes gleaming, and says,

“You know, I was surprised you even gave her your real name, I was half expecting you to tell her to call you Peach.”

Now it’s your turn to burn scarlet, and you shrink back into your seat with a flustered, “Margot!”

She laughs at your squeaky reaction before saying, “What? I’m just saying, Colonel Quaritch is always calling you that, and I’ve never heard you tell him to stop, soooo.” She wiggles her eyebrows and jams a sharp elbow into your ribs.

You wince, one hand reaching up to grasp where she hit you as you say, “Uh, yeah, I’m not going to Quaritch of all people what he can and cannot say, and you wouldn’t either. He could call me much worse names, so I’ll take Peach any day, thank you.”

“And I can’t believe you’re still going on about this!” you scoff, annoyance tinging your voice.

“Oh, come on! You guys spend so much time together-”

“Yeah, for lessons. During which he knocks me around for a few hours, so yeah, I can certainly say that we are, at best, acquaintances.”

“But you have such good chemistry-”

“Ha! Margot, you and David have more chemistry than Quaritch and I.”

Margot blanches and leans away from you, disgusted at the thought of such a thing, “I can’t believe you would even say something so horrid!”

“Well, it’s true!”

Margot lunges from her chair, jabbing an accusing finger in your face as you lean back, “Lies! I know for sure that you want to do the hanky-panky with him!”

You shake your head, amusement bubbling up in your gut and making you laugh as you say, “Hanky-panky? Are you fucking eighty years old, what’s the matter with you?”

To both your utter delight and disgust, Margot rolls her hips in a way she must think is provocative, but it mostly looks like something in her body is broken and she’s struggling to stand upright.

You burst out laughing and shout, “Jesus Christ Margot, what the hell are you doing?”

“Come on, I know this what you want to do with Quaritch-”

“What, roll my hips in a way that makes it seem like my spine is shattered to get him to sleep with me?”

Margot falters and stops wiggling around to say, “Is that really what I look like?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, okay, fine!”

She sits back in her chair with a pout but leans forward, and her green eyes bore into yours, “But my point still stands. You know, you’re starting to be like those little ducklings you had talked about seeing him with that first time, always following him around.”

You groan, “Ugh, Margot. You know what, I’m not even going to worry about it anymore. If you want to be lost in your delusions, you do that. I’m going to go to bed because I actually have something important to do in the morning.”

You pat your thighs and stand from your chair as Margot boos and shouts, “You grandma!”

“Goodnight, Margot,” you say, still absolutely tickled at Margot’s ability to bullshit even herself. You pat her on the shoulder as you walk past her to the door, and she smacks you on the ass and says, “Night, bitch.”

You barely remember to say goodnight to Emma and James, whom you had honestly forgotten were still even in the room.

They jumped slightly when you called out to them, having seemingly forgotten you and Margot’s presence as well, even with the way you had been so loud.

You shake your head fondly as they guiltily say goodnight, and you’re out the door.

You spend the journey back to your quarters thinking about the past month you’ve spent with Quaritch.

Your relationship with him, if you can even call it that, has grown from distant to something more of an…understanding. A mutually beneficial, symbiotic agreement. He’s still a massive prick, always poking and jabbing nastily, always quick to make fun.

He's still likely to smother you in your sleep if you do or say something bad enough, but he isn’t as terrifying as he was when you first met, that’s for certain.

You’re not sure if it’s simply the result of spending four hours every damn day for a whole month in his company, or if he chose to be less frightening on purpose. Either way, that all-consuming terror you felt in the first week of meeting him has faded into faint uneasiness.

And it was hard to stay so scared of him all the time when he did almost, dare you think it, nice things.

Like that one time, just a week ago, when he had been teaching you different ways to hold your blade so you could better attack someone instead of just defending yourself.

Quaritch had stood close to you, and even through the stifling, humid heat of Pandora, you could feel the heat coming off him. His bare arm brushed against yours gently as he moved from your right side to stand in front of you, and he lifted the little knife he had given you three weeks ago.

As he had warned you to, you’d kept good care of; you didn’t want to give Quaritch any other reason to dislike you, and losing the knife he entrusted into your care would worsen his feelings toward you for sure.

So, you kept it on you whenever you were in your Avatar form, nice and safe tucked away in your right short pocket. Sometimes, whenever you were distracted, you’d find yourself stroking over the M.Q engraved on the handle, thumb roving over the groves. It was sort of comforting, in a way you couldn’t describe. You probably just liked the texture.

“Alrigh’, Peach. Your defense with this puny little thing has been adequate at best, but it's good ‘nough for now. So, we’ll be moving on toward something a little bit more fun,” he grinned unpleasantly, head tilting to the side, “your offense.”

You swallowed uneasily but nodded.

Can’t be any worse than before, right? You had naively thought.

You were really, really fucking wrong.

Five minutes in, you figured out that Quaritch is a fucking monster at defense. You’d known this to some degree, just because this was Quaritch and he’s good at everything when it comes to combat, but trying to even touch this guy with your knife was utterly impossible.

No matter how fast your feet moved, no matter how much your muscles burned, no matter how hard you tried, Quaritch is bigger and better than you’ll ever be. You could see it in the way he moved, the ease of which he ducked and weaved around your inexperienced blade. He had a smug look on his face and his lips were curled up in amusement as he played around with you like a cat with a mouse.

Someday, you might get jealous of his skill, of his ferocity in combat. Now, though, watching him just made you feel in awe.

Embarrassingly, you can’t help but think he’s stunning when he moves like that. Maybe in the future you’ll actually get to see him against a real opponent, a real warrior who knows what they’re doing. You have no doubt that Quaritch would give them hell.

You leapt at him one more time in a last-ditch attempt to cut him, and he surprised you by not immediately dodging as he had done the past few minutes. Instead, he simply stays still as you run at him.

You tried to slow down once you realized he wasn’t going to move, but it was too late. He stepped slightly toward you and stopped your body’s momentum by splaying a huge hand across your upper chest and pushing you back with barely any effort at all.

You went flying backward, ass landing hard on the ground with a grunt.

Ow!

You groaned as you struggled to stand back up and Quaritch offered no helping hand, not that you had expected him to. Instead, he crossed his bulging arms across his chest, smirked, and said, “Well. You weren’t as pathetic at offense as I thought you’d be.”

You scoffed, eventually able to stand back up and dust off the gravel that clung to the fabric that covered your ass, “I was ridiculous, I didn’t even manage to make contact.”

“Well, that’s just ‘cause you ain’t pissed enough. You gotta think of me as some sorta son of a bitch you despise, someone you hate. Really let it provoke you, feel the hate in your blood and let it guide you until you kill em’. Then you’ll be golden.”

You considered his words thoughtfully, wondering who the hell you could ever hate so much you could brutally kill them.

Quaritch sighed when he saw the questioning look on your face, one large blue hand resting on the thick belt wrapped around his slender waist. He reached up to rub at his jawline as he rolled his eyes at your naivety, and then he said, “Look, Peach, there’s gotta be someone you don’t like-”

“David!” you blurt out, remembering how irritated he’d made you the past week with his stupid little comments and snotty attitude, “I really, really fucking don’t like David. If you think I’m a priss, you’d hate David if you ever met him.”

“…Alright, David it is, then. Come on, get ready to come at me again, and this time don’t be such a pussy about it. Remember what I taught you and think about whatever it is about this poor David bastard you hate so much.” Quaritch spreads his legs into a wider stance, long arms deceptively relaxed at his sides as he waited for you to come at him.

“The guy’s a douchebag, always rambling on about how he’s better than everyone else. He’s a real stuffy, know-it-all science puke. You know, your favorite type of person.”

You flashed him a sharp-toothed grin and he smirked back, wide golden eyes grudgingly amused.

“He once told me that it would be highly unlikely that you would be able to teach me anything. I really wasn’t sure if it was a dig at your teaching skills or my intelligence. Probably both, knowing him.”

Quaritch’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened as he said, “…Interesting. Might have to meet this David guy some time.”

You grinned at the thought of massive, terrifying Quaritch looming over a tiny, frightened David, grinning down at him evilly. That might finally be enough to deflate David’s ego, though it was David. Who knows, he’d probably be delusional enough to think Quaritch was talking to him out of respect or some shit.

I would literally fucking pay to see that happen. Quaritch would eat him alive.

“Alright, I’m ready, let’s go again.”

You spent the next thirty minutes pathetically struggling to hit him, and you didn’t make contact even once. You came close a few times, but you never actually touched the bastard.

And thinking about how utterly irritating David was didn’t even help! As much as you disliked the guy, you really couldn’t develop enough anger to want to kill him, even if it wasn’t real.

Maybe throttle him or duct tape his mouth shut, but to kill? That wasn’t you; you just didn’t have that sort of determination or ferocity in your heart. Maybe one day, but certainly not now.

It seems Quaritch could see that because he sneered at you before sighing and coming to a stop.

“Jesus Christ, alright, this isn’t working. We gotta figure somethin’ out, ‘cause at this rate you’re just going to hurt yourself by flailin’ ‘round like that. Goddamn.”

You stopped when he did, panting, face flushed and sweaty. You winced at his words but admit defeat by nodding your head in agreement.

Quaritch propped both his hands on his hips as he considered you for a moment, eyes flicking over your body. He checked the watch on his left wrist and then said,

“Well, Peach, we only gotta few minutes left and I’m fuckin’ hungry, so let’s call it a day. I’ll see ya nice and early morning tomorrow on time, you hear me?” He gave you a look, and you internally rolled your eyes even as you nodded understandingly.

It was one time you’d been five minutes late to meeting up with him, weeks ago, and he’d never let you forget it. Tom had woken up late, so you’d had to wait to link into your Avatar. You were only a few minutes late, but Quaritch had been a grumpy little bastard about it the entire morning.  

He was fucking relentless, and now every single time at the end of the lesson, he always has to say some little thing about it, because it’s Quaritch. Why ever waste an opportunity to be a dick?

“See you tomorrow, sir.”

Quaritch gave you one last look, golden eyes stern, before turning around to head back toward the gate of the courtyard.

You watched as he went, hands distractedly reaching for the sheath of your knife so you could safely put it away.

You gazed at the thin, green fabric of his tank top that stretched taught over his broad shoulders and muscled back, eyes lowering down to take in his slender waist wrapped in his belt.

And then your eyes went lower, and you made a daring observation that shocked your world, an observation you would have never dared to even think a mere few weeks ago.

Miles Quaritch has a fantastic ass.

You blushed strongly even as your head tilted to the side, eyes locked on his camo-covered ass as he practically struts his way to the gate. Your mouth parted gently before you bit softly on your bottom lip.

I’m mean, really, he’s goddamn packing it away down there. Is there any part of him that isn’t fucking attract- mother fucker!

You yelped as stinging pain ripped through your senses, concentrated strongly on the palm of your right hand. You dropped your knife on instinct, looking down hurriedly to see what the hell was hurting so bad.

You hissed lightly, shocked, when you saw the angry, bright red cut on the upper part of your blue palm, already weeping blood profusely. Your tail flicked irritably behind you, ears lowering on the sides of your head.

No fucking way, you absolute dumbass.

You’d been so distracted with checking out Quaritch’s ass that you had accidentally cut your palm open with your own knife while trying to sheath it.

“Mother fucker!” The words burst out of your mouth before you could stop them, tingling pain finally pushing its way through your surprised brain and throbbing from your palm all the way up your arm.

Blood slowly dripped on the concrete of the courtyard as you grasped your right wrist with your left hand, gasping softly.

I have to get to the medical center, Jesus Christ, why the hell does it hurt so much!?

You’d just started taking steps toward the gate, eyes locked on your bleeding palm when you heard stomping footsteps approaching fast. Before you knew it, camo-covered legs were in your peripheral vision.  

You looked up at Quaritch’s irritated and baffled face, his eyebrows furrowed as he snagged your wrist and yanked your arm up to his face to closer inspect the bleeding wound on your hand.

“Jesus Christ, Peach, the fuck did you do? I left you alone for two seconds!”  

“I-I know, I know! I was just trying to put it back into its sheath and-and I must have not been paying attention and it-” you stuttered, mind franticly trying to come up with an excuse to say instead of why you’d been so distracted.

There was no fucking way you were ever going to tell Quaritch you’d actually injured yourself because you were preoccupied with checking out his ass. Your pride and dignity would never make a recovery.

He interrupted you before you could finish, gripping your wrist tightly as he hissed, “Yeah, I can see that. Fucking hell, I should just start callin’ you clumsy instead of Peach. Let’s go.”

Quaritch lowered your arm from his face, scowling deeply, his own ears flicking angrily.

He began walking with your wrist still in his grasp. He tugged on your arm when you remained rooted to the ground, and you stumbled after him.

“U-Uh, hey, where are we going?”

“To the medical center, you idiot. It doesn’t look too deep but you’re going to need to get it cleaned. Hurry the fuck up, let’s go.”

He marched you out of the courtyard, through the bustling area of soldiers and across Bridgehead, all the while still holding onto you.

Every now and then he’d shorten his long, angry stride to take a look at your hand, and every time he did, the scowl on his face grew. His sharp teeth were clenched angrily as you walked on.

You didn’t say a word, too embarrassed and in pain, even as you struggled to keep up with his aggressive pace. You winced every time a gust of air blew across your open wound and made it sting even more. Every time you winced, Quaritch’s grip tightened.

Eventually you made it to the med center, and Quaritch waltzed through the doors with zero concern or hesitation. He tugged you upfront to stand beside him and finally released his grip on your wrist.

Ten or so tiny little humans wearing exo-masks and white sanitary gear bustled around the near entrance of the center, but none took any notice of the two giant blue Avatars standing in front of them, too busy with their own tasks.

When none of them looked up from their work after two seconds, Quaritch lost his minuscule amount of patience and barked,  

“Hey!”

You jumped slightly, not expecting Quaritch to shout, and every person in the immediate vicinity froze, heads snapping up and around to you and Quaritch. His deep voice almost echoed in the ensuing silence as any other sound stopped.

You wanted to shrink away from their stares, to just go back to your quarters and take care of your wound by yourself. Quaritch must have sensed your uneasiness and desire to bolt, because he firmly placed one large hand on your bare back, fingers splaying out across your sensitive skin.

You jumped again at the unexpected feeling of his skin against yours and tensed, mouth parting to gasp before you choked it down.

Quaritch’s hand was so big that his thumb brushed up under the loose fabric of the training crop top you wore, and goosebumps erupted across your body as you involuntarily shivered at the feeling.

You could feel the pads of his fingers against your skin, and it felt so strange (good).

“If any of you busy fuckers wouldn’t mind takin' a moment to check out this girl here, I would greatly appreciate it.” Quaritch’s deep voice boomed across the silent room, clearly irritated and sarcastic.

He sneered at them all, and then lifted an eyebrow when everyone remained frozen, “Well?”

One brave little human finally managed to unstick their feet from the floor to approach you and Quaritch slowly, as if you were both wild animals that might attack her at any moment.

They come close enough that you can tell it was a woman, even through all the bright white gear she wore. She was short, stout, and stern-looking, with grey hair pulled up into a tight bun.

She tilted her head up to meet Quaritch’s fierce yellow gaze firmly, and you almost raised your eyebrows in surprise when she refused to look away from his angry glare, her back straight and gloved hands folded in front of her.

Jesus Christ, this lady has some serious balls, you had thought incredulously.

“What’s the problem, sir?” she asked, voice coming out polite but stiff.

Quaritch had seemed startled for about half a second, then he narrowed his eyes once more and said, “This idiot sliced her hand open.”

He nudged you strongly with the hand on your back and you took a stumbling step forward, looking down at her small face and sheepishly raising your right bloody hand. It had stopped bleeding so much a few minutes before you had entered the center, but it was still a gross-looking mess.

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry, I did do that,” you said sheepishly, apologetic.

The lady didn’t seem remotely bothered by the blood, though, and she simply sighed before guiding you over to a nearby cot with a white privacy sheet away from the entrance of the center.

You walked over willingly, careful not to jostle your hand. The stinging had faded slightly now that you were inside, but it was far from numb, and you didn’t want to make it hurt even more.

As you walked over to the tent, Quaritch left your side without your notice and wandered somewhere out of your viewpoint without a word.

You turned around to say something to him, and only then did you even notice he was gone.

Oh, you had thought, he could have at least said goodbye.  

The lady introduced herself as Doctor Miriam as she moved around your cot to grab various medical supplies. She asked you some questions, like how and when you injured yourself, and with what.

You sheepishly told her that you had been distracted when you had cut yourself, and your hand drifted down to your pocket to grab your knife to show it to her.

Your heart dropped to your shoes when you were met with nothing, and you tensed in alarm before immediately slouching when you realized you had dropped it in the courtyard.

You’d have to go back for it once this was done, but you’d much prefer that than it being lost like you had thought it was when you hadn’t felt it in your pants. Quaritch would have killed you.

All in all, the process for healing your hand was a simple one; Doctor Miriam cleaned your palm, removed the gravel, smeared a clear gel on it, and wrapped the upper part of your hand with a simple white bandage.

“Luckily,” Doctor Miriam explained, “the cut is shallow enough that it didn’t sever any of the nerves in your hand. It’ll be healed by tonight because of the medicinal properties in that healing gel, but be careful not to squeeze anything too tight. You don’t even have to wear the bandage for more than a few hours.”

You thanked her profusely and apologized again for causing her trouble, and she simply waved her hand, patted you on the back firmly, and guided you back toward the entrance of the center.

You stepped outside back into the light of Pandora, so ready to go back to the Avatar center to take a shower and get back into your own body after such a tiresome ordeal.

You’d barely taken a few steps before Quaritch rounded the corner of the building, stepping into your viewpoint.

You jerked to a stop, wondering what the hell he was still doing here.

He headed toward the entrance of the med center in long strides but stopped when he saw you standing outside. He changed his course of direction to you and reached you in a scant few seconds.

“I thought you were gone?” you asked, bandaged hand raising to shield your eyes from the bright light as you looked up at him.

Quaritch grabbed your wrist once more to examine the handiwork of Doctor Miriam. Apparently satisfied, he dropped your arm a moment later, and you let it go limply back to your side, still waiting for an answer.

“Noticed you left my knife in the courtyard, and I don’t like leaving my shit where others can take it,” he said, and lifted up your knife to your view.

“Sorry, sorry, I was just about to go back for it!” you exclaimed, hand reaching out to grab it from his own.

Quaritch pulled his hand back before you could take it, scoffing loudly before he asked, “What, you think you can just leave my shit laying around and then just take it back?”

He took a step closer to you, face lowering down to yours to look you firmly in the eye. He glowered at you, yellow eyes burning as he said, “Don’t do it again.”

You wanted to scoff at him and say, ‘Well, I was a little distracted by all the blood pouring from my hand!’, but you bit your tongue. It would just result in an argument you would never win.

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

He glared at you one last time before dropping the knife into your hand. You took it gratefully, and as you tucked it into the pocket of your pants, you noticed that he had cleaned it of your blood. 

“And the next time you handle that knife, Peach, do your best not to slice open your own hand. Jesus, you gotta be the clumsiest brainiac I’ve ever met.”

You winced, suddenly feeling a hot flash of embarrassment all over again at the thought of your accident. You shuffled awkwardly and cleared your throat before you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and you said, “Thanks for your help, sir. I really appreciate it.”

Quaritch sneered down at you, ears flicking as he sniffed derisively and said, “You’re damn right you’re thankful,” and then he stormed away as quickly as he had arrived.

You had watched him go, and it wasn’t until later that night as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling that you realized how surprised you had been that Quaritch had even bothered to take you to the center.

For all the cut had hurt like a bitch, it was far more superficial than life-threatening. Quaritch had been able to tell that the moment he had looked it at, but he still stayed with you to take you to the center. And he hadn’t even complained about it once while you were walking, which was a goddamn miracle for Quaritch.

And there was that other time a few days into the first week of lessons when you had neglected to eat much of breakfast, nor much of dinner the night before. While that would have been fine to do in your human form, your Avatar needs a massive amount of nutrients and calories to survive. Since you were working yourself to the bone every morning for the past week, it was a very dumb move to forget to eat two meals in a row.

You had gone out one morning to meet Quaritch and had felt fine through his Na’vi lesson, and it was only during your own combat session that you began to weaken.

You were thirty minutes in, clumsily dodging Quaritch’s hits when black spots began to cover your eyes. You stumbled to a stop, panting and dizzy, and your limbs felt much heavier than before. Your arms lowered from where they had been positioned defensively in front of you as you struggled to stay upright, swaying unsteadily on your feet.

Quaritch paused in his own movement, his fists lowering down in confusion as his eyes flickered over your face before he said, “You good, Peach? You’re lookin’ a lil’ green for such a blue girl-woah!”

Your vision faded, sounds muting out as you felt your body slacken. Just as you began to tilt backward, Quaritch lunged forward and caught your limp form before you could hit the ground.

It took a moment to come back to reality, to claw your way out of the darkness as the harsh buzzing in your ears lessened. You slowly moved your fingers and legs as feeling came back to them, and you realized distantly that your upper body was laying down across something firm and covered in soft fabric.

 A deep voice began to filter into your ears as you kept your eyes closed, still not fully conscious.

“Hey, Peach? Peach, you wuss, you went and passed out on me, wake up.”

You groaned as a hand began to lightly smack your right cheek, slowly blinking open your eyes.

For a moment, the only thing you could see was fuzzy blue, until Quaritch’s upper body and face became clearer. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, lips curled in light amusement, but you felt more than saw his shoulders become less ridged when you met his eyes.

You swallowed, mouth dry, and whispered, “Oh. Did I pass out?”

Quaritch barked out a ridiculing laugh and said, “Yeah, sweetheart, you sure did.”

“Oh,” you said again, still stunned. It wasn’t the first time you’d fainted, but the empty and dizzy feeling never got easier.

You swallowed again and realized just how thirsty you were. Your stomach growled furiously, and all of a sudden you were starving.

Didn’t even think about eating, you realized, beyond disappointed in yourself for not taking proper care of your Avatar. 

You moved your shoulders to start lifting yourself up from the ground, before you realized with disbelief and humiliation that you weren’t laying on the hard ground, but rather your upper body was mostly in Quaritch’s fucking lap.

No wonder I had been able to smell him so well, I’m practically on top the poor guy!

You blinked and lifted your head up, your face coming closer to Quaritch’s own, close enough that you could see the small flecks of brilliant green in his bright yellow eyes. More embarrassment flashed through you even as you subtly inhaled his intoxicating scent, made more overwhelming and mind-numbing by your proximity to him.

You wanted to scream and bury your face in your hands. Not only had you passed out like an absolute pussy for such a stupid reason, but Quaritch had actually had to catch you like you were some prissy damsel in distress. Honestly you were surprised he had even bothered to prevent you from falling, let alone bothered enough to cradle you in his lap until you had awoken.

Probably just pitied the stupid, clumsy girl who couldn’t even take care of herself, you thought bitterly, lips thinning.

You sniffed quietly as you met his eyes, your own golden eyes flicking between his as you said, slightly breathlessly, “Thanks for catching me.”

He looked back down at you blankly, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment and ears flicking back on the sides of his head before he scoffed and said, “Fuck, Peach, I just didn’t want you to bust your head and get blood all over my courtyard is all.”

You saw his muscled biceps suddenly flex with tension and realized you had about two seconds to get yourself off his lap before he tossed you away, curious generosity swiftly revoked.  

You tensed your core to sit upright quickly, and once you no longer felt dizzy, you shifted your hands to support yourself. Your right one went to press a palm down firmly on the ground, and once you began to lift yourself up all the way, your left hand moved to place itself better. That would have been fine if Quaritch hadn’t still been sitting there, waiting for you to move so he could get up.

Your hand landed just on the right side of his crotch, pinky finger brushing gently against something really fucking big by the cold zipper of his pants.

Oh.

Your stomach exploded with butterflies before sinking violently like a stone in dread as you realized exactly who you were practically fondling.  

You gasped loudly, head whipping downward in wide-eyed horror to confirm your terrified thoughts, and, yep, that was your hand full on Colonel Quaritch’s lap, just an inch away from earning you a horrifying phone call from the human resource department. If Quaritch didn’t rip your arms off and strangle you first, that is.

You jerked your hand away as fast you could, face and ears already burning. You franticly started lifting yourself away so you can give him more space, and you turned to look at him so you could furiously apologize and beg for your life.

Quaritch snatched your wrist in a bruising grip before you could fully pull away and tugged you angrily back into his body space. You hit the ground hard on your knees, wincing, kneeling in front of his sitting form. You didn’t even have time to pull away or straighten up before Quaritch is shoving his furious face close to yours, tail flicking furiously behind him.

And you couldn’t help but distantly think, this close to his face and eyes, he really is fucking pretty.

“You,” he hissed, bright yellow eyes enraged and narrowed as they flickered across your own wide ones, “need to watch you put your fucking hands, sweetheart, before you start something you can’t finish.”

“Sorry, sorry!” you squeaked, heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of emotions, “It was a slip of the hand!”

Quaritch growled, baring his sharp teeth slightly before tossing you your wrist back to you. You scrambled up and away from him quickly, taking several steps to widen your distance, chest heaving.

Quaritch rose as well, glaring at you one last time before turning on his heel and walking right out of the courtyard, fists clenched and tail still flicking angrily behind him.

As you squint worriedly after him, wondering if this was the end of your brief partnership, you could see the slight hint of a pretty purple on the back of his neck and the tip of his ears.

It was an accident, you wanted to shout after him, but somehow you don’t think it would help any.

Jesus Christ, I think my heart is about to explode.   

The morning after that whole thing had been unnerving, with Quaritch still grouchy and you still embarrassed. It was a little awkward when you began Quaritch’s Na’vi lesson, but by the time it was your lesson, you were back to inelegantly moving around and Quaritch was back to kicking your ass.

Now, every morning since your fainting spell, Quaritch will ask, “You sure you won’t pass out again, princess?”, or “Sure hope you snagged some grub, Peach”, always smirking callously and teasing you whenever he gets the chance, the dickbag.

You can’t really blame him, though; you really, really didn’t want another crotch-grabbing incident. Knowing your luck, you’d do something even worse, like full-on fondle him or trip and land face-first into his lap.

So now you make sure to take proper care of your Avatar, always eating and drinking enough and listening to the signals your body gave you. It had been massively dumb for you to not do that in the first place, but now you’re going to make sure it is your top priority.

As you finally arrive at your quarters, you conclude that you are far from friends with Quaritch, if that was even a possibility for him. In fact, you don’t think he even had any friends.

Sure, he was the commander of the Recombinant Unit and everything, and those guys fucking worship him, but it didn’t seem like it was the same as actually being friends who care about each other.

You get ready for bed, mind consumed with thoughts of Quaritch, and you can't help the thought that pops into your head as you shuffle around your room.

You know, I don't think I would mind all that much being friends with him.

Peachy Keen. Part Three.

Tagging: I'm sorry, I did my best, for some reason it wouldn't let me tag everyone!

@kristennero @silverhowe @creativityleftthechat @nissilou

@x-maladaptive-daydreams-x @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@rdeville @anxiousraindrop5299 @floufli @rax-raxus

@nanamislut321 @perseny @gremlinfuck @e1d0lonk3k

@iwillnotexplainmyself @mxddymay @coffinbeananteiku @j-ang-0

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@tohellwiththedevill @arsen-the-vamp @babyduk213

#avatar: the way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #atwow #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch imagine #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #avatar fanfiction #my writing #na'vi quaritch x reader #na'vi quaritch #colonel quaritch #peachy keen

[deliciouskeys]

This fic has been entirely inspired by @vanshoundd's Butchlander cowboy AU art. I went feral after I saw it and wrote 3k words as soon as my work week was over. The art didn't need fic, but... um... now you have it.

(thank you for keeping the Butchlander tag alive with your pretty art, Vans)

Frontier Justice. Butchlander.

Billy had just ordered his third glass of whiskey when a blond stranger strolled in through the swinging doors of the bar. The man decided to situate himself on the stool right beside him even though there were plenty of empty seats at the bar at this early evening hour. Billy glanced over as the man took off his bright white leather hat and set it on the stool beside him, wiped the sweat off his brow and took out an actual comb to rearrange his matted hair. He looked so very familiar and Billy was trying to place him. When the barman came over to ask the stranger ‘what’ll it be?’ and he ordered a sarsaparilla, Billy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Bout what?” the man asked nonchalantly, even as popped the metal cap off the glass bottle the barman took out from underneath the bar.

Billy realized it was odd to be irritated by another man’s beverage choice, but this was ridiculous. “Enjoyin’ that?”

“Yeah?” the other man answered in an equally querying tone.

Looking at him carefully, Billy suddenly pieced together why the man looked familiar. “Say, aren’t you that Jack Lander fellow?”

“Indeed,” Jack answered, taking another long sip from the long bottle neck. “You a fan?”

“Just didn’t recognize you without all ‘em rhinestones and garish boots.”

Jack Lander was a notorious figure in the area. He gained his fame by traveling around with the Wild West Show that went around the bigger towns. He was an incredible natural talent, probably the best marksman this side of the Mississippi, and an expert with the lasso, although Billy always thought it was mostly showy tricks than good old-fashioned useful skills. Jack used to wow audiences with all sort of ridiculous feats like standing up on a galloping horse and managing to shoot glass bottle targets on the run. Billy attended twice before the show shut down, the first time dragged against his will by Hughie, a young ranchhand who was eager to see the show. The next year when the show came around, Billy went into town on his own, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing Jack Lander’s gaudy button shirt with rhinestone highlights across the chest and shoulders, catching the afternoon light seductively. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how pretty Jack’s ass was in those newfangled denim dungarees you couldn’t get at most supply stores, stretched drum-tight around his hips and legs, a pretty blue color. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t rub one out in his tent that night, remembering the way Jack looked doing all his fancy trick roping.

Jack hmphed into his bottle of root beer. “What was wrong with my boots?”

“Other than the fact they were scarlet red and the spurs were painted to look like gold? Nothing at all.” Billy chuckled.

“Those were for the ladies in the audience,” Jack said flatly.

Jack Lander was certainly a ladykiller, but the reality was there were still not many as many ladies out here as fellows, and Billy couldn’t believe this man didn’t enjoy at least some attention from men on the side. “Didn’t realize it was exclusively for the ladies,” he said, winking, taking the last sip of his whiskey, gauging Jack’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Far from rebuffing the flirtation, Jack finally turned and looked at him, and smiled amiably. He made to clink bottle to glass before noticing Billy had finished his whiskey, and motioned the bartender over to ask for a refill for his ‘friend.’

“I’ll be paying for it,” Billy reassured the bartender who looked at the two of them skeptically. “It’ll be my fourth and the sun ain’t even set yet...” Billy warned Jack as he raised the refilled glass.

“Should have ordered sarsaparilla,” Jack said in sing-song, winking, clinking bottle to glass.

“Why are ya drinkin that vile kid stuff?”

“Because I’m thirsty?” Jack paused before adding. “And I like my hand steady and my wits about me.”

“Wits, huh. Well you might enjoy the conversation with me a bit more if ya didn’t have so many wits about you.”

Jack laughed, flashing his miraculously perfect white teeth, none of them crooked, broken, or worn down.

Billy glanced down to see he had not one but two holsters at each hip. What the hell did he need four revolvers and such a steady hand for? All Billy knew about Jack after the Wild West Show shut down a few years ago was that he started making his living bounty hunting. Sometimes it was runaway criminals, awful men. A lot of the time it was Apaches and Comanches that he’d shoot on sight, which was against the law, strictly speaking, not that there was anyone around here who would ever enforce it. It was a risky and cruel profession compared to driving herds across the plains like Billy was usually hired to do. It was a wonder that not only was Jack still alive, but that he looked not at all worse for the wear, even though his days of sleeping in a comfortable wagon trailer and getting glammed up for shows were over. His outfit was more practical, certainly-- baggier, brown trousers and coat with grime on the lower hems, a wide brim hat with no embellishments, unless one counted the visible salt fronts from head sweat. But he still had a small red bandana tied around his collar, and the shirt peeking out from underneath his coat was still a crisp white cotton number from what Billy could see of it. Billy was surprised at how tempting it was to peel Jack out of his layers and see if he was still a dandy at heart, and if his shirt was tailored to be form-fitting.

They both finished off their drinks, eyeing each other. They got up and Billy paid both of their tabs.

As soon as they walked out of the bar, Jack pulled Billy into the narrow shady alley between the bar and the next building—an inn of ill-repute of some sort.

“Can you really afford to be paying for other people’s drinks, William?” Jack asked in a hushed tone. Billy’s body was responding swiftly to being in close quarters with this man, but he soon felt the end of a revolver pressed into his chest. “From what I’ve heard of you, all you’ve done is rustled some cattle for someone else every now and then. Truth be told, I don’t even know why there’s a large bounty on your head when you haven’t held up a train or robbed a bank or been in any sort of bandit gang.”

Billy smiled wryly. He had his long rifle slung over his shoulder, but there was no way he could defend himself with it now. “Should’ve figured they’d put a bounty on me. Reckon it might’ve been the sheriff I shot over in Bitter Creek.”

“Ah, that’d do it,” Jack grinned, and his perfect white teeth looked more menacing in the shade of the alley. “Why the hell would you do that, William Butcher.”

“You can call me Billy if you’re going to end me. The sheriff was a piece of work, I got on the wrong side of him and it was going to be him or me. I didn’t run afoul of anything, he just took it into his mind that he didn’t like me. He hanged eight innocent people in the span of a few months working at that godforsaken little outpost. Mad with power. But I guess someone like you wouldn’t be judging a man for that.”

Jack smiled, more friendly this time without the rowful of teeth. There wasn’t really anything to lose. Billy leaned forward, despite the barrel of the Colt digging into his flesh, flicked the hat off Jack’s head and full-on kissed his would-be judge and executioner.

Jack inhaled in surprise, but returned the kiss full force, the faint taste of whiskey and the soft drink still on their lips intermingling. Jack eased the gun away, fumbling to put it back in the holster, breathing a quiet muffled moan into the kiss.

“Fuck-“ he said as he tore away. “Jesus Christ.”

“I would like the honor of fucking you. Just once. Before you bring my head in or whatever it is you do for proof of your kills.”

Jack was staring at him, pupils blown wide, still breathing hard.

“Take off your fucking coat. Let me look at ya,” Billy said, surprising himself with how imperious he sounded when he was in pretty dire straits.

Jack obeyed him wordlessly. Took off his coat, but didn’t give Billy much of a chance to admire him-- launched himself right back into the kiss, as if he were parched and Billy’s mouth was water. Jack’s figure hadn’t changed much since the show years, nice tapered waist that Billy instinctively grasped. Jack was a couple of inches shorter than him, and light enough that Billy simply lifted him off his feet, planting him on one of the water barrels stored in the alley. Jack didn’t protest, only pulled Billy in closer, pulling his hat out of the way before kissing him again.

They came apart again. Billy was out of breath too. “I’ll be honest, if you tease me like that I’m liable to just fuck you in the alley. Rather do it somewhere else. Unless you’re in a real rush to get to your next target.”

“Can’t say I am,” Jack said, still catching his breath.

“I don’t have a room at the inn. I sleep in a tent outside of town until there’s another cattle run.”

“Fine by me.” Jack shrugged. “I’ll fuck you under the stars. Inn here’s nothing to write home about-- got lice the one time I stayed the night coming through here before.”

Billy smiled wistfully. They rode out of town, the sun already low near the horizon, and the air quickly shifting from stifling to pleasantly cool to chilly. Jack was following behind him, having taken Billy’s rifle too. Billy thought about how maybe this was all a strange ploy to just kill him outside of the town line. Jack could shoot him from behind, and knowing his aim, he wouldn’t have any trouble dispatching him with one shot to the head, before Billy knew what hit him. But when Billy dared look behind him, Jack would smile, looking eager for what they had planned. No fear that Billy could lead him into an ambush of some sort. Pure unadulterated confidence. Billy found his tent site, and took a few minutes to build a small fire in the stone ring he’d made before. Maybe he was just stalling, knowing that once they did the deed, he was probably not long for this world. He saw Jack’s black boots come into his view once the fire was going strong.

“You wanna get on with it?” Jack said, and there was a note of whininess in his tone.

“Put the guns away, at least,” Billy muttered. “So I can peel you out of that outfit.”

His tent really wasn’t made for fucking—too narrow and low for anything but sleeping. The air wasn’t too cold yet. Billy lay out as many thick blankets as he could on the ground and Jack seemed to have no reservations, starting to strip himself down.

“You a seasoned rider?” Billy asked tugged off his brown pants.

Jack pulled a face. “Ridden my share. Tame, wild, you name it. Just so long as I like the look of it, I’ll ride it.”

This was a fantasy come true. That irritating pretty rodeo cowboy he was so taken with years ago was lying underneath him, ripe for the taking, admitting to wanting it. Billy opened his shirt carefully, not wanting to ruin the fancy tailoring or ivory buttons. The shirt wasn’t pristine white—there were pitstains and a bit of yellowness around the back of the collar. Jack wasn’t as perfect up close as he was in the rodeo ring. He smelled like horses, hay, and gunpowder.

“Reckon I’ll spare you if you’re real sweet to me,” Jack said, a smug smile on his face.

“And what if I’m rough?” Billy asked. He was almost reluctant to do it but reached into his boot and pulled out a sizeable knife that he pressed against Jack’s throat. Jack’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look too unnerved. This sick son-of-a-bitch looked like he was getting a thrill out of it.

“What if I’m rough with ya and take what I want then just slit your throat and leave you here in the desert for the crows?”

Jack was still smiling. “You won’t want to.”

“Why? Cause you’re such a good fuck?”

“Cause I like your style and you don’t seem like the kind.” Jack leaned forward, so that Billy instinctively moved the knife away from his throat before remembering himself.

Billy shoved him down into the blankets, holding him there because Jack kept trying to get up and resume kissing, or maybe intent on getting away and getting to the guns he’d discarded a few yards away. “Soft enough for you? Warm enough?”

Jack nodded. As Billy pulled Jack’s pants off his legs, his cock sprang out of its confines, raring to go. You’d never know they were negotiating who was going to murder whom. Jack Lander was a pretty little thing alright. A deadly, dangerous, unscrupulous little thing with a terrible profession, but Billy didn’t mind.

Billy didn’t want to have the knife in his hand. He wanted to take his time and enjoy this. As long as he kept this self-satisfied little strumpet of a man underneath him, he could probably hold him down with his weight. He threw the knife out of reach and picked up Jack’s legs over his own shoulders. He spat a gob of spit into his palm, quickly preparing himself, testing the body in front of him out with two probing fingers.

Jack squirmed but looked receptive, but when Billy pushed himself inside, there was a grunt of discomfort.

“Don’t have oil on me,” Billy muttered, kneading his hand against the soft flesh of Jack’s ass.

“Didn’t think you would,” Jack shot back, laughing.

Billy spat more into his hand, pulling out just enough to add a bit more to the mix.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Jack said, sneering, moving his knees so Billy’s neck was squeezed tight between his calves. What Billy thought was a vulnerable position for Jack now let him choke Billy with relative ease. Billy shoved his legs down but Jack just wrapped his legs around Billy’s waist, digging his heels into him out of habit, as if even without spurs the motion could cause things to move along faster.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll fuck ya,” Billy gritted out through his teeth and set up a fast pace. He still couldn’t believe his fortune, both good and bad. He never thought anyone would bother looking for him—he hadn’t even shot that sheriff fatally, but he left town to be on the safe side and heard through hearsay that the bastard died of blood infection anyway. But if there was ever a good way to get hunted down this was probably it. If Jack Lander still managed to kill him, at least he got to fuck him first.

It was growing dark and the campfire cast flickering light along Jack’s pale skin, and their shadows against the tent looked elongated and distorted. Their two horses watched them from the post they’re tied to. Jack turned out to be quite a screamer, shouting and cursing into the empty desert when he came, hands going from tight fists to falling completely limp by his side. Billy pushed in quickly, relentlessly, satisfied that he made the other man mewl first. It wasn’t long before he came too. He slumped down on Jack, as much out of physical tiredness as growing mentally weary when he thought about how he’d probably have to kill Jack. At the very least, he’d have to take all the guns and both horses if he didn’t want Jack to follow him to the next town.

“You plottin’ what to do about me?” Jack asked, as if reading his mind. “I’m not gonna kill ya. I’m not gonna turn you in. I don’t need the money. I do this for my own pleasure.”

Billy relented and shifted his body weight off of him, courteously offering Jack the side closer to the campfire, but saying nothing.

Jack moved closer, pressing his body into Billy’s and looking sleepy. Neither was probably planning on it, but they fell asleep in the open air, only waking up when the fire died down and the air had gotten nippy. They shuffled into the tent, Jack falling asleep before Billy, squeezed close, arms in a loose embrace around him.

The next morning Jack was sitting there, watching Billy build another campfire. He looked half-asleep, shivering, wrapped in one of the blankets, with only his head showing and his hair mussed.

“I don’t have any more wood. We’re gonna have to resort to prairie coal this morning.”

“You think I’m so soft? That I never slept outdoors or made do with what’s out here?”

“You don’t look like you have.”

“Well you’re mistaken.” Jack looked away towards the horses before turning back. “I was meaning to ask you... if you were interested in my line of work at all?”

Billy only laughed in response.

“It’s not the most glamorous of jobs, I’ll give you that, but it’s better than doing cattle drives for other people. You might be good at catchin’ these villains.”

“Catching? Thought the point was to kill them. Dead or alive usually just means dead.”

Jack sighed.

“Why’re you so eager to get more competitors in your territory in any case?” Billy asked, finally stepping back from the fire to admire his handiwork, before putting a pot of morning coffee on.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a partnership. I do well enough on my own, but everyone needs a backup now and then. And it gets lonely out on the trail.”

Billy laughed. “Nah, you and I? We ain’t got anything in common. I never wanted to kill people as a profession.”

“Well, I know we’ve got an interest in the same type of night entertainment at least,” Jack muttered under his breath.

Billy stopped himself short when he caught himself imagining that kind of life. It was insane to even consider it.

“You don’t think Lander & Butcher has a certain ring to it?” Jack asked, smiling, unwrapping himself from the blanket and moving closer to the fire, stretching out his hands towards the flames. “We could bring some real frontier justice to these parts.”

#butchlander #the... cowboy au #homelander #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part VIII

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: DEATH, BLOOD, mentions of drug use. Graphic depiction of death. Word Count: 2.3K Summary: Darkness falls... A/N: Two chapters left.

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV] | [Part V] | [Part VI] | [Part VII] | [Part IX] | [☁Masterpost ☁] | [♫The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When he ran his fingers over the guitar strings, you could see the longing in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw. You knew very little about instruments. You saw it collecting dust in the corner of a thrift shop, lonely and in desperate need of repair, and you took it. You didn't even know if he'd be able to use it. If he could take it to the other side with him when he inevitably left.

None of that mattered to you. You just knew he'd need it. When it came back to you, repaired and good as new, you rushed home to give it to him.

"I know you said you played bass," you rushed to say as he grasped the guitar neck in shaking hands, "But I also remember you saying that you used to play guitar too. At least for a little while. And...yeah..."

"Why?" He asked, softly, cradling the guitar like it was a newborn in his hands.

"I don't know," you admitted, "I just figured I'd--you needed something good. Just for once."

He swallowed hard, and let out a short laugh before running his fingers through his curls and turning away.

"It's so...wow. I mean...Shit."

You fidgeted with your fingers as he took a moment to collect his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. And as he turned to you again, golden hour washed over you both, casting you in a warm glow that made him seem more alive than you'd ever seen him.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat then laughed, "I need to re-learn how to play this thing. It's been a while."

You watched the mirth dance across his face and leaned against the windowsill in satisfaction, "Mhm. Because you owe me a song for my troubles. Maybe even two."

In the blink of an eye, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, cradling your face in his warm hands. His thumbs swept across the apples of your cheeks before his hands slipped down to the back of your neck, down your shoulders, your chest, and finally slipping around your waist to pull you in closer. You didn't remember draping your arms around his shoulders, or curling your fingers in his dark curls. Like muscle memory. Like in another life you'd done it a million times.

He pulled away only to pepper your face with more kisses, something you felt like he'd wanted to do for so long by how his hands grabbed your hips.

"I'll write you a library of music." He breathlessly said, kissing you again, "Whatever you want."

─ ·𖥸· ─

You stared at the stained wood floor, numb to the reality of what you've just discovered. It felt like the old, brown stain was growing in width, crawling towards you like you called to it. The ringing in your ears, and the sharp, shallow breaths you took nearly drowned out the sound of the intercom when it rang.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked him, finally forcing yourself to look directly into his face and not at what remained of his body spilled onto the floor. He looked...sick. Pale. Very much dead. And it startled you. How many times had you both walked over this spot. Could he feel it underneath the layers of varnish and paint? If he could, he hid it well. But judging by the way he worked his jaw and avoided eye contact with you, you didn't think he knew any better than you about what the landlord may have done.

You asked again, "Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?"

His eyes flickered over to you, dull and lifeless, before refocusing on the stain, "Yeah."

The intercom rang again and you hesitated before pressing the buzzer to let the visitor in. You could almost hear your heart thrumming in your ears as the footsteps creaked on the staircase and echoed down the hall.

You tried to practice what you'd say when they finally arrived, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth it to rehearse. After all, you'd probably sound like a crazy person.

It was worth a try.

A heavy knuckle rapped against the door, pulling you from your thoughts as suddenly as you slipped into them. You shot another glance at him, and then dragged yourself to the door. And as your hand hesitated over the doorknob, Aaron cleared his throat behind you.

"Do it. I need to know."

You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the door open. Danny--Aaron's childhood friend, former bandmate, and one of the last people to see him alive--looked you over with a furrowed brow of concern.

"Shit, love, you look like death."

You felt like death.

You forced a faint smile that instantly fell and you shook your head in an effort to get your thoughts together. What little thoughts you had, anyway.

"I...this isn't going to be easy. I couldn't really tell you over the phone. So thank you for coming."

You took a step back to allow him into your space. He seemed to pause before crossing the threshold. You could imagine it was a surreal experience to be in a place you made so many memories in, so long ago.

"It feels the same. Though you're loads neater than we all were." He chuckled softly to himself, lost in his memories for a moment, "Do you still have that one burner on the stove that you need to kinda rev up to get going?"

You smiled at that. Mildly annoyed that the landlord never bothered to change the kitchen in 20 years but also mildly charmed by the idea that you and your visitor had another thing in common with one another.

"Yeah, I hate it. I try to avoid using it as often as possible."

"We did too," he added wistfully. You could see his eyes starting to water, and he turned away to collect himself. "Is this gonna be a tough chat?"

You wanted to say no. Maybe spare the inevitable pain his close friend would feel in having to relive the night--and the follow up--all over again. But then you glanced over at Aaron standing at the window, still and closed off like an old Gothic statue of a biblical martyr. This wasn't about you. This wasn't even about Danny. You straightened your back and forced the words out.

"I found his blood. On...on the floor. A-and the windowsill." You shakily admitted aloud for the first time. You saw him visibly stiffen at the admission, and his eyes widened.

"Who's blood?"

"Aaron's. I found it."

"He's playing dumb," Aaron suddenly said, beside you, "he knows what happened. Ask him."

You weren't sure if he saw your eyes flicker to the space beside you registering everything the unseen entity was saying.

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously, "How do you know it's his?"

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and asked pointedly, "How did he die, Danny? What happened that night?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because he's here." You plainly stated, motioning beside you at the shape he couldn't see.

He gave you a strange look, and sneered at you, "You're sick. You're fucking sick, and this is a terrible thing to do."

Aaron rolled his eyes, "He's so full of shit."

"Fine ask me something only Aaron would know. Since I'm supposedly a liar, it'd be easy to prove wouldn't it?" You calmly asked.

"I'm not entertaining this." He grumbled, turning to leave.

"Tell him that you know he stupidly bought drugs off some guy in an alley in California and accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show. I was the only one that sat in the waiting room for him."

"He did WHAT?" You blurted out.

"What?" He turned again, looking at you like you had three heads. You briefly glanced at Aaron again, who motioned for you to share what he said.

"Um..." you swallowed, slightly disturbed by the new information you were given, "He says you accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show? And that none of your friends waited in the hospital for you but him?"

His eye twitched and you felt like he might yell at you, instead he took a deep breath, "Who told you about that? It was fuckin' Natalia wasn't it?"

For fucks sake.

"I've never even met Talia, but I know she was there that night wasn't she? Come on, help me out here."

He stared at you for an uncomfortably long time.

"Who are you?"

You chose to ignore that question, "I know there was an argument that night, Gavin hit him over the head, and he was dead after that. What. Happened. That. Night?"

Danny sighed and took a step towards you, "You know, I hadn't thought about Gavin in ages. Not until he died, anyway. Overdose. Not surprising, but still sad all the same. We separated on pretty bad terms. He got too big, decided he didn't need us. I make the effort to talk to his kids at least once a week, even though he was a piece of shit in the end. Talia took it hard. But even then, I rarely thought about Gavin."

"From what I heard, he was hard to be around sometimes," you said. Aaron snorted, leaning up against the wall.

Danny quirked a brow at you, "From what you heard?"

"He's in denial," Aaron sighed. "Can't say I blame him. I didn't believe in that crazy ghost shit either. But, y'know, here we are."

Danny glanced in Aaron's direction like he heard him, but you were sure he couldn't have. The younger man pushed himself off the wall and walked up to Danny, circling him in examination. You saw his shoulders visibly tense.

"I told you, Aaron is literally here." You carefully reiterated, motioning to where he was standing.

"What else has he told you?" Danny asked.

"That he was in love with Talia, that Gavin was jealous. Considering how things turned out, I guess he wasn't too far off with that assumption." You tried to hide the hint of shameful jealousy in your voice. "I assumed that's why Gavin killed him."

He said nothing. Aaron sidled up beside you, looking him over suspiciously.

"He's acting weird." He murmured.

"You think Gavin killed him over a girl?" Danny plainly asked.

"I think things like that are sadly very common. Jealousy, drugs, money, love. People will kill for a number of things." You subconsciously found yourself taking a small step back.

The red-headed older man sighed deeply, "I loved Aaron, man. I know I said I didn't think that much about Gavin before he finally fucked off to Hell or wherever he ended up. But I think about Aaron every day. He was the one that taught me how to write sheet music, y'know? I'm still not very good. I try though." He scratched the back of his head. You were having a hard time following the conversation, "We knew we were fucked. The minute it happened--when he stopped moving--we knew...what the fuck were we gonna do? It was so stupid. Just an accident."

"Accidents happen." You carefully whispered, taking another small step back. His eyes caught the movement.

"Accidents do happen. All the time. But our apartment was filled with drugs, we were about to get our biggest break yet, we had so much to lose. I--we loved the guy. We did. But we could always get another bassist."

Your heart sank, "Why would you do that to him? Your own friend?"

"Don't act so self-righteous. Have you ever had anything to lose? Have you ever been desperate?" Danny took a step towards you, "Have you ever been hungry? You do what you need to."

Alarm signals went off in your head, and Aaron appeared behind him, "You need to leave. Now."

It didn't make sense to you, "If it was an accident, why hide it? Why not just admit what happened?"

Your words died in your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you. Your blood ran ice cold, paralyzing you in fear you'd never felt before. You locked eyes with Aaron over his shoulder as he leaned over you.

"Then again," you whispered, "I could be wrong. It could just be a mistake--"

It felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. You wondered why he would do that to you when he was so much larger than you? When you'd been so nice to him? When you both loved Aaron as much as you did?

Then the pain doubled. You clutched your stomach just as he pulled the blade out, and your hands were covered in blood. You didn't register Aaron screaming for you and pushing Danny into a table across the room, or the sound of breaking wood and glass.

Your knees buckled under you, your vision darkened. You tried to drag yourself across the floor. To what? You weren't sure. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted someone to find you and make everything better.

You thought of your grandmother, your friends, and your parents. And as the blurry visage of Aaron appeared in front of you, you started to cry.

"Please, please, please. I don't want to die," you tried to say as your vision blurred.

If he was saying anything you couldn't understand it. You felt yourself struggling to breathe, you tasted blood on your tongue.

This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how you fucking died. You were angry. So angry that you could scream and punch the floor.

And then...

He grabbed you in his arms, and you were falling. Through the floor. Through the veil that separated you from the rest of the world.

Into darkness that enveloped you both.

#aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x black reader #fic: white light #atj x black reader #jae writes

[bullet-prooflove]

Morning After Starters

“  you know, if you moved in we wouldn’t keep having to say goodbye like this.  ”

Brian Otis Zvonecek x fem reader

"Okay seriously, I love the two of you, but we should probably be packing right now instead of... well whatever it is we're doing." You reasoned from underneath the silk scarf that Brian had tied over eyes on the drive through the city.

When Brian had woken you up with a cup of Starbucks and a kiss on the forehead, you'd been all for pulling him back into bed for a little early morning fun, but he'd had had other ideas. He'd roused you just enough to get you out of bed with the lure of chocolate pastries before informing you he had a surprise for you today. You weren’t sure how Gabby factored into it. She had met you in the lobby of your building and had driven the rest of the way.

"We have six hours until we have to leave for the cabin. That is more than enough time pack." Brian told you, his hands squeezed your shoulders lightly, as he guided you from what you assumed was an elevator.

"Is she always like this?" Gabby teased from in front of you as you took slow easy steps. "You're sure you wanna marry into this?"

"Hey, you're the ones that pulled me out of bed at eight-thirty in the morning. I got off shift three hours ago." You griped.

"She's always grumpy when she's tired." Brian said, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You relaxed as his thumbs dug into tense muscles at the nape of your neck and began to massage just the right spot. It marvelled you how he knew exactly where you needed him.

"Hmm, I like it when you do that." You muttered as you heard the scrape of a key in a lock, before a door was pushed open.

You felt Brian's fingers loosening the knot at the back of the scarf before it fell away from your eyes leaving you blinking in the bright light that streamed in through the open window in front of you.

"Tada!" Gabby sing-songed as you rubbed your hands over your eyes and took in your surroundings.

The room you were standing in was entirely empty, except for cream painted walls and beech coloured hardwood floors. In fact, you realised as your gaze shifted towards the spacious kitchen area, the whole apartment was empty.

"Wow..." the word slipped out of your mouth as you took a step further into the room surveying everything around you before you went on your own tour of the apartment.

The apartment rivalled both of yours in terms of size and structure. The living room gave away to an open plan breakfast bar and kitchen. The bathroom was a decent size, and the bedrooms...

There were two of them. The master bedroom was vast and spacious.

"So what do you think?" Brian asked you, stepping into the centre of the room.

You remembered his words from the other night. His lips pressed against yours as he whispered “you know, if we moved in together we wouldn’t keep having to say goodbye like this.”

"Is it wrong that I am thinking this would make a good nursery?" you said quietly raising your eyes through lowered lashes until they met Brian's.

Brian wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned you until you were facing the window with the light that danced upon the laminate.

"Crib in the corner, right?" he said, pointing to the space alongside the window.

You nodded, swallowing hard. Your future was coming together. You could imagine the two of you living here, raising a child together, maybe two.

"After a year or two, I don't see why not." you responded eagerly.

Brian drew back, his expression boyish making all the years drop away from his handsome features. He was excited by this venture; he was happy to be taking this step forward with you. He'd never lived with a woman before but when he was with you the thought of waking up without you by his side seemed alien to him.

"We are doing this aren't we?" he asked you.

His arms were crossed over his chest, as he dipped his head trying to figure out your thoughtful expression before a smile blossomed across your features.

"We are definitely doing this."

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#brian otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek x reader #brian zvonecek #otis x reader #otis chicago fire #chicago fire

[sugar-vi421]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 | 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

Bus Ticket.

tw: strong language.

  THE FIRST DAY IN ROSEVILLE

I Close my car door with my keys in hand, you could hear the jingling sound from them as I walk up to the front of the house. The House had looked a bit different than I remembered...there was fresh new paint on the front door and there was no chipping in the wood. I step up on the stairs to porch and to my surprise I didn't hear one creak. Mom must have gotten this place fixed up after Grandma Millie passed, who knows...maybe she wanted to sell it.

I take a breath in, smelling in the scent of cut grass making me want to sneeze a little.

It's kind of weird being back here, now that I've gotten older, I notice the house is a bit creepy, especially since the backyard is a big open space that leads right to the woods.

Grandma Millie told me to never go into those woods and that it was dangerous...

But I was a kid, and I didn't believe her-

"Hey excuse me ma'am!"

I turn around and see a moving service truck parked with the back open and 2 workers in their uniform, I ordered a service due to the fact I had a bunch of boxes, and I didn't feel like going back and forth on a 1-hour drive for a couple of boxes.

It was already 7 pm, and yes I decided to go later in the day because I forgot to pack all my stuff.

"All of your things have already been placed in the house, I just need you to sign here confirming we were here." He said in an annoyed tone basically shoving the clipboard and pen into my hands, I sign on the line, I gave him back the pen and he just walked away.

Rude much.

I went inside and like he said, everything was there. I look around and it looks exactly how I remembered it; I take a step back and I accidentally bump into something-

"Ouch"

-or someone...?

"I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention"- The man just let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of his head,

He was a hot mess.

"Oh no its okay, I was just looking around the house. It looks the same, but the vibe is oddly different?" I smell the fresh paint on the walls, I look around the room one more time and in the corner of my eye I see an outline for a tiny door opening under the stairs.

Strange, that was never there before.

"Yeah, especially with that new guy in town...people think its not safe anymore and I agree. It's a bit weird that you decided to return to Roseville now with everything going on." He said while his smile faded as soon as he mentioned that it wasn't safe.

New guy? Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

"Wait what are you talking about?" If I knew about this, I would've said no and stood up my own parents that evening. I don't care if its mean or whatever you probably said behind that little screen of yours.

He laughed and I just stood there feeling left out which I was, when he noticed I wasn't laughing he slowly stopped smiling.

"You really don't know? I shake my head no and he gripped part of his sleeve, he went to say something but stopped. Almost as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

Been there, but he really needs to start explaining who this guy is.

                              - ??? POV

                              9:54 pm

I rummage through my purse looking for my bus ticket I had just bought earlier,

God, I need a car...

Wow Sabrina, only if you had listened to your sister and took her offer on getting a ride.

But no, of course not.

The bus pulls up and I still can't find my ticket, I stop digging through my bag and look around quickly, I see my ticket on the floor, I run to grab it and as soon as I did, I turned around to see the same bus I needed to get home on leave.

Just my fucking luck.

Groaning I start walking, its about to be 10pm already and I just walked out from this horrible first date, it wasn't even the place that was bad, He didn't even offer to pay...He just said bye and walked out to his fancy car. Hopefully I can walk fast and get home...with a nice warm relaxing bath waiting for me.

The streets were empty, no one is usually out at this time. All I can hear are my heels clicking as my foot hits the ground and the things in my purse moving around when I walk.

Then I hear a pair of footsteps walking behind me, I don't look back however because they are a bit far away and what if they missed their bus like I did?

The footsteps started to get louder meaning they were getting closer.

I turned around to look behind me and I see a man with a hoodie on, I couldn't see his face because he was looking down, but I did see something sticking out of his pocket, it was metal because I can see the light from the streetlamp reflecting off from it but when I saw the back handle connected too it my heart dropped immediately.

This was not happening to me.

Please no.

I quickly turn back around and picked up the pace which I was walking.

But so did the man.

I saw a few lights and see a building up ahead, but I needed to make a turn.

He was getting closer, and my heart was racing faster.

I started to run, I ran and went right, and I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, the building was about 2 blocks away and all the houses I've just past either had for sale signs up or the lights were off.

I slowed down and looked behind me to see the man was gone, I stopped to listen, and he was gone. I sighed out of relief.

I turned back around.

And there he was standing with the same knife I saw earlier, but this time he had on a hooded robe with a rubber white mask with black eyes, nose and mouth all black, the robe was black as well so all you could really see was his mask and the knife he was holding.

I started to slowly walk back, and he walked towards me,

Then I ran.

At this point I'm crying and running for my life in heels, I ran back to where the bus was and decided to go around so I can go to the nearest open building and ask for help.

However this is when my heel decided it didn't want to continue anymore, I tripped as one of the heels on my shoes snapped in half, I got up quickly as I saw the man getting closer as he was walking towards me, I take off the shoes and started to just run but he swinged his knife at me as I got up and slashed me in the arm. As a reflex I hit him with my bag in my other hand making him drop his knife.

He went to look for his knife as it landed somewhere in a bush, and I just took off.

Thank God.

I saw a police station up ahead; from any other view you'd see me just running with my hand on my arm bleeding with no shoes on and messed up hair. I looked crazy.

I got to the doors and opened it just shouting for help, the officers at the front saw me and immediately rushed to my side asking me what happened, and they saw the long cut on my arm and sat me down.

They patched my arm up and gave me some painkillers with a small cup of water. I had no idea of how I was going to get home or when for that matter since they wanted to ask me a few questions about what happened to me.

But I was just glad I was safe now.

"There have been multiple reports of missing persons over just this past month, and sadly the ones who were left have been found dead with numerous amounts of wounds, specifically stab wounds.

Earlier today there was a paper written by Jed Olsen, some of you may have read this paper already today but according to the article this new killer has been revealed with the video surveillance at what seems to be a victim's home, the camera was set by the killer and left there for the police to gather as evidence. The Surveillance shows the victim being stabbed while trying to escape the grasp of our newly town stalker. We have no more information for the killer now being named by the media as..."

...

"The Ghostface."

"Please remember to get home safely, lock all your doors and to be home at 9pm as the police have set a town curfew. We don't want any adults and children getting hurt. Be safe everyone."

I listened in on the news that was playing from the small tv in the corner, everyone's attention was on it and oh my god.

That's him-

I started to shout, and everyone looked at me.

That's the guy who just chased me and tried to kill me...

                                  - Luci's POV

"Wow I had no idea this town had changed from being the perfect place to raise a family into a place where no one is truly safe anymore..." I looked down and my hands just to realize how happy I was to return and now...not so much.

It's really shocking, a serial killer of all things?? Did I jinx myself-

I swear I need to stop doing that.

Even better that I work for the FBI investigating these types of people. How Fitting.

"Yeah, it's a shame really. I must go now but be careful out there! It was nice seeing a fresh face for once." The guy laughed as he walked out, halfway to the truck he looked back and waved and I waved back.

Speaking of serial killers and all of that...I wonder what I'll be working on when I start.

Should be totally unrelated to that stalker guy.

I hate saying stalker guy, he needs a name.

                      A FEW HOURS LATER

                                    10:32pm

I just finished a warm shower after getting all my boxes and bags unpacked and I settled in what used to be my old parent's room for when they used to stay over. I couldn't bring myself to take my old grandmother's room.

I sit at my desk and grab my laptop from my bag, I search up this infamous stalker only to see 12 people found dead either in their homes or in their own office within 2 months.

Wow this guy must have been doing this for a long time before Roseville. Not one clue to who he is except for those cheap videos he sends to the police.

I take out my phone and download an app linked to Roseville news reports so whenever he decides to strike again, I'll know, or for any reason I'll just get the notification. I scroll on random apps on my phone for a few minutes until I start yawning.

I look at the time and it's getting late I should get some sleep.

I put down my phone on the side table next to the bed and put it on the charger, I unfold the blanket I packed with me and set the bed, lifting up one side of the blanket I get under, turning to the side table turning of the lamp and getting in a comfortable position heading to sleep.

1:34 am

Ding!

"23-year-old, Sabrina Madden was found dead in her bedroom by her boyfriend, after reportedly being followed and attacked by a man with a white mask earlier that night. Swipe right to read more."

– ROSEVILLE NEWS.

- an

Finally I got done with this chapter and really I just wanted to point out something that may be a little confusing, when the guy is explaining about this killer that's out and about, the part where this girl getting chased didn't happen yet. To them Ghostface isn't revealed yet and its just been a few people who have been found yk. The chase actually happened when luci is unpacking her things and the notification is later that night so I just wanted to clear that up since I confused myself when re- reading this over lol. ANYWAYS give me feedback if you feel you want to share anything!! <3

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@infinitewhore @mama-miya @m4gn3ziu @sleepyashe

note to be tagged again <3

#ghostface #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd killer #dbd fanfic #ghostface fic #ghostface fanfic #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x oc #dbd #horror fanfic #slashers #slasher fic

[justmybookthots]

City of Ashes

Wow.

I liked this book!

You can see my review of Book 1 here. For some time I really just considered my decision to re-read these old YA books as watching bad reality TV (especially with how awful 'Hush Hush' was) but this book was when I felt the gears in my head shift and I realised I was genuinely enjoying the story.

It took me a while to get started because I was reading other books but ever since I finished 'Suddenly a Murder' (and finished writing a chapter of a fanfic that was keeping me occupied), I told myself I'd refocus on getting this one done. Today I was feeling... not great in the morning, and I used this book as a distraction, thinking I'd probably finish it over the next few days (hopefully).

I finished it in like five hours. 💀

People can complain about this book (rightfully so, it's far from perfect) but it was easy to read and very addictive. I don't remember having had this much enjoyment reading it as a teen; it felt like a tedious haze in my memory. And because I don't remember 80% of this book, almost everything felt brand new to me.

Things I liked:

The Inquisitor. I get she's painted to be a villain but I need to say that I didn't really pay her much attention UNTIL 3/4 INTO THE BOOK WHEN THEY SAID HER SON WAS A HERONDALE AND I WAS LIKE, WAIT. BACK UP. So I went to search up "Herondale" and I FUCKING REALISED THEY INTRODUCED HER AS INQUISITOR HERONDALE AT FHE START AND I MISSED IT. I'm actually really glad I missed it because I'd have known her connection to Jace from the beginning, and now I get to be like OH MY FUCKING GOSH when I realise she's probably his grandmother (?). When you see the antagonism she regarded him with for most of the book and then you realise the connection… and SHE herself realised it… I AM SHOOKETH. Granted, readers are supposed to only connect the dots in the next book, but whatever. I get the epiphany NOW. 

She's honestly such a nuanced and great character. She felt like a mix of Umbridge (minus the pink and the simpering and all that gross shit) and Elias' mother from Ember in the Ashes. She made a massive mistake but you realise where she was coming from at some point. You're not supposed to justify her actions, just understand where her head/heart was at.

I used to really dislike Luke when I read him as a teen and now I'm confused why I did because I really like him? I think he's such a sweet soul and he's Clary's real dad at heart, not Valentine.

OOH! When the Unseelie Court was unveiled, I was so excited because after reading Cruel Prince I have a fresh perspective of fae that I didn't used to have reading this as a teen. I liked the Queen and overall how the fae was written. It's really similar to how I think they should be written (IMO). And it was nice tying that thread up at the end, even if a little sloppily. I really wish Cassandra would write a book with a fae lead but she seems to be good friends with Holly Black and that could be a bit weird? I don't know.

Also I really like Cassandra Clare's prose. I personally felt it was one of the better ones out there (or maybe I just feel this way after reading 'Hush Hush'). Maybe it's just more the style I like, even if some dialogue can be a bit cringe at times. 

The conversation between Maryse and Jace was really moving at the end. And just their relationship in general. I love that she DID love him, and saw him as one of her children from the start. I didn't have the best impression of her when she first appeared, but it's great for my perception to evolve over the course of the story.

Valentine is… interesting. As a teen I thought he was a rather clichéd villain (I mean… he IS), but he fills that established trope quite well. 

Magnus Magnus MAGNUS. Need I say more? He shone in almost every one of his cameos. 

Even Alec, who I find pretty boring, had his moment in this book. He pretended to side with the Inquisitor and then went to find Jace to help get him out of the prison. Granted, Alec still isn't anywhere as interesting as I wished he could be—especially compared to MAGNUS—but he was more decent than I expected. 

Really liked how the Fearless rune came into play!!!!!!!

I liked that scene where Jace and Clary talked outside the shower at his place. Most people probably won't like that scene because of the whole sibling shebang, but I enjoyed it. Jace was pretty upfront about things… though given the ending, I don't expect that to recur in the next book. 

Despite how old this book is, and the occasional girl-on-girl hate that I can't stand, Cassie does a pretty okay job at fleshing out female characters other than Clary. Isabelle is decent, and Maia is an interesting addition (I know she and Simon are getting together but whatever). For its time, this book is mostly all right save for a few problematic liners, and I'll give Cassie props for that. (For now. I'll see for the next book.)

Things I didn't like;

Simon, PLEASE GO AWAY. THE WORST PART IS I KNOW YOU WON'T GO AWAY BECAUSE I REMEMBER YOU BEING IN ALL THE BOOKS IN THIS SERIES. T_T He was the worst part of the story for me and cutting down most of his scenes would have made me so happy. When he showed up "dead" because the vampires attacked him, I was like, why do you give me false hope? When Valentine "killed" him again, I was like, FALSE HOPE NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE? SHAME ON YOU. This ugly ass won't stay dead. 😭 He's a tiny parasite that latches on for fucking dear life—my brother in Christ, what were you even doing in the Unseelie Court? He had no role or business there; it's like bringing a wailing baby on a plane. Cassie has to turn him into a vampire to make him halfway relevant but I just DON'T CARE. He was pretty much Ron Weasley in Harry Potter's body and I hated Ron. He tries to be funny but he isn't funny and he's just jealous and rageful most of the time and, like…

Look, I know this is a lot of Simon talk. But I'm still not done. I'm just adding another bullet point because the paragraph was too long. :') Anyway. You know what Simon says? He says this to Clary when she admits she loved Jace: 

He smiled at her. It was a sad smile with something else underneath. "You know what the worst feeling I can imagine is?" She blinked at him. "No." "Not trusting the person I love more than anything else in the world."

Babe, that was really #deep but just because she didn't like you back doesn't mean you can't trust her??? She's still your friend. She is NOT entitled to like you back and trust isn't contingent on your romantic affections being reciprocated. You are not entitled to having them reciprocated just because you were her best friend for years. That's classic "nice guy" manipulation tactics. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So you're saying because she didn't like you back, all those years of friendship are flushed down the drain and no more trust is left? I don't know how much more of this incel I can stomach. 🤮 Every time Clary sobbed in grief for him, I was like: sometimes we just gotta let that pimple pop and let him go, babe.

I gotta move on. Anyway: I didn't even get to see Alec and Magnus get together in the first place. T_T I have to see chapters in Nice Guy Simon's head but I don't get much of Alec or Magnus' POV here? It's not fair!!!!!!! I felt like I was missing a lot of things about them and how they got together in the first place. 

I'm not a huge fan of Clary and Jace being speshul people with speshul powers but eh. It's not a giant gripe but at least Clary doesn't become a combat expert overnight so I'll take that.

I find Jace and Clary's love for each other a little unconvincing but it could be worse, I guess. 

JACE, I know he's technically immature/a child but he really should have watched his mouth more with the Inquisitor. The first time he was sent to prison, I thought he deserved it with how he was mouthing off to her. But then later he showed a lot of self-discipline/sensibility with the Fair Folk so I was a little thrown by the whiplash. Again, it's not a major gripe, but yeah. 

I'm going to end the review here. Overall, I'm shocked by how much I liked this book given its poor reviews on GR, but we'll see how the next book fares for me (if I do get to read it… or finish it). I do want to add that the sibling thing doesn't faze me like it does many because I know in retrospect that it isn't true, and just… My brain is too screwed-up, I guess? I need to stop reading so many disturbing thrillers. Or manga.

But let me tell you: it felt REALLY surreal upping the book from the 3 stars I'd given it as a teen to 4. I've almost NEVER done that with an old read before. 

- 24 Nov 2023

#book blog #book review #fantasy books #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #city of ashes #the mortal instruments #chain of thorns

[theerrorofmylife]

The Sketch Artist

Yes this is a battinson fic. I definitely did not go see it twice just to write this. hah. I’ve been practicing quite a bit to write in a gender neutral tone so I hope that turned out ok. Also, I did change a few things but nothing too major. Enjoy.

 ~ Error

    When the sun rose in Gotham, it was as if the whole city held its breath, waiting for something to tell them that yes, another night was over, the dawn had come once again. One such morning, when the city woke up and the criminals that ran rampant among the civilians finally went back into hiding, I woke to find my alarm clock going off. 7 am, the time for workers to get ready, for children to be off to the busses, for those last-minute essays and tranquil cups of coffee. For 6 months, I couldn’t remember a time I had woken up before 10, but this was different. I had an art degree, and while I loved painting and drawing, neither paid the bills, especially not in Gotham. The police station, however, was in desperate need of a sketch artist these days, and I was happy to oblige. $10 an hour for a regular 9-5, plus I got to hang out with Gordon and the other cops who weren’t absolute sleazebags. It was an ok gig, it was a paycheck, and with the art, I did on the side occasionally, it made rent with a little extra for groceries…sometimes. But that was fine, it was just me and I didn’t have to eat every day… right? Whatever, it doesn't matter, the point was I had a job. And my alarm was still going. Rolling over in bed, I tapped my nightstand blindly in search of the beeping monstrosity. Finally, the sound stopped with the slam of a button, and I stumbled out of bed to get coffee. Coffee first, then brush teeth, then maybe shower if the water bill was worth it. By the time I left the apartment, it was 8:15, and I was hightailing it upstate to the police station. 8:15 seems like a reasonable time to leave but it’s not when you live on the other side of the city. Rushing inside the backdoor of the station, I waved to the cops and detectives as I made my way to Gordon’s desk. I could sit at my own desk, but why bother.

“5 minutes to spare. You’re getting good at this.” I hear him tease me. I look behind me to see him lounging on the banister. 

“You act as if I haven’t done this before.” I had known Gordon for years, all the way back to my mom’s homicide case when I was seven. He came around the house to help my dad, and about 3 years later when my dad passed away in a car accident Gordon stepped up and took care of me. He buddied up to a Lawyer named Dent and got emergency custody of me that way he could take care of me legally, and from there he was always surrogate dad #1. I was ten then. Now, sitting comfy at 23, I couldn’t remember a time when Gordon wasn’t a guiding light in my life.

“Well, now that you’re here, we’ve got four people who need to see you. There was a homicide last night, as well as a robbery.” Wow. I jumped up and hopped over to my desk, grabbing the extra-large sketch pad and the small bag of coal pencils and mega erasers. This was gonna be a long morning. 

~

By lunch, I had finished all the sketches, sat with a woman during a line-up purely for emotional support, and even took some time to entertain a kid while his dad was giving a statement. Overall, it was very productive and enjoyable. I left the station at about eight, staying a while longer so I could bug Gordon while he did the paperwork, but eventually, I was making my way back to my apartment. Gotham’s abyssal night had covered the city, and the endless rain was especially cold tonight. A breeze carried the chill beneath my clothes and made me shudder. I should have been watching where I was going, I should have been more careful because as soon as I stepped onto the subway platform, two rough hands took hold of my arms and threw me forwards to the ground. My hands didn’t catch my fall and my forehead hit the grimy pavement, pain coming in waves from behind and under my eyes. My eyes were so heavy, I almost didn’t realize my watch was being harshly tugged off my wrist. My bag had been tossed, and I could hear the contents being tossed about. My senses seemed to come back all at once and I ripped my hands away and began pushing myself away from whoever was near me. I kept crawling away till my back was pressed against the wall. Four to five men, all wearing different variations of sweaters, hoodies, leather jackets, and all looking in some way terribly threatening. The one who was trying to take my ring reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a switchblade that must have been the length of his forearm when brandished. I couldn’t fight against a knife like that, I had minimal combat training, I… I was going to die… suddenly everything went quiet. Deathly quiet, as if all of our hearts stopped at once. Footsteps echoed against the pavement steps, each one making my stomach tighten and my throat close. A fear I didn’t know I could feel settled over me as a man slowly approached from the darkness. Batman. Quite literally the most terrifying person in Gotham, the only one that every and any criminal ran from without shame. He was vengeance. My body was beginning to feel heavy, my arms feeling like any strength I once had was quickly drained, and my head felt… hot. Warmth had spread across my forehead and down my eyes and cheekbones. I was losing my ability to see, the visible area becoming hazy and foggy. I could hear fighting, sounds of the men yelling, the sounds of violence. Then a gun going off. Then nothing. No fighting, no footsteps, nothing. I couldn’t focus on anything anymore, my head felt like it was spinning, and I couldn’t make out who exactly was now beside me, so like any sane person moved to push myself as far away, but my arms couldn’t lift me anymore, and the hands holding my arms still wouldn’t let me.

“I’m gonna need you to stay still, ok?” a voice rumbled deep in my mind. I couldn’t describe it without sounding horribly attracted to it, but in truth, I was. It was deep, a lovely sound that might strike fear into someone who wasn’t close to unconsciousness and actually losing blood. In truth, even without the blood loss, I would probably still find him horribly attractive.

“No... what...?” I was sat back against the wall a large hand holding my head as it was gently placed back to rest. Whoever this was, they couldn’t be the same dark entity that beat criminals to a pulp. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and for the first time in the past 5 minutes, I could see clearly. The Bat himself, an extremely large man, towering over everything, imposing even in the darkness, was the one situating me to lean against the wall. He put his gloved hand up to his hood and spoke very quickly.

“There’s been a mugging, someone’s been injured… 51st street, subway entrance.” He took his hand off and I realized he hung up. It felt as if my back was slowly melting into the wall behind me, my head was so fuzzy, and it felt like someone was taking a hammer to the space behind my eyes. “I’ve called the EMTs…I’ll stay till they get here.” I nodded but it felt more like a whole-body jostle than an actual nod. My head was lolling to one side and my eyes were drooping. He was staying with me. It was a kindness I didn’t expect from him, the most dangerous man in Gotham. He sat there, hand on my knee, simply making sure I didn’t actually fall out of consciousness with a likely concussion. The heat from his covered hand bled through the leather and denim of my jeans, giving me chills all over as every nerve focused on the spot where his hand was. When I had the strength to lift my head, I caught sight of the most ice-like pair of eyes I’d ever seen. It was like stepping into an ice bath during summer, his eyes were in such high contrast with the dark kohl around his eyes and his dark armor. They were beautiful, in a way, and I found it unable to look away as I got a glimpse of the human behind the mask. I held his gaze for what seemed like forever, locking eyes with the apex predator of Gotham’s underworld. A shock went through both of us when the sirens were finally audible. I began shoving his hand off my knee with very little effort. He seemed so confused, reaching to stop me from moving too much.

“Go.” Was all I could really say, still trying to push him away, and all I got in return was a nod. Watching him leave, I saw him turn one last time, and then he was gone. It was almost like he was never there. Police swarmed the subway and immediately paramedics were crowding around me. 

~

The next morning, I woke up in the hospital. Gordon was sitting next to me, asleep in the chair, and I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. I stared at the ceiling, tracing the edges of the tiles as I tried to make sense of last nights events. The Bat saved me. It was weird, recalling all of it. It seemed so… fake… like he didn’t actually save me, because why would the Bat have time to save me from a mugging when there were worse things going on in the city? But the more I laid there, replaying it over and over, seeing him sitting with me in the tunnel again and again, it became more tangible. Something about him, something only found in books and in comics, something wonderfully terrifying that made my mind stall. Where even was he now? Where does the Bat go when the sun purges Gotham for another day? If I walk the streets in the darkness, would I find him again? - Why the hell would I want to find him again? Why the hell would I go out after dark ever again, especially after last night? But the more I thought about it, the more useless feeling scared seemed and the more seeing him again seemed… mandatory in a way. I have to see the Bat again; I just have to. It would be about 30 more minutes of studying the ceiling before Gordon woke, then another 45 minutes before I was discharged with only minor head trauma and some cuts on my head that needed stitching. Overall, not horrible.

“Please!!”

“Absolutely not! You just got out of the hospital, you’re not going back to work after last night, you’re going back to your place to sleep and recover.” I don’t want to go home though, if I do, I’ll never leave, I’ll simply curl up in bed and stay there until I decay. Better I go back to work and do something than decay, right?

“Gordon I’m going back to work.” I say with falsified finality and the glare I received was murderous.

“Kid. Go home.” Eventually I gave up. The ride back to my apartment was tense, I could tell Gordon was still frustrated with me. When he dropped me off, I didn’t say anything, I just walked inside and left Gordon in the car. It wasn’t that I was mad at him, I just didn’t want to prove him right by going to work and potentially passing out. I placed my bag and jacket on the rack by my door and slinked farther into my apartment studio. I slept till the next day, waking up to a text from Gordon telling me not to bother coming in. Great. The other night was still swimming in my head, the bat… Getting up, I shook off any soreness and made my way around the room like some old Victorian lady. Nothing to do, no one to be with, alone with my thoughts. How wonderful… He still stalked around in my mind, his movements last night replaying over and over on its own little movie screen behind my eyes. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. Marching through my apartment, I cornered a large 6ftx6ft canvas near the far window in the living room. Better to remove the thought altogether rather than continue to let it torture me.

It would be hours before I leave the living room, my stomach giving me a horrible pain, and I waddled off to the mini kitchen for food. From the living room, the news was going on about the attack at the late mayor’s funeral, how Batman had shown up, but the Riddler killed that guy anyways. This whole Riddle business was insane. I knew I was safe, I never dealt with the kind of stuff that the mayor or the DA ever did, but the idea didn’t cease to bother me. Sandwich in hand, as I walked back into the living room, the eyes of the cursed guardian stared back at me from the canvas. Black and bright blue stared off into the distance at an imagined object…or person. I had tried to mimic the khol around his eyes but that only made the mask harder to define, and the background was better black, making the whole situation too abstract for my nature, but perhaps it was better like that? I mean, it was the Batman after all, maybe abstract was fitting for who he is. To stare at the piece made me feel stupid; it didn’t do the real thing justice. The more I stared, the angrier I got at myself and the picture I had fabricated. My feet moved faster than my mind and before I could really think through my actions. I hated the picture so much, maybe because no matter how real I tried to make it; it wasn’t the real thing. Marching up to the canvas, sandwich forgotten, I reached out to sink my nails into the fabric only to have a strong hand grab my arm. The familiar warmth sunk into my skin, even through the glove. In a panic I threw my arm from his grasp and nearly jumped clear off the ground, hopping away. There, the B-Man himself, in all his vigilante-batshit-glory. Suddenly an indignant frustration came over me.

“Seriously?! Knocking is a thing, you know?” Forget the Batman being in my living room, this was an intrusion, and worse I felt completely stupid for having a giant picture of him in my apartment now. He didn’t answer though, he seemed to be completely focused on the painting. He blinked rapidly before moving his gaze towards me. All at once I felt ashamed. Those same ice-blue eyes; I’m a mess.

“Did you make this?” I nodded. His voice sounded the same as it had that night. Wonderfully horrible. “Its good.”

“Thanks…” He’s so weird!!!

“I need to ask; did you know any of those men who attacked you the other night?” The other night? Those men… I didn’t.

“No… why? They didn’t seem to be part of any group or organization.” I was trying to think ahead but even that wasn’t leading me to any conclusion.

“They were, they were going through your bag hoping you had police files on your person. They didn’t know you were a sketch artist with no real clearance to the kind of case they were going for.” Oh. Police files… I’ve never carried those with me, never even allowed to look at those by myself so I usually spy on them over Gordon’s shoulder, but I’d never carried one with me. “Your head, how is it?”

“Better than Gordon would believe.” His shoulders shook only once, as if he were huffing a laugh, but I refuse to believe the Batman would ever laugh at something.

“I have to go; I’m still tracking that group. You’d be safer at the precinct you know.”

“I do know. However, Gordon won’t allow me to go back to work, says I have this made-up thing called a concussion.” Again, his shoulders shook, and this time I can’t deny that that was something like a laugh. He laughed. Turning towards the window, he opened it all the way and stepped out, careful not to knock over the tiny pots and jars I had sat there.

“You know, maybe next time I’ll knock.” He jumped up the fire escape and we gone in seconds. What the absolute fuck……. wait.

“Next time?!”

~

 The next morning, I left for work early in order to corner the commissioner and see if I could return to work. When I got there, Gordon was waiting.

“No.”

“You really can’t stop me, you know. I need the work G, I can’t be cooped up like that!” Dashing past him, I ignored him yelling after me to go home and slipped into the commissioner’s office. Sara Essen, a wonderful friend of Gordon and I, and probably the only person I’d listen to in this who precinct.

“Commissioner! Commissioner Essen, how wonderful to see you today, you look absolutely radiant, as always Ma’am!!” I’m such a kiss-up, it would be pathetic if it weren’t so fun. Sitting at her desk, she me an accusatory glare before reaching into her desk, pulling my sketchpad and pencil bag out of her top drawer.

“Gordon said to keep these from you. Said you had a concussion.” I rolled my eyes animatedly.

“C’mooooon! Those are made up and you know it! Please, Sara, you know this isn’t going to affect my work, I sit all day and draw! Please don’t send me home…” I was begging, which was somehow worse than being a kiss-up. She sighed but had a small smile on her face none-the-less. Holding out the paper with the pouch balanced on top, I grinned widely and took them gratefully. Saying a quick thank you I ran out to wave my triumph in Gordon’s face. I love him, I really do, he’s like a father to me, but trying to keep me home was just cruel. The day went smoothly, no issues whatsoever. That was, until Gordon and a few other officers came over.

“Hey, don’t freak out, but Bruce Wayne is here to talk to you.” I’m sorry, what.

“Bruce Wayne? Why?”

“He was at the mayor’s funeral, his friend there says he got a look at the guy in the crowd, came in to give a description.” Right… that whole Riddler business, and then the attack at the mayor’s funeral. I didn’t know Bruce Wayne was even there, but it makes sense, I guess. Even recluses need to pay respect to the dead.

“Send him over then, what are you guys waiting for?” Gordon shook his head and motioned someone over. A man, very tall but slouched approached. He had dark hair that hung in his face and his coloring was abnormally pale, like he lived inside all of his life. Despite that, his eyes were minimally sunken in. His eyes, such a light blue, almost like… ice. “Hello Mr. Wayne.” Immediately his eyes shot to my face and a look of recognition passed between the two of us.

“Hello again. I suppose I should have knocked, hm?” My face flushed. It was him.

“You shouldn’t have risked coming here, do you even have a statement??” Are all vigilante-billionaires this careless? Then again who would ever suspect Bruce Wayne? Billionaire shut-in who is so traumatized by his parent’s murder that he can’t stand being in public, who would ever think that such a vulnerable, terrified man could be the most brave and lethal man in the entire city. Hell, it stands to reason that if the public’s version of Bruce Wayne ever met the Batman, he’d collapse on sight. But that was the public’s view, and that made all the difference, didn’t it?

“Yes, I do, don’t worry about me right now. I saw the Riddler at the funeral, in the banister above. He was there to see what would happen.” I nodded as I shuffled my papers around, digging out a clean one along with a new pencil and eraser.

“Ok. Give me his face structure first, then we’ll move to details.” He nodded and I saw beneath the shadow his hair cast a small smile. Huh. About an hour or two later we had finished the description and I had created a decent image of the man Bruce had described. He left shortly after, saying he had business to attend to, but also extending an invitation to the Wayne Tower. He left the precinct with what only very few would come to know as a smile.

#batman #battison #battinson #batman 2022 #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #gotham #vengence #pfft

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Vampire Chrissy AU, At Dawn They Sleep

"...what are you doing?" Eddie Munson stared down at the blood covered cheerleader who had her palm stuck out towards him.

"Trying to make you forget you ever saw this." She replied and Eddie continued to stare at her with rising confusion. The light just above the bar's back entrance illuminated her face. Chrissy Cunningham. Queen of Hawkins Highschool, barely over five feet tall and apparently a murderer. The older teen watched her continue to hold her palm out before he spoke.

"I'm ugh, not feeling anything. Sorry?" Eddie apologized, still unsure on what was even happening. Chrissy's arms went down and she frowned at him.

"Damn it! This works for everyone else."

If Eddie Munson was a rational person he would probably be running now. But the curiosity heavily outweighed the fear. Instead he snorted at the blonde girl's face.

"What? Were you trying to mind control me like a vampire or something?" He jokingly asked. Or at least it was a joke until he saw the way her now prominent fangs shown in the faint alley light. "Wait a sec-holy shit. Are you a fucking vampire?" He didn't wait for an answer as the panic finally started to set in. "Oh my God. Chrissy Cunningham is a fucking vampire. And you just killed a dude! What the fuck-?" He was cut off by Chrissy rushing at him. Eddie dropping the cigarette he'd been smoking in surprise as she lifted him up against the brick alley wall with surprising ease. One hand gripping the front of his shirt while the other wrapped around his mouth to silence his panic.

"Please don't panic." She said, seeming to make the goth only more panicked as he looked down at her with wide eyes. "I didn't kill him. I just...took a little drink. I never drink enough to kill. I promise. He'll just wake up in a few hours and won't remember anything." To this Eddie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Listen, I'll let you go but you have to promise not to scream. Okay?" Eddie took a moment to think before nodding. Letting the taller boy go and he dropped to the ground. Taking a moment to catch his breath and he glanced over at the body again. A still breathing body. Watching the man's chest rise and fall, if only slightly.

"Okay, ugh, wow. Lot to process right now...first off, holy shit. You're a vampire." He managed to get out. "That's definitely...weird."

"Um yeah." Chrissy nodded in agreement. "Sorry, it's just you're taking this surprisingly well. Most people freak out went they see the fangs."

"Freak out? Why would I do that? This is like the coolest thing ever. You're a vampire!" Eddie replied giddily. "Have you always been like this? Can you fly? Can you turn into a bat? Are the fangs like straws or is it more of a scrape and lick type of thing?" So many questions ran through his head as the blonde blankly stared at him.

"You're not scared of me?"

"No. This is like the coolest thing ever! Holy shit balls!" Eddie's reaction made the girl giggle.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No! Course not." Eddie shook his head. "Don't know if you've noticed but this town hates different. I get the shit beat out of me for being a dude who paints his nails. Who knows what they'd do if they found out you were a blood sucking creature of the night."

"I guess." Chrissy frowned. "And the answer to most of this questions are, I have no idea. I was only turned a year ago."

"Well we have to fix that!"

"Fix...what?" The cheerleader asked as her face screwed up in confusion.

"Come on, aren't you curious? You're w vampire now! Imagine all the different things you can do!" Eddie puffed up his chest and pointed a thumb at himself. "And you are looking at a bona-fide vampire aficionado. I've seen every vampire movie ever and I've DMed the Strahd Ravenloft module twice."

"I have no idea what any of that last part meant but if you're willing to help, I'll try anything!" Chrissy agreed when there was a groan from the man lying behind the dumpster. "We should probably talk later. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow sounds cool."

#stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddissy #hellcheer au #hellcheer #vampire au

[g0thictaem]

12 | Kim Taehyung, BTS

—————

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader | Reader is Gender Neutral with they/them pronouns used!

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Unrequited Love

Warnings: n/a :)

Summary: (Y/N) reflects on all of their good memories with their best friend, Taehyung.

Requested: Yes

A/N: I hope you feel better Kylie!

*(Y/N)'s POV*

I wish I was 12; things were so much easier then. No drama, no heartbreak, no depression, nothing. Everything was perfect. My family was perfect. My friends were perfect. He was perfect.

His beautiful, chestnut hair waving wildly in the wind. His large boxy smile taking up his whole face. His eyes that looked like little crescent moons everytime he smiled.

Kim Taehyung, my best friend.

We were 12 when we met. It was a chilly, autumn afternoon. I had just gone back into the building after helping my art teacher with painting outside for the contest. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I ran right into someone's chest.

"Ow...that hurt. Oh! Are you okay?" I looked up to see a boy, holding out his hand. I took it, him helping me stand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay? I ran into you pretty hard..." He rubbed the back of his neck, giggling.

"I'm okay. Don't worry about it!" I looked at him curiously. I just almost knocked us both clean off our feet, and he's forgiving me?

"I'm so sorry..."

"Taehyung," he said with a boxy smile.

I smiled back. "Taehyung, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

"Hey, it's okay...what's your name?"

I smiled. "(Y/N)."

"Wow, that's such a cool name. Are you a forgiener?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm from (C/N). I moved here a few years ago."

His eyes widened. "Wow, you're so good at Korean! You should teach me your language!" I smiled, giggling at his childlike behavior. "Oh, that is...if you want to. I won't...pressure you or anything." He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"No, that'd be awesome. Wanna meet at the library after school?"

His face brightened, a smile gracing his features. "Yeah, sure! I'll tell my grandma now! Bye (Y/N)!"

"Bye Taehyung!" I watched as he ran off, sighing.

He's cute.

We had spent 3 hours at the library that day. I taught him (Y/L) and he helped me with my homework. It was a fair trade off.

After that day, Taehyung and I became inseparable. We were best friends, and always would be.

"Taehyung! Stop! That tickles!"

"Oh yeah," he questioned. He started to tickle me more, moving to a more ticklish part of my body.

"Don't! Noooo! Taehyung!" I pleaded with him, tears streaming down my face.

He smirked, hovering over me. "I'll stop. Only if...you call me oppa."

I rolled my eyes. He's always trying to get me to call him that, even though he isn't that much older and it makes no sense. "No."

He shrugged. "Fine, then." He then continued to tickle me, stopping for nothing.

"Taehyung, no! Please," I said in-between giggles. He laughed, shaking his head.

"Not until you call me oppa!"

I shook my head, laughing. My sides were starting to hurt. I swear I would have abs at this point.

"Taehyung! Please! I'm gonna pee!"

"I don't believe you!" I struggled against him, giving in.

"Fine! Oppa! Oppa! Oppa! Stop!" He smirked triumphantly, getting off of me. I took in deep breaths of air, him kicking my side lightly.

"Oh hush, I'm not that heavy."

"Says you! I couldn't breathe!" He rolled his eyes, pushing me playfully.

Taehyung sat down on the floor, running a hand through his hair. I watched him, taking notice of how it flopped back against his forehead.

I smiled, him giving me his boxy smile back.

I wish I was 13. Back when everything was so much easier and happier; back when he was happier.

Years went by, Taehyung and I growing closer and closer. We ended up going to the same highschool, having a lot of the same classes.

I remember that first day back during sophomore year. Taehyung had worn the bracelet we made when we were kids. So did I.

The sounds of a wobbly skateboard sounded against the pavement. "(Y/N)!" I turned around, seeing Taehyung riding up towards me. He screeched to a stop, hopping off his board. He kicked it up, holding it in his hand.

"Hey Tae. I missed you." I gave him a big hug, his arms wrapping around me just as tight.

"I missed you, too. Oh, look!" We parted from the hug, Taehyung holding up his wrist. A colorful bracelet dangled, the charms waving through the wind.

I smiled, holding up my wrist, showing off my matching bracelet. "I remembered."

He smiled, grabbed my hand. I felt my face get hot, my heart starting to beat louder. Taehyung pulled me along the sidewalk, walking up towards the school. "Come on! We don't wanna be late on the first day back." I nodded, smiling at him.

He gave his same boxy smile, his eyes like crescents.

I wish I was 15. Back then, everything was more bright. He was more bright.

I remember the party Ilhoon threw during Junior year. I had worn an old tank top and was freezing my ass off. Taehyung gave me his wornout flannel so I didn't get sick.

I remember that time when we went to the skatepark for our friend's birthday. Taehyung was shredding it on the half pipes, when he fell off his board, scraping his knees in the process. I sat him down on top of the picnic table and patched up his knees. We were all out of regular Band-Aids, so I had to give him Hello Kitty ones instead. Our friends teased him, but he just gave me that same boxy smile and said, "I'll wear them well!"

I wished I was 17. Back when I had a crush on my best friend. Back when he was mine.

"Hey! Why aren't you inside? Oh shit...are you okay?" I wiped my eyes, avoiding Taehyung's eyesight.

He walked over, sitting down next to me. Placing his cup on the step, he turned to me and hugged me.

I sighed, hugging back. "I'm here. It's okay. Just...let it all out."

I cried into his chest, balling his shirt into my fists. "I hate this, Tae. I hate feeling like this."

"I know. I know, babe." My heart raced at the nickname, suddenly becoming hyper aware of how close he was. I gulped, pulling away from him.

"I understand if you don't wanna take me home. You should stay and have fun, I'll just call an Uber." I stood up, Taehyung grabbing my wrist.

"No! I mean...no, it's not safe. I'll drive you home." He stood up, downing the rest of his drink. "Just let me get my keys, and then we'll be outta here."

We walked back inside, Taehyung's arm around my shoulders. He tossed the cup in the trash, picking up his keys from the bowl.

"Taehyung! Where you going, man?" Minhyuk walked over, a cup held loosely in his hand.

"I'm taking (Y/N) home; they aren't feeling too good."

Minhyuk frowned, patting my shoulder. "Awe, feel better (Y/N). Thanks for coming guys." We nodded, heading outside and to Taehyung's car.

He helped me get in, buckling my seatbelt for me. He closed the door and got in on his side. After snapping his seatbelt, he put the keys in the ignition, the car revving to life. "Thank you, Tae."

He smiled, winking at me. "No problem. Between you and me, that party was getting kinda boring anyway." I giggled, Taehyung chuckling and pulling off, heading towards home.

I wish I was 20. Back then, Taehyung was the sweetest man I knew. He was so beautiful, too. I had the biggest crush on him. But...he loved someone else.

"(Y/N)! I have someone very special I want you to meet!" I smiled, looking over at the girl next to him.

She smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm Eunha."

"(Y/N)," I said, shaking her hand.

"She's my girlfriend." My heart dropped.

Girlfriend? No, please no.

I nodded, faking a smile. "It's so nice to meet you!"

She grinned, nodding. Taehyung smiled, hugging her side and kissing her temple.

I was so upset that day. I spent the rest of it crying at Yoongi's house.

"Ugh! I've never cried over a boy, ever." Yoongi shook his head, continuing to play the game on his phone.

"There's a first for everything, (N/N)." I rolled my eyes, wiping away the tears.

I rested my head on Yoongi's shoulder, watching him play.

The door suddenly opened, us both looking at the sound. Yoongi grumbled, continuing to play. "Last time I checked, doors are closed for a reason in this house."

"They're also meant to be opened. What if the door wanted to fulfill their purpose, Yoongi? Huh? What then?" Yoongi sighed, Jungkook plopping down on the couch next to him. Hoseok closed the door, sitting next to me.

He took me in his arms, cradling me like a baby. "Is my baby still sad?" I nodded, hugging him tighter.

"I hate boys."

"Hey!" Yoongi smacked Jungkook, shaking his head at him.

"Not now, dumbass. They're clearly upset. Take your offense elsewhere." Jungkook pouted, opting to watch Yoongi play instead.

"Why, Hoseok? Why? Why did he have to get a girlfriend?" He sighed, patting my back.

"Hey, Tae still loves you, (N/N). He'll never let anyone replace you, ever."

Well, that was a lie. Here I was, standing in a dressing room, having just finished getting dressed. My hair had been done a few hours ago

Today is Taehyung's wedding day.

I had always thought about it. About how pretty my dress/tux would be, how my mom would cry, and how I'd walk down the aisle towards Taehyung. How we'd say our vows, me pouring my heart out to him. How we'd say I love you, and tie it all together with a kiss.

But that's not happening.

Because Taehyung fell in love with someone else.

"Are you ready?" I nodded, sighing. We exited the room and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of the large double doors.

"3, 2, 1, go."

The doors opened, the sounds of Canon in D ringing throughout the church. The girls started to file into the room, the boys following every other bridesmaid. I was the last one, Yoongi behind me. He smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

I began to walk down the aisle, the guests all watching and smiling. Taehyung stood at the end, a huge smile on his face. I walked down the aisle gracefully, making sure not to trip. I stopped at the pew, turning and standing next to the other bridesmaids and best men. I smiled at Taehyung, giving him a thumbs up. He smirked, turning his attention towards the doors.

There stood Eunha, a beautiful, white wedding gown adorned her. The trail followed behind her, the veil covering her face. She walked down the aisle with her father, a smile gracing her lips. I glanced at Taehyung, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach.

He held so much love in his eyes. That same adorable, boxy smile taking up half his face. However, it was no longer directed at me, but someone else. A single tear fell down his cheek, Eunha stopping in front of the pew.

Her father removed the veil, kissing her cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

He sat back down, Taehyung taking her hands in his.

The piano stopped, the priest walking over. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, and to cherish the words which shall unite Taehyung Kim and Eunha Park in marriage. Marriage is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love, who honor each other as individuals, and who chose to spend the rest of their lives together. This ceremony will not create a relationship that does not already exist between you. It is a symbol of how far you have come these past few years. It is a symbol of the promises you will make to each other to continue growing stronger as individuals and as partners. No matter what challenges you face, you now face them together, and no matter how much you succeed, you now succeed together. The love between you joins you now as one. The bride and groom have a few words to share."

Before I knew it, the vows were shared. "Do you, Taehyung Kim, take Eunha Park, to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Taehyung nodded, smiling. "I do." He took the ring, sliding it on her finger.

"And do you, Eunha Park, take Taehyung Kim, to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Eunha nodded, "I do." She slid the ring on his ring, Taehyung beaming at her.

"Go now in peace and live in love, sharing the most precious gifts you have the gifts of your lives united. And may your days be long on this earth. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The priest stood back, Taehyung grabbing Eunha's cheek.

Their lips met in a sweet kiss, the church cheering. They smiled at each other, walking down the aisle hand-in-hand. I felt a tear slide down my cheek, everyone filing out the church and outside.

My lips were trembling, my hands shaking. I wiped away my tears, running out the church. Everyone was cheering excitedly, congratulating the happy couple.

Yoongi slid his arm around my waist, hugging me. "I know, (N/N), I know."

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

The afterparty was coming to an end, most of the guests leaving. Taehyung walked up to me, sitting down in the chair next to mine.

"Wow. I'm finally a married man." I nodded, smiling softly.

"Yeah, you are. You're not that cute little boy I ran into anymore." He pouted, lightly pushing me.

"Yah, don't embarrass me, (N/N). So, did you have fun at the party?" I nodded, smiling at him.

He rose his eyebrow, tilting his head to the right. "What?" I shook my head, looking down at my lap.

"Nothing, it's just..." I looked back up at him, smiling sadly. "You're all grown up, Tae."

He nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah, I mean, you are, too. When's your wedding gonna be?" He nudged me, winking.

I rose my eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He giggled. "You know, you and Yoongi." My eyes widened.

"What? I'm not with Yoongi." Taehyung narrowed his eyes, smirking.

"Hm...I don't believe you. You're always hanging with him. I mean, he was your date to my wedding."

I frowned, shaking my head. "I'm not with Yoongi, Tae. We're just friends." He nodded, sighing.

"Whatever you say, (N/N). Well, I think it's time for me to go." We both stood up, Taehyung pulling me into a tight hug. "I'll miss you, (Y/N)."

I sighed, inhaling his scent. "I'll miss you too, Taehyung."

We pulled apart, Taehyung giving me that same adorable, boxy smile I've come to love so much.

"I love you." I smiled, kissing his cheek.

"I love you, too." He smiled one last time, turning and leaving. He met up with his wife, them both getting into the car.

I walked over, watching as they drove away. Jungkook wrapped his arm around me, resting his head against mine.

"I wish I was 12."

He hummed. "Why?"

I smiled sadly, sighing. "Things were so much easier then. No drama, no heartbreak, no depression, nothing. Everything was perfect. My family was perfect. My friends were perfect. He was perfect."

#cries #this shit sad lol #sorry for depression for my first work #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung kim #kim taehyung #v bts #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan

[threshasketch]

Wow, so apparently today is the 8th anniversary of me starting this art blog. I started Threshasketch in the September of 2015, and my main blog the year before in June.

In that time, I've gone through drawing OCs, fanart for numerous fandoms, traditional style line work and pencil sketches, digital line work and coloring, painting photo-real style, and so, so many chibi art pieces. Art has been my rock through some really hard times in my life. Posting cute chibis to brighten somebody else's day helped brighten mine.

Since 2015, my country has gone through three different presidencies, the world has gone through (and is still quietly going through) a global pandemic, and I've gone through years of struggling. Most of that struggling has been in the past 5 years, but boy does 5 years sound like a lot of time to be struggling for basic living things like heat and food.

Things were really bad just a few years ago. At one point I only had electricity four hours per day, because I couldn't afford gas for the generator. I uploaded digital art because "scanning" (taking pics of on my phone) traditional line art was hard when the place I was living was so dark. Patreon and art commissions were the only reason I had money for food on many occasions.

I've had to move three different times in the past four years. I got rid of or lost a lot of my belongings to live in a small space. Had to deal with rats in my living space twice in as many years. Had to take my 23-year-old cat to the vet to pass peacefully AND help my parents take their little dog with heart failure to the vet to pass peacefully in the same year.

Did I mention I had major abdominal surgery this summer with months of recovery time? Yeah. That actually went really smoothly. I didn't realize how bad my health was getting for the past few years because it was a gradual problem, but I was exhausted all the time, unable to do much physical activity, and super anemic. Just passed the two month mark since surgery, and am feeling so much better it's shocking remembering how bad off I was before. Cripes, I should have done this years ago.

So why, if art has been a coping method for me, has this blog had barely any updates for years? Well, I overextended myself on art commissions, which made my art escapism into a pressure thing. It's nobody's fault but my own, but several of those commissions did not get finished, and that made art into a guilty thing, so I sort of...shut myself down on Tumblr, because drawing for fun seemed wrong when somebody was waiting on me to finish their art piece. So I stopped drawing at all for a long while. That helped nobody—it just made it so that I wasn't warmed up enough to draw the commissions, either.

I'm just now getting to where I'm financially able to reach out to the people who paid me for commissions and refund them. I've refunded several already. If you are one of my art commission customers, you'll be hearing from me, I promise. I haven't forgotten you, I have every commission I ever took in a list saved on my computer.

Speaking of financially able, I'm no longer supporting myself with art and Patreon alone. For most of The Pandemic Years I've been pouring all of my creative energy into becoming a full-time indie erotica author. I write my own stories, I paint my own covers, I do everything myself. It's the most fun job I've ever had, honestly, and it's paying my bills. ♥

I've managed to build it up into a monthly income somehow, and this winter is looking a lot less terrible than last winter. In general, my living situation is now stable, the roof doesn't leak, the lights all work, hell I even have a functioning shower and the ability to have running hot water.

Anyway, yeah. It's been a rough go of it, and this art blog has been around through it all. I got a new art tablet for my birthday, and drawing feels like being carefree again. Here's to many more years of art. ♥

#8 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone #art blog birthday #threshasketch #threshie #I wrote this out on the actual anniversary on the 8th and then put it in the drafts because I feared it was a vent post #but on re-reading it's just me being honest about how lousy things have been LOL #I think most people have had a rough go of things so I'm certainly not alone #anyway yaaaay happy belated art blog anniversary to me #coming back to Tumblr was a great decision #I have a lot of nostalgia attached to it ♥

[levi-supreme]

Henlo Mrs. Ackermannnn ❤️

I'm here for your valentines event :3

My beloved husband Erwin taking me out to the quaint restaurant where we had our first date!

Work your magic, please ✨

Henlo Mrs Smith my beloved sister-in-law <;333 and here is your outfit (Pinterest link) for your date with your giant husband hehe. It might be a little similar to this, but I promise you it's different <3

Rei's Ask Games: Valentine's Day Special

"Mia, sweetheart," Erwin's voice chimed through the house, "are you done? We have to lea—" he stopped in his tracks and stared at you from the bedroom door.

"Wow. You look stunning, sweetheart." Erwin smiled seeing you. You were dressed in a lovely light blue dress which accentuated all your curves, your makeup was simple and flaunted your beautiful features. You beamed at your husband, picking up your lip gloss.

"I'll be done soon. Are the kids ready to leave?"

"Mm-hmm," Erwin nodded, "Levi and Rei will be here in a minute to pick them up." Putting your lip gloss, you took your handbag and wore your heels before leaving with your husband and children. Meeting the couple downstairs, the both of you thanked them for doing you this favour. Levi shrugged as he sat Aria in the baby seat in his car.

"Tch. Don't mention it. Enjoy yourselves." Waving you two goodbye, Levi drove off and Erwin ushered you into his car.

"So, where are we going on this lovely evening?" You chuckled as Erwin helped you buckle up.

"You'll find out soon." Driving out of the apartment's parking lot, Erwin drove into the sunset while the radio played in the background. Soon, Erwin parked his car and you felt yourself break into a smile. Erwin brought you to the restaurant where you two had your very first date years back. Erwin had his hand on the small of your back as you approached the waiter. Once he checked Erwin's name off the reservations list, he ushered you both inside.

The restaurant was just as you remembered: the warm orange lights hanging from the ceiling, the distinct red and white table cloth, the vases of plastic flowers on each table, the smell of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen, and the country music playing in the background. And just like what you remembered, the restaurant was extremely crowded.

You were ushered to a table and as you took your seat, you looked up and saw a painting of a bowl of fruit. Something struck a chord in your memory.

"Sweetheart? Were we seating here back then?" You asked Erwin as he looked through the menu. The faint smile on his face gave you the answer.

"They haven't changed their menu." Erwin commented as he flipped through the pages, already knowing what to order, "it's been so many years."

"You don't need to change anything if it's good." You smiled and looked at the menu as well. A waitress promptly attended to your table and Erwin ordered a side of mozzarella sticks, meatballs, Greek salad, shrimp scampi over linguine for you, and a chicken piccata over spaghetti for himself. Erwin also ordered a slice of tiramisu to be fired later. As Erwin passed the menu to the waitress, you laughed.

"You ordered the same thing we did that time." You smiled fondly at the memory.

As the food was served, Erwin and you had a perfect evening together. The taste of the dishes were the same; hearty, warm, filling, and delicious. The both of you finished your scrumptious dinner within the hour. While waiting for the dessert to be served, Erwin excused himself to go to the bathroom.

When he returned, Erwin gave you a bouquet of roses and handed a small velvet box over as well. Unravelling the ribbon, you opened the lid and saw a beautiful pendant hanging on a delicate silver chain. Erwin stood up and took his seat beside you, taking the necklace out of the box. Sweeping your hair to one side, Erwin kissed your exposed shoulder and put on the necklace for you.

"I think you may have realised this, sweetheart," Erwin spoke close to your ear as he fastened the necklace's clasp, "that we're back in the same restaurant, we're seated at the same table, and we're eating the same things from back then." Erwin held your shoulder and gently turned you around to face him.

"I just want you to know that no matter how much time has passed, some things will always be the same, just like my never-ending love for you." Erwin tilted your chin up and pressed his lips softly on yours. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mia." Your eyes were brimming with tears as you flung your arms around Erwin's neck and you pulled him close.

"I love you so much, Erwin." Then both of you were locked in a tight embrace and you only let go of Erwin when the waitress came to your table with a plate of tiramisu. She also offered to take a complimentary photo of you and Erwin, and gave you a photo as well. The both of you ate your dessert happily, and you were thinking of ordering a second slice. Erwin jokingly reminded you that he still had to pick up the kids. Erwin took your hand as you left the restaurant, clutching the bouquet of roses close.

"Let's come back again next year with the kids." You smiled as you sat in the car with the bouquet on your lap. Erwin nodded in agreement.

"Same orders?"

"No, honey, I don't think so." You chuckled, fondling with the pendant resting on your sternum. Erwin laughed along and reversed out of the parking lot, driving off holding your hand tightly in his.

#ack3rlady.asks #rei.answers #rei's ask games #rei's ask games: valentine's day special #i had to throw in some reivi in there lol I'M SORRY HAHA #anyway i hope you like this my loveeeeeeeeeee

[matrose]

Hello ! How are you doing ? I'm a FAN of your artwork and i would like to ask a few questions if it's ok for you to answer them ? I would like to know how long does a drawing take you ? ( like, for a non-background/only character by example and how long does it take you for a full masterpiece like those you are doing for khazad week ? epsecially the last one with the oh so like dream mountains ? ) And did you learn by yourself ? Are there any artists that you admire and that have inspired your style ? oh and the most important : do you think you will ever do illustrations for children's stories like fairy tales? because your artwork is very colorful and cute ( and amazing, marvelous, wonderful, poetic, incredible ) and I can see your kind of drawings on the covers of children's stories ! have a nice day !

oh wow hello!!! i am very well and luckily mostly recovered from being sick so i was properly outside again and visited the deer and goats at the park, so i'm very happy 🥰 this is such an incredibly sweet ask and i am very flattered to have received it!! i'm happy to answer your questions 🫶

luckily, i've got an artprogram (ProCreate) that automatically records my process and tells me how long it took - everything i draw varies greatly in style because i usually draw whatever i feel like drawing and try whatever i want to try...i really really like trying out all the different brushes available to me and see where they take me!! so i'll show you four different drawings and how long they took me:

there's a lot of variables but in general cell-shading is a lot quicker than a painting approach ❣️

my latest drawing for khazad week took around 3 hours i believe - i had a lot of fun with filling everything with these little swirls and shapes, i used to fill entire pages with stuff like that during train rides when i was younger. i'm honestly a bit surprised people are liking it that much but i'm very happy! my backgrounds usually take a bit longer though, i've checked a few bigger drawings and they all come out to around 7 hours!

i had a few How To Draw books in my team, i especially remember one on animals and one on anime that i had when i was 12, though i also remember not really using them and being a bit bored by them. i also had a book about drawing when i was maybe 5 and i remember that one really fondly. it used simply shapes and bright colors and there was an underwater landscape with fish and corals and algae that i thought was sooo beautiful and that i would draw over and over again. i think that one stuck with me haha! otherwise i am self-taught in the sense that i never really attended classes beyond the mandatory ones at school. art/drawing for me personally has always been about having fun and trying myself out and being happy more than anything else.

it's also why i will not and can not ever do art properly as a proper job like graphic design, and i am not sure i could do comissions either. if i am bored and/or restricted the quality greatly suffers...this is truly just for my own fun 😚 though to prematurely answer your last questions i actually COULD very much imagine doing kids books illustrations - those are usually very whimsical and fun and unless the author has very specific pictures in mind already, i could just go nuts with it...kind of a dream honestly though the deadline would be so scary!

as for inspiration...this one is haaard to answer! i constantly get inspired by so many things i see every day - tumblr is so full of wonderful images and nature itself is so beautiful and sometimes i'll recall things from my childhood, books with vaguely remembered illustrations about all kinds of things (the caves in mountains from what i posted yesterday were based on a blurry memory of a book my father read to me when i was pretty young) and then there's museums... on top of it all i study art-history so i am always surrounded by beautiful images...how overwhelming. here are three artists that have inspired me with shapes and colors and patterns:

gustav klimt, phyllis shafer, and wenzel hablik!! in general i really really love art noveau, expressionism, and abstract art and i also love childrens books illustrations!

i don't at all come close to any of them and my more cartoonish style is a way of mimicking features of the art that i love but without putting too much work into it hahahahah

thank you again for this lovely lovely ask, it made me feel really cool 😳 i hope you'll have a wonderful day morning or evening, wherever you are 💐 feel free to ask more questions if i've answered anything in an unclear manner or if you just feel like it:)<3

#feel like this answer is a bit long and rambly - sorry! #anyways thank you so so much again your words made me really happy 🥺❤️💐

[composttea]

🌲 Masterpost 🌲

🌲 Full Fic 🌲

The plane dipped out of the bright, clear sky into a gray haze. Clouds crushed against the windows. I stared at the book in my lap and pretended to read. Three hours ago, I was standing on the warm, solid ground in Phoenix.

My mom stood at the drop-off, smiling. I hefted my suitcase out of the back and made my way over to the side of the SUV.

“Ready?”

I shrugged and she frowned.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know. Phil will be fine on his own.”

A plane roared overhead, drowning her out. Her boyfriend was a baseball player, currently up for recruitment. Spring training was calling his name, and with it my mom.

I leaned in and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I want to, really. Just not looking forward to the flight.”

Renée hugged me back, squeezing my shoulders tight. “Oh, sweetie. I wish you weren’t all on your own.”

“I’ll have Charlie! And school.” I doubted I would be making many friends. I think Renée could tell. Even if she struggled with the practical side of things, she could pick up on the nuances of my feelings better than I could. It was reassuring, but there was nowhere to hide.

The car behind us honked. Renée turned and waved at them.

“Who else is going to keep Charlie company?”

She smiled softly at me. “Did you pack enough clothes? Washington gets cold.”

I waggled my carry-on, containing little more than a book and a fluffy, dark green sweater. Renée had knitted it a few years back, one of many hobbies she had tried out over the years. It was a bit lumpy, but it was the warmest thing I owned. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

I was a bad liar, but a persistent one.

The traffic was starting to pile up, and Renée darted forward to scoop me into a tight hug.

“I love you so much, honey.” She stepped back and looked me in the eyes. Hers were a sparkling green-gold that I envied. Just brown for me. “Call me as soon as you land, okay?”

I nodded and started toward the entrance. I didn’t look back.

Charlie picked me up from the airport in the police cruiser. I sank into my seat as he loaded my bag in the back. The drive to his house was familiar, but things had changed in the three years since I had last visited. The diner had a new sign. The city had patched up a few of the bigger potholes. I considered picking something at random to talk about, just to save us both from the awkward silence.

“You remember Billy Black?”

Charlie and I shared a brain sometimes.

“Yeah?” Of course I remembered Billy. He and my dad had been friends as long as I could remember.

“If you want it, I just bought a ‘63 Chevy off him. He and his son fixed it up over the winter.”

I looked away from the thick mist looming over the road at Charlie. “That’s—wow, thank you.”

He shrugged. After a moment, he tested out a smile. “Agreeing before you even take a look?

“I have very low standards.”

Charlie laughed lightly and tried to continue with the small talk.

We pulled up on the road leading to the house. Like everything else in the town, it was crowded out by green. Trees and moss peeked through every gap and crack in the road. Even the sky looked sickly, like it was starting to go rotten at the horizon.

There was a hulking, red pick-up waiting in the driveway. The fenders curved like boxing gloves, challenging any lesser car to impact. I loved it.

As soon as he got my suitcase upstairs, Charlie mumbled something about a baseball game and made himself scarce. It was eerie being back in my old room. I spent a couple months every summer here as a kid, captured in the layers of pictures and decorations like bugs in amber. Did you know "nostalgia" was originally a sickness? My chest tightened as I took in the faded blue paint and the chipped desk tucked in the corner. Charlie and I found it at a garage sale when I was eleven. I got to unpacking right away, but I took my time. Once my stuff was put away I would be actually living here.

***

A small pile of sawdust and woodchips greeted me in the living room. I had spent the night listening to music, loudly enough that I couldn’t hear anything else. Had someone broken something? My brother emerged from his room a moment later, answering my question.

It was the knife. The knife was too blunt. Must have been. Jasper looked up from straightening his cuffs and glowered at me.

“Good morning.” I waved at the pile on the coffee table. “Trouble last night?”

“It was shaping up nicely, but my hand slipped.” Jasper stalked past me to the coat closet.

I could see the image in his mind with perfect clarity: a waterfowl of some sort, whittled from a block of pine. It splintered into nothing when he lost his focus and crushed it.

“Maybe you should try stone.”

“Maybe you should try staying out of my head,” he snapped. He closed his eyes for a moment before returning my gaze. “Sorry.”

I wasn’t looking forward to babysitting again today. This semester was Jasper’s first full-time enrollment at a high school. We tested the waters last fall. Constance thought he was doing well (and I suppose he was, in terms of body count) , but she didn’t have to hear his every thought about the swathes of humans he was in classes with. But he hadn’t acted on any of it, which was what mattered. It didn’t help things that Jasper was keenly aware of my frustration with him, however hard I tried to disguise it. There were thoughts and feelings we silently agreed never to speak about, and so far, the system was working.

“There’s a new student today.” I met Jasper at the closet and took my coat when he handed it to me. “The Chief’s daughter.”

“Hm.” He pulled on his boots. Does he think I forgot?

“I thought the students might be excited about it—something a little different than usual.”

Jasper’s mouth was pressed into a hard line, but he smiled at me. “Hoping to make a friend?”

I laughed, and he joined me. Since our sister served her time last year, we had to be each other’s company. As much as I disliked looking over my shoulder, it was nice to have anyone to talk to. I know he was annoyed—to put it lightly—at the mental invasiveness of my presence, but he felt the same.

I got to watch the new girl through a hundred lenses, each colored with its own narrative. Isabella arrived this morning in a 1963 Chevy pickup, rust red and extremely vocal. The boy who saw her get out of the truck thought she was pretty—he only had a glimpse of dark brown hair and pale skin, and I frankly didn’t care to look closer. 

I wish I could say it was miserable. In fact, it was just as mind-numbingly dull as it always was. This was Asphodel, not Tartarus. For me, at least. My brother was struggling today. The student body fawned and fussed over Isabella—no, just Bella, she insisted—completely unaware there was a wreck of a vampire a hair’s breadth from snapping in their midst. 

Jasper's gifts were particularly maladapted to a high school environment. Yes, hearing the endless torrent of thoughts of every human I passed was a living nightmare, but experiencing the emotional turmoil of three hundred teenagers for six hours at a time was a special circle of hell. The thoughts I caught when I passed Jas in the halls were enough I considered pulling him aside, as much as he would hate it. He was older—biologically and empirically, by two and sixty years, respectively—but I often felt like the elder sibling, seeing as I had been committed to our family's particular lifestyle significantly longer. It was never easy, abstaining from human blood. Moral high ground was rather weak compensation for the agony of rejecting one's base nature.

I caught him walking to the cafeteria.

Don't. He kept his eyes straight ahead as we moved through the line.

I nodded, picking items for my tray the way one might select a series of paperweights.

The students nearest our table were surprised to see both of us. The Cullens. Only after I took my seat did I realize someone was saying our name out loud. I tilted my head. Jessica Stanley, font of gossip, was explaining our presence to the new girl. Bella was lucky to have landed among her social circle. I personally found her rather insufferable, but I think this was mostly because I had unfiltered access to a bazaar of personal thoughts at all times; I didn’t need any assistance.

Currently, Jessica’s thoughts were scattered. I saw the pair of us through her eyes and grit my teeth. Flawless. Stunning. Irresistible. To her, the pale flesh and sunken eyes faded to the background; if anything, it added to the mystique. The uncanny movement was grace. The stillness was refined composure. Jessica turned back to Bella, scattering my train of thought. I flicked my eyes to my brother, who was counting down from one thousand—in Spanish this time—and frowned.

“The new girl . . .” I started. His face soured.

“What?” He thought I was going to ask about her, if she was a singer. I despised the slang. It made the whole affair sound poetic, as though giving in were in the best interest of both parties. But I had other questions in mind.

“Can you read her?”

Jasper drew his eyebrows together. “Why?”

“I’m curious.” I tried to keep my tone casual, even though I knew he could sense my interest, impatient as it was.

Why? He didn’t bother to speak aloud this time.

“I can’t. Not from here.” I tried again, tuning out the endless chatter of hundreds of students, searching for an unfamiliar voice. I heard Jasper chuckle at my frustration and shot him a glare. After a moment’s hesitation, I fixed my gaze on the girl, on the crown of her soft, brown hair, and listened.

Silence.

Like a void had opened up in the middle of the bustling cafeteria.

Without warning, she looked up, directly at me. Her eyes widened and she looked quickly away. I could see her cheeks flush from our table. I let myself smile. At least she was human.

I looked at my brother again. His rigid posture was unchanged, but his head tilted slightly to the side, like a cat inspecting a mouse.

“She’s uncomfortable. Uneasy.”

“Obviously.” I crossed my arms, tamping down on the quiet jealousy rising from my chest.

Jasper scowled. “You would know if I was lying to you.”

I elbowed him, hard enough to loosen his posture, and smiled. “Not necessarily. You’re crafty.” Bella must have seen the movement, as she looked over at our table again, lingering only a moment before returning to her conversation.

Beside me, Jasper grinned back for a split second, teeth glinting in the discolored light from above.

I let him return to his meditation and tuned back in to the Jessica Stanley show. I fussed with the stem of the waxy apple on my tray. My feigned disinterest was showier than strictly necessary, but I was feeling a bit theatrical.

“They’re not actually related. Probably.” Jessica shrugged, animating her dangling earrings. Her thoughts cycled through the regular gossip of incest and cults. She was of the opinion my mother was some kind of secret celebrity health guru who had us on special diets, thus the general “anemic model” look. I smirked. “They have a sister who’s older.”

“She’s dating Jasper,” Mike interjected. I could see Jessica’s glare in his mind as he shied away. He looked at Bella and noted her confused expression.

“The weird one?” Jessica put it so plainly I had to press my lips together to stop a laugh. I felt a sharp kick to my shin. Jasper was paying more attention than he was willing to admit.

Angela spoke next, her voice melodic in comparison to some of the others at the table. “We don’t know if they're dating. They tend to keep to themselves.”

Jessica nodded, solemn. If there was any settled law at this school, it was that the Cullens were off limits. Look but don’t touch. Bella seemed to get the message, nodding along as she picked at her food.

“Anyway, they moved back here a couple years ago. Their mom got a job at the hospital.” Jessica lowered her voice. “You have to see her. Drop-dead pretty. Like, stupid hot. I can’t believe she’s a doctor.”

Bella seemed intrigued, but distant. Angela lowered her eyes, her face a very composed sort of neutral. I tried to let her keep her thoughts private, but I couldn’t help but overhear flickers of doubt, or perhaps hope. The rest of the table found the old news boring. Eric Yorkie was chomping at the bit, desperate to ask Bella questions but afraid to scare her off.

Angela changed the subject, genuinely curious to know what classes Bella was taking. She stumbled a bit as she walked through her schedule, each of the other students watching with rapt attention, wondering what her school was like in Phoenix. I pitied her, despite myself. Though I couldn’t say I wasn’t curious. I frowned as Jessica steered the conversation to after-school clubs, stemming the flow of Bella trivia for the time being.

I contented myself knowing I would have the chance to get my fill next period.

***

I made it to Bio in one piece. Each of my morning classes had made me introduce myself to the other students, as though they a). cared or b). didn’t already know. I had to wear gym clothes from the school to participate in PE (casualties were kept to a minimum, thankfully, by Jessica's tactful approach to keeping me sidelined). I appreciated it, but the embarrassment was still stinging.

I was running late, and the entire class was seated by the time I entered the classroom. It was humid inside, the central heating no match against the pervasive damp. A tabletop fan sputtered from the front of the room. The teacher—Molina?—smiled at me.

"Isabella?"

"Just Bella." I was still standing in the doorway, frantically trying to calculate where to sit. The room was completely full, and everyone was staring at me. Everyone except for one of the Cullens Jessica pointed out at lunch. I stepped fully into the room, bracing myself for another forced introduction. Instead I got a polite gesture to take a seat. I breathed my relief and walked down the aisle.

Ahead of me, the Cullen boy went stiff. I tried to meet his eyes as I took a seat: my mistake. My stomach turned to lead. My breath stalled in my throat. In the half second it took to pull my chair out, I saw the staggering depth of resentment seeping from the pits in his face. I literally stumbled as I sat down. I heard a quiet snicker from behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I looked away and pulled out my notebook, heart racing. What the hell?

The teacher started talking, picking up mid-topic, and the frigid eyes kept boring holes in my head. Was I afraid? My body said yes—the cold sweat, the dry mouth, that's what this response was—but why? This kid was a freak. He was being a creep.

I looked over out of the corner of my eye, testing. Edward was leaning as far away from me as he possibly could while remaining in his seat. The tendons in his wrist stood out, casting shadows in the harsh fluorescent light. I didn't try to meet his gaze.

I tried to focus on the lecture, I really did, but how could I? After some amount of time, I realized he wasn't breathing. Or he was, but so shallowly I couldn't hear. I tried to surreptitiously sniff my shirt. Was the ghost of PE still haunting me? Unless he could smell shame, I thought I was okay. I let down my hair, hoping to hide behind the curtain in my peripheral vision.

He whimpered. An actual whimper, nearly inaudible, but I was sure of it. I turned on him. I didn't care if the other students were watching this. He was the one being weird.

He was frozen, staring straight ahead. Not even staring. It was like he was absent from his body. I faltered. Was he having a seizure? I glanced around the room, but no one seemed to have noticed. That, or this was normal behavior.

I waited, and waited. For him to drop dead. For laser beams to shoot out of his eyes. I don't know. But the sinking wrongness of the situation continued to lurk and writhe in me until the bell rang.

Before the sound ended, he had swept himself out of the room, leaving a vacuum behind. I didn't know how to describe the ache I felt, or why tears were pricking at my eyes. I did know that I had another class to get to.

The Universe was not content to let me suffer quietly; it insisted on rubbing salt in the wound.

I found myself back at the front office at the end of the day. I was supposed to check in and confirm I wasn't going to run screaming into the woods, or something. The tiny room was crowded with announcements and flyers for far more clubs and activities than a school this size ought to have. In front of the desk was my new nemesis: Edward Cullen. I had almost gotten to the point of thinking it was all in my head. Surely I fabricated the whole scenario to make my awkward first day more eventful. But there he was, lean and imposing, stupid, copper-colored hair looking artfully disheveled, his back to the door, and thankfully, to me.

I overheard his conversation with the administrator. It occurred to me that this was the first time I'd heard his voice. It was slick, subtle like a flytrap.

"There has to be a way."

"I'm sorry, Edward, it's simply too late in the year to change classes."

I felt like I had been slapped in the face. He couldn't possibly be talking about me. That was absurd.

"I've already taken Biology. You can check my record from my last school, it's all there." His voice was pleading. "I'll take an independent study."

The administrator peered up at him over the red rims of her glasses. She sighed. "Look, I've done everything I can. You—”

Edward straightened, startling the woman into silence.

"Fine," he snapped. "I guess it's too late."

I realized he was turning away from the desk a moment later and jumped out of the way as he glided toward the door. He didn't look at me again.

"Hun?"

The administrator was talking to me. I had been standing by the door for several seconds. Once my brain sputtered back to life, I handed her my forms and finished my exchange.

I was shaking when I got into my truck. It took two tries to get the key in the ignition, and the tears I had been holding back finally made their appearance. The little bubble I had been cradling burst. I swiped at my face and sniffed, thankful the noise of the engine muffled the pathetic sounds I was making.

#twilight renaissance #twilight rewrite #duskfic #twilight fanfic #twilight

[halothenthehorns]

How Do You Say Gods:

Chapter 23: THE PROPHECY COMES TRUE

"Didn't it already?" Alex asked, looking around to confirm she hadn't missed something as she read the new chapter title.

"Can you even go back to camp if it doesn't? Would that break some kind of contract?" Magnus chuckled.

"The major details came to pass, some take years to come to complete fruition," Will agreed while Thalia was frowning and wasn't looking at anyone. She should have known the book couldn't just end there on a happy note. It was selfish of her, but a part of her was hoping there would be no new chapter for Alex to flip to when she took the book from Magnus, that they could go back and Luke's betrayal would never need be remembered by Percy as they told him the rest of what happened without that particular detail.

She didn't know if Annabeth would have agreed to that or not though. She knew her sister honored Luke's memory more than Thalia could stomach. Percy's girlfriend felt like the better person to deliver this news, and the worst to put her through that again.

No, this was better, she wouldn't make Annabeth suffer this retelling.

We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest.

"That sentence was depressing on nearly ever level," Alex informed him.

"We shall fix this by eradicating reality-TV," Percy nodded.

According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor,

"Anyone else sort of miffed Zeus didn't do that, since it was about his item," Magnus reminded.

"As if we want his attention back on us," Will protested. "It stopped raining on the volleyball pit, let us enjoy or celebration."

  then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful-gray silk with embroidered owls-I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up.

"Ah the bonds of true love forming," Thalia chuckled. Percy looked more over the moon at her silly comment than if Artemis had thrown him herself.

Being the son of Poseidon, I didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make my shroud.

"Is it going to come to life and strangle you?" Jason asked in concern.

"They're not that creative," Percy scoffed.

They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

"You were right," Alex said tragically. All art should be cherished, but some was made to burn. She knew she'd created several clay pots, spent painstaking hours painting them, only to throw it at a wall in vengeance and feel the satisfying crash of its impact, the shards littering the floor a nice visual to how she felt at the moment and know she could do it all again even better the next time.

It was fun to burn.

"A pyro in the making," Magnus said in mock terror.

"I wouldn't make a very good one," Percy smirked at the sudden mental image of telling his mom he would grow up to be a fireman and his mom laughing, now he got why.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, I was surrounded by my old Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders.

"Wow, congrats," Jason's smile was so strained though it almost came across as demeaning. As much as he admired Grover, he almost didn't want him to go. This was the first fawn, err, satyr he'd ever thought twice about he was absolutely positive of, he didn't want to never hear of him again.

"I'd never seen him smile so much, he really deserved it," Percy said with full hearted confidence.

The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion.

"Now that's what eating Taco Bell's like," Magnus chuckled, causing Alex to snort and give him an appreciative smile. He blushed furiously but finally managed a real smile back.

Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive me for disgracing their dad.

"Not a good enemy to have against you," Jason frowned.

"I'll live," Percy rolled his eyes.

Jason still wasn't so dismissive of offending a whole cabin, nor had he forgotten like Percy seemed to there was an enemy within. What was Luke up to during all this? Had they been wrong and Saturn had someone not even mentioned yet fixing to dupe them all? Was it Chiron?

That was okay with me.

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get himself killed and now he'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday..."

I moved back into cabin three, but it didn't feel so lonely anymore. I had my friends to train with during the day. At night, I lay awake and listened to the sea, knowing my father was out there. Maybe he wasn't quite sure about me yet, maybe he hadn't even wanted me born, but he was watching. And so far, he was proud of what I'd done.

Hearth had no idea what that feeling was like, but there was something in the way Alex read that with a sneer in her lips making the unheard words drip with disdain that made the idea flicker to life in his mind he might not have to care.

Magnus was still looking at her doe-eyed, and he caught Percy giving her a tragic smile she probably missed as she didn't look up.

As for my mother, she had a chance at a new life. Her letter arrived a week after I got back to camp. She told me Gabe had left mysteriously-disappeared off the face of the planet, in fact.

"What a truly strange happenstance," Will said brightly, "I can't imagine the turmoil she's going through."

"His life insurance money will be of no comfort I'm sure," Nico softly agreed.

She'd reported him missing to the police, but she had a funny feeling they would never find him.

"Please have her take over for the Oracle," Jason snorted.

"Hard pass," but Percy laughed all the same too.

On a completely unrelated subject, she'd sold her first life-size concrete sculpture, entitled The Poker Player, to a collector, through an art gallery in Soho. She'd gotten so much money for it, she'd put a deposit down on a new apartment and made a payment on her first semester's tuition at NYU. The Soho gallery was clamoring for more of her work, which they called "a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism."

Percy wished he could bottle the laughter around him and somehow have his dad spread it through out the world as he ate his words once more. Maybe the best people out there could find their own luck, his mom deserved every penny of that.

But don't worry, my mom wrote. I'm done with sculpture. I've disposed of that box of tools you left me.

Alex licked her lips with want and was clearly detailing out a map in her head where she could go hunt down that 'box of tools' for herself. She did prefer her handmade creations personally, but having an instant-life-sized model on hand couldn't hurt...

"Not gunna lie, I am vaguely terrified what she did do with a magical snake haired head," Magnus admitted. "Like if she just buried it in the park, it could still cause a lot of damage, and there's no volcanoes around to throw it into."

"My money, she threw it into the ocean," Percy shrugged, his dad would know what to do with it, and maybe in some twisted way he'd even honor the severed monstrous head of someone he'd once loved by putting it somewhere nice.

It's time for me to turn to writing.

At the bottom, she wrote a P.S.: Percy, I've found a good private school here in the city. I've put a deposit down to hold you a spot, in case you want to enroll for seventh grade. You could live at home. But if you want to go year-round at Half-Blood Hill, I'll understand.

I folded the note carefully and set it on my bedside table. Every night before I went to sleep, I read it again, and I tried to decide how to answer her.

This surprised them all, especially Will and Thalia as they'd thought they were done with those. Percy did live with his mom, what was the hesitation?

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before,

"You mean they do the same thing every year?" Alex looked mildly disappointed in this lack of creativity now, though she'd been excited moments ago to hear the display.

"The show itself is different every time, the finally is always the same so that newbies can see it at least once and year-rounders get a sense of, normalcy," the smile on Will's face was a little strained and sad as he wondered if Luke had watched them with any regret, if he'd cared that would be the last time he'd ever see such a thing. If he'd watched Annabeth from a distance and at all reconsidered what he was about to do.

the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

Nico had never seen such a thing, and a little bubble of regret blossomed in his chest at how forlorn Will still looked. The guy had been so weirdly nice to him, but he had nothing at all to say back now when he needed it. "I've never heard the Spartan story," Nico spontaneously said, "do they only do that in July?" It was the dead of December up top you idiot, he scolded himself, nobody would want to sit around in the cold to watch-

"They'll blow up anything whatever time of year is asked of them," Will perked up at once as he gave him the most inviting smile. "I'm sure they'd even love to do a new holiday theme plus that one."

Nico found himself smiling back at his enthusiasm, feeling oddly pleased with himself he'd done something right.

As Annabeth and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know."

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend.

Percy ran his fingers over his necklace again with a smile. He'd made other friends, that was obvious by Thalia, Will, and Nico alone, but it was nice to know this was still true and real. Grover was still out there somewhere, maybe still looking for Pan, but his first, oldest, and best friend was probably searching for him too.

Annabeth gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on.

I asked him where he was going to search first.

"Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..."

"We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

"The best friends are one part concern and one part sarcasm," Will agreed cheerfully.

"Or both at once if you do it right," Percy nodded.

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway-nothing like the little runty boy I used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

"I'm not saying we should test that theory with peanut-butter and ketchup sandwiches, but I am saying he should still avoid them," Alex splayed her hands in a, just saying, kind of way nobody was going to disagree with.

"Well," he said, "wish me luck."

He gave Annabeth another hug. He clapped me on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware.

"You guys still somehow make me question everything, even reality," Magnus muttered again, but at least he'd stopped doing double takes at this kind of deceleration. Progress.

"Hey, Grover," I called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going-I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Annabeth said.

I tried to believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years ... well, I decided not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

July passed.

Everybody was starting to shift with such restless unease, Percy fought off the urge to ask if there were underwater ants in their pants. For once he and Nico exchanged a mystified look of what could be coming, as nobody had ever warned him how exactly Luke had left camp when he'd been outed. Not that he'd ever stuck around long enough to ask too, he acknowledged to himself his own lapse for the first time as Will kept twitching, opening and closing his mouth with a truly uneasy expression. Will clearly wanted to warn Percy about something, and maybe if Nico hadn't been shutting him out so much lately Will would have shared with him already if he'd a mind to ask. It was to late to do so now.

I spent my days devising new strategies for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava.

From time to time, I'd walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle. I tried to convince myself that its prophecy had come to completion.

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

Been there, done that, even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades.

"Which I notice we never got to hear any retribution about," Alex huffed.

"Nothing could really be done about it except Zeus telling him not to do it again, considering," Thalia sighed it seemed a no win situation there, with him not acknowledging Kronos's influence and Ares just causing a little rebellion and then things settling back down like they probably did every decade or so for those Olympians.

You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned.

Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades's oily head.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

This line still bothered me. Ares had pretended to be my friend, then betrayed me. That must be what the Oracle meant...

And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

I had failed to save my mom, but only because I'd let her save herself, and I knew that was the right thing.

So why was I still uneasy?

Percy's mouth was starting to go dry, he was looking around at all of them and flexing his hand again with a huge sense that he was missing something.

Nobody else was verbalizing the obvious, what was Luke waiting on? If it even was him and some other double cross was coming, but those words rang true, not many people left had called Percy a friend to do this that had also been tied into that pit, almost literally...

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

I got my own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer, I was glad the firelight covered my blushing. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced.

Alex was skilled enough not to let any wavering of confidence show in her voice as Percy kept studying her, but nobody else could have managed it at that moment as they waited for the other shoe to drop. Was Luke going to stab him in front of a whole crowd?

"This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand.

Percy raised a very disbelieving brow and laughed into the awkward silence. He hated awkward silence and was really starting to get frustrated with the way nobody would look at him, or each other.

Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause.

Percy began applauding too, mostly because she deserved it, but also just to see them roll their eyes at him again. When Alex still kept reading he was getting downright annoyed. He'd just spent a whole book being lied to, why was everyone suddenly in the know of what he wasn't?!

His temple throbbed an angry beat, one he hadn't had to feel in a few hours now as he hadn't strained to remember anything in the heat of all those battles. It was back full swing now as a spot in his back tingled.

I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year.

The next morning, I found a form letter on my bedside table.

I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong:

Dear_ Peter Johnson_ ,

If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers.

"You think him and Chiron have a running bet on how many children they eat?" Alex mock whispered.

"I'm not asking him," Magnus protested.

All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit.

Have a nice day!

Mr. D (Dionysus)

Camp Director, Olympian Council #12

That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face.

Jason looked appalled at him, but then, he had no sense of the word home to relate to any of this really.

Summer was over, and I still hadn't answered my mother, or the camp, about whether I'd be staying.

Now I had only a few hours to decide.

"What's the choice exactly?" Thalia asked.

"My mom," Percy answered simply enough, but it was more complicated than he was explaining. He was happy enough to keep the majority to himself, if the book didn't.

The decision should have been easy. I mean, nine months of hero training or nine months of sitting in a classroom-duh.

"Classroom, du," Magnus said at the same time as Jason scoffed, "um, hero training."

The two side eyed each other while Alex hid her laugh behind the book.

But there was my mom to consider. For the first time, I had the chance to live with her for a whole year, without Gabe. I had a chance be at home and knock around the city in my free time. I remembered what Annabeth had said so long ago on our quest: The real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not.

'He survived plenty before,' Hearth frowned.

'Didn't you guys say knowledge attracted them even more,' Magnus answered.

'Awe, you have been paying attention,' Hearth approved.

I thought about the fate of Thalia, daughter of Zeus. I wondered how many monsters would attack me if I left Half-Blood Hill. If I stayed in one place for a whole school year, without Chiron or my friends around to help me, would my mother and I even survive until the next summer? That was assuming the spelling tests and five-paragraph essays didn't kill me.

It was not a conundrum any of them had ever had to consider before, and the idea Percy could have both didn't seem any more real to him than dead lines.

I decided I'd go down to the arena and do some sword practice. Maybe that would clear my head.

"It did hyper focus your senses last time," Jason approved.

Will wondered how good of an omen it was he was the only one here who wasn't nodding along and instead thought Percy should have asked a friend for advice. Annabeth had started going home for that summer too after all, and might have been wanting someone to talk to about it, like the guy who put the idea in her head.

The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport.

Don't think about leaving yet, I told myself. Just train.

I got to the sword-fighters arena and found that Luke had had the same idea. His gym bag was plopped at the edge of the stage. He was working solo, whaling on battle dummies with a sword I'd never seen before. It must've been a regular steel blade,

This silly little comment was something that had never occurred to some of them before, that Percy's magical sword wouldn't affect normal things, or basically anything other than monsters. Yet he'd cut through the metal cages of those animals just fine with it, so the distinction this time was odd.

because he was slashing the dummies' heads right off, stabbing through their straw-stuffed guts. His orange counselor's shirt was dripping with sweat. His expression was so intense, his life might've really been in danger. 

Thalia was starting to represent a really concerning replica of that in here for some reason. She knew what was coming, wished she could shout it in his face, but all she could do was sit here and watch.

I watched, fascinated, as he disemboweled the whole row of dummies, hacking off limbs and basically reducing them to a pile of straw and armor.

They were only dummies, but I still couldn't help being awed by Luke's skill.

Will wondered if Hermes had ever said anything to him about that. He didn't know Luke very well, they'd known each other for years but never spent much quality time together, so he wasn't sure what his exact grievance with his dad was, but maybe it would have helped for Luke to here this from his father. The others would probably just laugh at him for still trying to think up solutions to this so long after the fact.

The guy was an incredible fighter. It made me wonder, again, how he possibly could've failed at his quest.

"Did he fail at it?" Jason asked in surprise. He, unlike Percy, easily recalled details without getting his head tormented, and he'd been going back over every detail Luke had given. "It was said he got that scar, and no more quests afterwards, but he didn't flat fail, did he?" Then again, details had never been given of it either. Just that things had gone sour and none after.

Nobody answered, and it wasn't just for Percy's sake this time. Will and many campers had wondered if Chiron had been pressured by the gods to limit quests as much as possible after the Great Prophecy. Not that campers had gone up to the Oracle for every little thing, but Luke had gotten an apple as requested and yet it seemed only life saving events were allowed out rather than a hero's chance to prove themselves on an excursion as Annabeth had so wanted.

Thalia was personally grateful for this, she disliked the idea of her little sister setting off on her own quest without her around, but she'd just heard the whole thing and knew Annabeth was fully capable of it, so she wasn't even sure she could blame it on Chiron being particularly protective of her over the other campers and deterring all of them.

Finally, he saw me, and stopped mid-swing. "Percy."

"Um, sorry," I said, embarrassed. "I just-"

"It's okay," he said, lowering his sword. "Just doing some last-minute practice."

"Those dummies won't be bothering anybody any-more."

"A major issue to be resolved," Jason uneasily agreed, but he didn't mean the dummies. The dwindling number of pages indicated they were about to get an answer, or just more questions.

Luke shrugged. "We build new ones every summer."

Now that his sword wasn't swirling around, I could see something odd about it. The blade was two different types of metal, one edge bronze, the other steel.

"Sounds unique," Alex admired the dual metals being twined together quite a bit.

Luke noticed me looking at it. "Oh, this? New toy. This is Backbiter."

"Backbiter?"

Luke turned the blade in the light so it glinted wickedly.

'Interesting choice of words,' Hearth frowned, considering their current suspicions of him. There was nothing inherently wrong with this conversation of course, especially considering the quest was a failure by Krono's standards, so perhaps they'd been wrong. Luke would hardly be rewarded with a new weapon by the thing in the pit.

"One side is celestial bronze. The other is tempered steel. Works on mortals and immortals both."

I thought about what Chiron had told me when I started my quest-that a hero should never harm mortals unless absolutely necessary.

"I didn't know they could make weapons like that."

"They probably can't," Luke agreed. "It's one of a kind."

Percy was starting to feel an unpleasant tingling tracing along his spine. He remembered Luke being distant since he'd gotten back from his quest, so it should have just been nice to have his first friend around that camp being so casual with him.

He gave me a tiny smile, then slid the sword into its scabbard. "Listen, I was going to come looking for you. What do you say we go down to the woods one last time, look for something to fight?"

I don't know why I hesitated. I should've felt relieved that Luke was being so friendly. Ever since I'd gotten back from the quest, he'd been acting a little distant. I was afraid he might resent me for all the attention I'd gotten.

"Luke never struck me as the kind to resent not to get attention," Jason murmured in surprise. "He seemed more chill, laid back." His mind was trying to flicker to someone else, he had a sense there was someone he should know who craved more power than he had and pretended otherwise, but the idea wouldn't solidify even as he watched Will give an uneasy laugh like he'd said something funny.

"You think it's a good idea?" I asked. "I mean-"

"Aw, come on." He rummaged in his gym bag and pulled out a six-pack of Cokes. "Drinks are on me."

I stared at the Cokes, wondering where the heck he'd gotten them. There were no regular mortal sodas at the camp store. No way to smuggle them in unless you talked to a satyr, maybe.

Of course, the magic dinner goblets would fill with anything you want, but it just didn't taste the same as a real Coke, straight out of the can.

"Thank you," Nico gave a very exaggerated wave to Percy. "I can't tell you how many people argue with me fountain sodas taste different than canned ones, and the ones from dinner are certainly from a fountain."

"Um, you're welcome," Percy grinned at possibly the most lighthearted comment he'd yet seen Nico make.

"Who do you have these arguments with?" Will asked in fascination.

"Castor and Pollux," he answered quietly, he'd gotten on with the twins alright, until Castor's passing, and then Pollux hadn't anything to do with him. Like many after the Battle of the Labyrinth, they seemed to associate him being around with their dead siblings. Things had gone slightly better in the wake of the Battle of Manhattan, but his heralding of reinforcements had just as quickly lost its redeemability soon after his cabin had finished construction.

Will still had a displeased look on his face, like he was trying to figure out if that was the last conversation he'd had with anybody at camp before being plopped in here, and rather than admit that was sort of true, Nico was already regretting letting his excitement get the better of him and waving Alex on.

Sugar and caffeine. My willpower crumbled.

"I can't imagine anyone's who wouldn't," Magnus grinned like a fiend, he'd been chugging them in here and was starting to feel a little wired. Maybe he'd regret splurging later when he was cut off from such delicacies again, but for now he would indulge!

"Sure," I decided. "Why not?"

'I have several reasons,' Thalia kept to herself, she was twitching so much in place Percy couldn't not notice considering she was usually very still and confident in the outcome of all this. If he was being paranoid, twice, than at least he wasn't the only one.

We walked down to the woods and kicked around for some kind of monster to fight, but it was too hot. All the monsters with any sense must've been taking siestas in their nice cool caves.

Convenient, the idea nagged in Will's mind. He didn't know how it was possible Luke would have managed this, but he knew what had transpired out there thanks to tree nymph gossip. He'd been mad at the time only Chiron had permitted himself to treat Percy's wound, now here he was feeling like a selfish brat as he sat on the other side and wanting more than anything to appear back in time and drag Percy away from this while giving Luke a good whack upside the head on his way out even knowing Percy would be fine.

We found a shady spot by the creek where I'd broken Clarisse's spear during my first capture the flag game. We sat on a big rock, drank our Cokes, and watched the sunlight in the woods.

After a while Luke said, "You miss being on a quest?"

"With monsters attacking me every three feet? Are you kidding?"

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I miss it," I admitted. "You?"

Percy wondered what it said about every one of them nobody protested or even questioned this. Not one of them were wired to just sit around doing nothing as this forced reading had set them upon, and interacting with each other was the only thing stopping them from going nuts.

A shadow passed over his face.

I was used to hearing from the girls how good-looking Luke was, but at the moment, he looked weary, and angry, and not at all handsome. His blond hair was gray in the sunlight. The scar on his face looked deeper than usual. I could imagine him as an old man.

Nico arched a brow for that lovely moment of foreshadowing, not Luke's kind passage of sleep in death, but what exactly would kill him was time itself. The three old ladies came back to mind, and he had a feeling their snippet of yarn had just echoed into this moment.

"I've lived at Half-Blood Hill year-round since I was fourteen," he told me. "Ever since Thalia ... well, you know. I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got to be a normal teenager, out there in the real world. Then they threw me one quest, and when I came back, it was like, 'Okay, ride's over. Have a nice life.'"

Percy wondered if he was supposed to laugh, that Luke wanted to sit around doing homework and dealing with crappy kids in fancy boarding schools, watch them mess around on their new phones and whine they didn't have the latest this and that to each other. He'd never felt accepted while being a normal teenager in the real world by anyone but Grover.

His quest hadn't made his life perfect by any means, he still wasn't sure how he felt about his father or visa versa, he still wasn't sure the Gods knew what they were doing or what was coming. He felt a little bad now he wasn't sure what Luke was wanting exactly, that Percy seemed to have gotten Luke hadn't.

He crumpled his Coke can and threw into the creek, which really shocked me. One of the first things you learn at Camp Half-Blood is: Don't litter. You'll hear from the nymphs and the naiads. They'll get even. You'll crawl into bed one night and find your sheets filled with centipedes and mud.

Thalia's eyes burned for a moment at the traitorous idea that first sprung to mind. That Luke had been ordered to do what was coming, that he was trying to get the nymphs attention and maybe, just maybe save Percy's life...but no. That was just an old weakness still lingering in her, Annabeth whispering maybe Luke could still be saved before she'd gone over that cliff and found everyone was dispensable in Luke's quest.

Alex snorted impressively for such a ballsy thing to do, then exchanged a look with Magnus just to confirm she wasn't nuts, that was a really odd thing to do for someone who'd been living at camp so long...almost as if he had no plans to stay.

He looked just as grim as she felt, and their suspicion was now all but confirmed.

"The heck with laurel wreaths," Luke said. "I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

"You make it sound like you're leaving."

Luke gave me a twisted smile. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say goodbye."

He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.

"Is that a common thing you guys can do!" Jason spluttered.

"Spontaneously turn evil? I like to think not," Will sighed while Percy had drawn his pen but remained frozen in place, eyes staring at nothing in here as he was forced to see the reality all of them had been surrounded with for far to long.

I started to go for my pen.

"I wouldn't," Luke cautioned. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"Luke, what-"

Then it hit me.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

Alex felt a pit in her stomach the same Percy must be feeling now as she understood completely. It wasn't retroactively coming true, it had been true all along, since the moment Luke had given Percy those flying shoes. Luke was no unwitting pawn, he was the other voice in that dream, he was the mastermind behind it all.

"You," I said.

He stood calmly and brushed off his jeans.

The scorpion paid him no attention. It kept its beady black eyes on me, clamping its pincers as it crawled onto my shoe.

"I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy," Luke said. "Didn't you feel it-the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics-being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us halfbloods."

Magnus couldn't even give this guy the benefit of the doubt anymore, who could be expected to over come a controlling voice a god hadn't? Yet here were his own words saying the thoughts had been in his mind since his own outing, he must have been the one to seek out Kronos himself for his own purposes.

I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Luke ... you're talking about our parents," I said.

He laughed. "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

In their darkest moments traveling the streets, Thalia had said something similar as she looked around at all of the mortals suffering, their powerful gods doing nothing to stop it in the corrupt system.

Yet Thalia had looked into the face of that future and turned away. She wished more than anything she could have been there for Luke to help him do the same before it was to late, it would be so easy to turn bitter and hate Zeus for trapping her in a tree rather than saving her.

This would be her outcome. She would not turn against Artemis or her friends.

"You're as crazy as Ares."

His eyes flared. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

'No plan they come up with goes off very well with this guy, huh?' Hearth noted.

The scorpion crawled onto my pants leg.

There had to be a way out of this. I needed time to think.

"Kronos," I said. "That's who you serve."

The air got colder.

"You should be careful with names," Luke warned.

"Nobody has yet followed that advice," Alex rolled her eyes.

"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams."

Luke's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Percy. You should've listened."

"He's brainwashing you, Luke."

"You're wrong. He showed me that my talents are being wasted. You know what my quest was two years ago, Percy? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done, that was the best he could think up."

"That's not an easy quest," I said. "Hercules did it."

"Exactly," Luke said. "Where's the glory in repeating what others have done? 

"Anything can be improved upon," Alex debated back. She would love to do something better than Hercules had, she'd already vowed in her life to be known as a child of Loki because she would be nothing like her mother.

All the gods know how to do is replay their past. My heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden gave me this"-he pointed angrily at his scar-"and when I came back, all I got was pity. I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to steal something worthwhile, something no hero had ever had the courage to take.

Will was taking all of this in with quiet outrage at Kronos for exacerbating this, and himself. He'd still been wondering if he'd missed some clue, if there'd been some sign of change they should have seen coming. He, like everyone at camp, had looked up to Luke, one of his little sisters had cried herself to sleep that night when she found out why Luke left.

Hearing why he'd done it in his own words wasn't making this better, but at least he finally understood.

When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus's master bolt right from his chair. Hades's helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

The scorpion was sitting on my knee now, staring at me with its glittering eyes. I tried to keep my voice level. "So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"

Luke's smile wavered. "I ... I got overconfident. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt- Artemis, Apollo, my father, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have beaten him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos's voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence." Luke drew his new sword. He ran his thumb down the flat of the blade, as if he were hypnotized by its beauty. "Afterward, the Lord of the Titans ... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way-from Ares down to Tartarus."

"You summoned the hellhound, that night in the forest."

"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for you, so he would start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."

"The flying shoes were cursed," I said. "They were supposed to drag me and the backpack into Tartarus."

"And they would have, if you'd been wearing them. But you gave them to the satyr, which wasn't part of the plan. Grover messes up everything he touches. He even confused the curse."

Percy longed to take that coke can and smack Luke in the head with it now. He wouldn't have come back from that quest without Grover, nobody disrespected his best friend like that!

"Who knew the gods petty fighting would ever save someone's life," Nico shrugged, that whole not going into domains thing had been foolish before, and yet Luke had apparently not thought about it at all.

"What did Grover even do to him to deserve that?" Will said hotly. "Does he just hate all satyr's now, or does he blame him for Thalia's death too?"

"He clearly only cares about himself," Thalia said bitterly, and he'd used her sacrifice to excuse it all.

Luke looked down at the scorpion, which was now sitting on my thigh. "You should have died in Tartarus, Percy. But don't worry, I'll leave you with my little friend to set things right."

"Thalia gave her life to save you," I said, gritting my teeth. "And this is how you repay her?"

Percy dragged his eyes away from the book now, realizing how much this betrayal must hurt her even more than him. She looked like she couldn't decide if she wanted to repay this back by throwing Luke into an electric fence or hugging him, the twisted look on her face made this go up to the highest treason in Percy's mind. He put his hand gently on her shoulder like she'd done for him countless times already and said, "I'm sorry."

Thalia took a deep breath and felt the weight drift off of her. "Thanks Percy. He made his choice, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for him, but who knows. Maybe it wouldn't have ever made a difference, I'd still do it all again and save his life. Maybe that makes this my fault, but, maybe it's just the fates will."

She didn't care who hated and judged her for that, she never could have survived so long on her own without him, they never would have gotten Annabeth to camp without each other.

"Don't speak of Thalia!" he shouted. "The gods let her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."

Nico sighed, moments like that made him understand why people hated his father, and him. The gods could not save every child of theirs anymore than they could stop time itself moving, to interfere in every death would create chaos and was a force beyond even them. He didn't hate Hades for Bianca's death, he didn't hate anybody for it anymore, he just felt alone with it.

"You're being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."

"I've been used?" Luke's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest-the ones who serve him."

Alex would sooner give up her pottery for life than serve anyone, especially such an idiotic idea.

"Call off the bug," I said. "If you're so strong, fight me yourself."

Luke smiled. "Nice try, Percy. But I'm not Ares. You can't bait me. My lord is waiting, and he's got plenty of quests for me to undertake."

Jason still thought this guy sounded far to much like he had no idea what he was really getting into. Saturn was just telling Luke what he wanted to hear. Everybody wanted to be a great hero, but it didn't mean everyone was destined to be.

"Luke-"

"Good-bye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it."

He slashed his sword in an arc and disappeared in a ripple of darkness.

The scorpion lunged.

I swatted it away with my hand and uncapped my sword. The thing jumped at me and I cut it in half in midair.

Jason gave an impressive whistle for that skill while Alex began to smirk and almost considered congratulating him for the same before they saw Percy was still rubbing his thumb into his palm, Thalia and Will still looked very put out.

Percy had not made another casual stroll back into camp to announce the traitor.

I was about to congratulate myself until I looked down at my hand. My palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck. The thing had gotten me after all.

Nico was having trouble believing Alex wasn't just making that up. Percy had made a couple of minor mishaps along his quest, but he'd never let a monster get the better of him, he'd even made the right call knowing when to run from the chimera. Here it was though in absolute proof. Percy couldn't just do anything.

My ears pounded. My vision went foggy. The water, I thought. It healed me before.

I stumbled to the creek and submerged my hand, but nothing seemed to happen. The poison was too strong.

Will shivered at that. He knew Percy had healed from an explosion thanks to the ocean. He hoped whatever kind of scorpion had done this would stay in the pit with Kronos and never come back.

"This thing is worse than Chimera venom?" Magnus asked in a small voice. Percy obviously didn't die, but who knew he'd rather have that monstrosity around than a tiny little arachnid.

"It must be spreading to fast for even the river to heal him, the ocean maybe could have," Thalia explained slowly, but then stopped herself with a shiver as the possibility still hung.

My vision was getting dark. I could barely stand up.

Sixty seconds, Luke had told me.

Nico swallowed and shook the ugly red numbers ticking down out of his mind. Percy had survived just fine.

I had to get back to camp. If I collapsed out here, my body would be dinner for a monster. Nobody would ever know what had happened.

Thalia winced for that all to familiar worry she'd had for Percy before being dumped in here. How Luke could ever claim to still care about Annabeth after doing that to her she'd never understand.

My legs felt like lead. My forehead was burning. I stumbled toward the camp, and the nymphs stirred from their trees.

"Help," I croaked. "Please ..."

Two of them took my arms, pulling me along. I remember making it to the clearing, a counselor shouting for help, a centaur blowing a conch horn.

"That had to have taken longer than sixty seconds," Jason stated like he was still waiting for the trick.

"The nymphs carried him right through their tree, it's no normal distance for them the way we walk," Will told, resisting the urge to wave at Nico. Nobody had asked him what shadow traveling was, but it was similar to that.

Then everything went black.

"And then I woke up in the hospital with Smell Gabe yelling at nurses and my mom relieved to see me awake because it was all a dream," Alex claimed, looking up and doing a dramatic double take to see Percy in front of her.

"After all the weird dreams I had, I wouldn't even be surprised if someone tried to mess with me like that too," Percy managed a weak laugh while still rubbing his thumb into his palm.

I woke with a drinking straw in my mouth. I was sipping something that tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies. Nectar.

Alex still huffed Percy had now gotten to try that stuff twice, and Magnus was eyeing the floor with concern no scorpions were going to pop out of there as much as she was muttering about them.

I opened my eyes.

I was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, my right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead.

"Here we are again," I said.

"You do realize this now has to happen twice every time you come to camp, otherwise she'll lose interest," Magnus grinned.

"Up the stakes even, make it three times a summer, four times a year," Jason nodded.

"We might run out of nectar and ambrosia," Will played along, "maybe eventually we just keep a fish tank in cabin three and if he doesn't heal from that-"

"I take it back, I'm drowning you all now," Percy groaned, swirling his hands around like a magician.

Thalia smacked his hands away and told Alex to hurry up and finish since they were almost done while Nico smiled around at them all. He'd never spent so much time in the company of others and just enjoyed hearing the laughter around him without any expectations to join in.

"You idiot," Annabeth said, which is how I knew she was overjoyed to see me conscious.

"Actually she calls you an idiot in her sleep to," Thalia smirked.

"All the better, she's always thinking of me," Percy grinned.

"You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing ..."

"Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit."

He was sitting near the foot of my bed in human form, which was why I hadn't noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"And everybody knows microwaved food is never comparable to the real thing," Alex tragically agreed. "You might never be the same again."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Between sips of nectar, I told them the story.

"It's to bad Luke didn't try the same trick twice and slip back into camp," Alex spat with her own venom. "Would have been so much easier to catch him pretending be innocent again."

"Hopefully this at least puts a crimp in Kronos's plans, since Percy wasn't supposed to be alive to tell them this regardless of where he was," Magnus offered.

The room was quiet for a long time.

"I can't believe that Luke ..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy's once poisoned hand wasn't the reason it was still twitching. He wished he could hold her close now like he'd never have the notion to back then, but he had nothing he could say to her now. Quests seem to bring out the best in some, and the worst in others, and he'd never really known Luke as anything but a backstabber.

Thalia didn't have anything much kinder to say. She and Annabeth didn't talk about this as much as they should have. She knew Annabeth had always wished Luke would come back to the right side and snap out of it before it was to late, where as Thalia had never let herself hope for the same. Now that he was gone, they still couldn't even agree on what to call his fate, a hero's death, or just rewards.

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once."

"Luke is out there right now," I said. "I have to go after him."

Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods-"

"Won't even talk about Kronos," I snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!"

"Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready."

I didn't like it, but part of me suspected Chiron was right. One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn't going to be sword fighting any time soon.

"That's when long range weapons come in handy," Jason said with far to much confidence.

"Not everyone can throw around lightning bolts," Percy gestured to Thalia, "and I don't think chucking a tin can will work as well on him."

Magnus leaned close and whispered to Alex, "makes you wonder why these guys don't have guns around."

She snickered in agreement while Will said, "now I'm just imagining you throwing bubbles at him, thank you."

"You guys are hopeless," Percy sighed.

"Chiron ... your prophecy from the Oracle ... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? And Annabeth?"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place-"

"You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you ..."

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"Well at least Chiron doesn't have to report anything, since Zeus is apparently still listening in," Nico was frowning up at the ceiling and beginning to wonder why they weren't all struck down already.

"That guy needs to pick a better reality TV show than us," Will agreed.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

"Chiron officially has the worst boss ever, and that's really saying something when someone had Gabe as a manager," Percy scowled.

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," I said.

"We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled.

"Kronos wants him dead," Jason corrected like anyone could have forgotten that in the page since his last attempt.

"My thoughts would be pretty unraveled if I was," he shrugged.

He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long."

Chiron put his hand on my ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice..." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me.

Thalia smiled for their favorite teacher, the one who always knew when to let them fall a few times and make their own choice. What Luke seemed to hate about his own father, Chiron was no more perfect. If he'd forced Percy to stay at camp, Percy might have hated him for it in the end. Might never have met Tyson, the whole outcome could have changed.

"But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there could be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.

"What's Zeus going to do, strike him down?" Alex challenged. "Bad enough the lord of the sky's buried his head in the sand, he can't stop other people from speaking their mind."

"I think he did it for his own reasons as well," Will kindly reminded, "prophecy's are no joke, and if he starts answering questions, Percy might start springing more on him he's not ready for."

She huffed and glared down at the satchel, and Percy suddenly had a really horrible idea of what all could be in there.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear ... whenever you're ready, they're here."

"Who's here?" I asked.

Nobody answered.

"I might not protest to much at that striking thing though," Percy huffed. He still couldn't ever be told a simple answer.

Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time.

Annabeth studied the ice in my drink.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Nothing." She set the glass on the table. "I ... just took your advice about something.

"That sentence is what is wrong," Thalia smirked. "Annabeth's doomed, what did you get her into?"

"Something I'm sure I can get her out of?" He didn't sound that confident.

You ... um ... need anything?"

"Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Percy, that isn't a good idea."

I slid my legs out of bed. Annabeth caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

Annabeth said, "I told you ..."

"I'm fine," I insisted. I didn't want to lie in bed like an invalid while Luke was out there planning to destroy the Western world.

'Oh, well as long as it's only one fourth of the world, I'm sure he can have a lie in,' Hearth frowned.

'I'm curious what the escalation is there? Half? Three-fourths?' Thalia asked.

'Total antihalation, then he needs to get off his butt,' Hearth rolled his eyes.

"Do I want to know what they said?" Percy was frowning at Thalia's hands in a whole new way as he realized she could now talk behind his back in two languages. Surely there couldn't be anything worse than Luke's betrayal on the horizon?

"Nah, Hearth's just saying he'd sleep through the end of the world," Magnus shrugged.

I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Annabeth. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.

By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.

It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.

"What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked me.

"I don't know."

I told her I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I wasn't sure that's what I wanted. I admitted I'd feel bad about leaving her alone, though, with only Clarisse for company...

"She's put up with it for years, I'm sure they have secret tea parties all the time," Alex didn't look anymore pleased at the idea though. Something about the Ares cabin would have to be done before she'd consider staying there for any length of time, she just wasn't sure what yet.

Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy."

Percy gave a tentative smile, he wanted to be excited and happy for her, but he still wasn't sure if she'd kept that ring for hope, or a reminder not to go back. It had still been on her necklace at the time, but she hadn't been fidgeting with it. She'd made up her mind, and all he could do was hope the best for her.

I stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?"

She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted-two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair.

They'd come all the way out from their home to pick her up at Camp rather than waiting for her to come to them, the anticipation of not wanting to wait must be a good sign, they all hoped for her, especially Magnus. Even if he could never have any part of his family back, he still wished the best for his cousin.

They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver.

"I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him ... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided ... we'd give it another try."

"That took guts."

"A child of wisdom who also has that kind of nerve, she's a dangerous combination," Jason agreed. She was as strange to him as Grover if he thought about her to long, but in the best way, he was happy if whatever memories he should have about her were being proven wrong time and again.

She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you?

"Define stupid?" Percy said innocently.

"Walking through a door with you," Thalia snorted.

At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message?"

I managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"That wasn't as comforting as you seemed to think it was," Will frowned at him, considering that trouble usually found its way to camp.

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

"You two make the best team," Magnus approved.

"Thanks," Percy agreed.

"Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. I shook it.

"Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told me. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

I watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world.

For the first time at camp, I felt truly alone.

Nico twisted the ring upon his hand and found himself gazing at Percy. No shame, no longing, just taking in another moment where they'd been so similar, and yet so different. Percy was never really alone, where as if he'd gone mysteriously missing he doubted anyone would even notice.

I looked out at Long Island Sound and I remembered my father saying, The sea does not like to be restrained.

I made my decision.

I wondered, if Poseidon were watching, would he approve of my choice?

"Considering who I'm talking to, I can't imagine he'd disapprove of it," Will gave Percy a little wink. Poseidon could have cut himself off from the mortal world entirely to stop temptation of meeting anyone else and stopping the broken promise, but he'd still courted Sally. He couldn't imagine any of the gods begrudging their children something they so happily did again and again no matter the consequences.

"I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then. After all, I am your son." I asked Argus to take me down to cabin three, so I could pack my bags for home.

Alex sighed as she closed the book and looked around.

The others were stretching and looking around, waiting for the Titan to appear and release them, or even to find themselves back in the mortal world above. Will was watching Nico again with that same stubborn frown on his lip he had since that Hotel had been mentioned and had even asked for a break before they got to the end.

She decided not to leave them in suspense this wasn't the end by a long shot for one very specific reason, if she would even be joining them tomorrow.

"You guys should know," she finally kicked the satchel and let the other books spill out in a rainbow of colors. The other thirteen flashing up at them like a kaleidoscope made their stomachs plummet deeper than the ocean could possibly ever go. That wasn't what she'd been about to inform them. "I'm genderfluid, and we're clearly not getting out of this mess any time soon, so if I wake up tomorrow and tell you to call me by my male pronouns, are we going to have a problem?"

She was confrontational like that, eyeing Thalia in particular as the other person who struck her for someone who would not lightly avoid the subject if she did. At least she'd perceived Percy as a friendly enough doofus; he'd just get it wrong by accident and she'd ignore him until he figured it out. None of the others had pegged her as someone she'd need to deal with.

Thalia smiled and didn't bat an eye. "Hey, I used to be stuck as a tree, who am I to judge if you don't want to be trapped."

Magnus looked like he'd swallowed a watermelon and raised his hand, opened his mouth, then closed and lowered them both with a very confused look all without ever removing his eyes from Alex.

"Does that mean, like- what does that mean?" Nico mercifully asked for him as he eyed her.

"Exactly what I said, it varies per person so I'm not answering for the whole community. All I'm asking for is the same respect I've been giving all of you while we're trapped down here, as nobody's asked me to call them by any other preferred persona." Alex crossed her arms and answered him casually, she had no problems explaining, but despite what she'd told herself, she knew boredom and curiosity would compel her to come back in here. The first person who disrespected her would find out if that godly food could regrow limbs as she created her own emergency.

"Okay," Nico drew the word out in confusion but decided against arguing the point that made zero sense. Things had changed a lot since the 1930's, he was still getting used to the idea it was acceptable to be in love with someone the same gender as you. His eyes flickered to Percy and back to the ground, he still felt like a freak of nature for it before he reminded himself it didn't matter and Percy would never give him the time of day. He sure wasn't going to make anyone else feel this miserable if all they were asking for was a sir or mam.

Percy was rubbing his eyes blearily like her bright outfit was finally getting to him as he rapidly tried to adjust to the odd request, but he'd beaten up his fair share of students who picked on a kid for any reason and certainly wasn't going to be one to start acting like a hypocrite now. "I'll call you whatever you like if I can have a nap first." He waved casually and went to bed.

Will was tugging on Nico's jacket and smiling around at everyone. "Who wants to come with me and see how many things we can ask the fridge for at once! Maybe it'll give us barbeque ice-cream!" He wondered vaguely if he should give Alex the 'gods fall in love with souls, not bodies,' speech Michael had once given him, but Thalia was giving her a loaded look and he knew how to take a hint.

Nico looked more than relieved to get away from this room and went out, he didn't even snatch his arm out from under Will but instead felt an odd cold spot when his hand naturally fell off as he began walking.

"Eww," Jason told him as he went out with them, but made sure Alex caught his smile as he left. He didn't remember any predisposition for whatever she was describing, but his first instinct was to make sure everyone felt comfortable. 'A good leader knows their troops better than themselves.' He frowned at the odd thought and hoped he wasn't starting to get an inflated ego.

Magnus finally dragged his eyes away and gave a silent question to Hearthstone, which he answered as they left too. 

Thalia gestured for her to sit back down and added, "wanted to talk to you about something."

Alex sat down on the ground and began stacking the books, leaving three out with a frown.

Thalia kept going as she hadn't been told to shut up. "So the Hunters of Artemis, well, we're a group of eternal maidens who travel together, but it is a no boy's club. I personally think you would make a great asset to our team, I'm sure our patron would be interested in part time membership for your case."

Alex was still watching where Magnus had left and was already shaking her head. "That's not the part I'd have issue with."

Then she showed her not really problem to Thalia, the pattern was easy enough to discern, she was just giving him some distance and scolding herself for letting Loki get in her head even down here. Those looks had meant nothing and she was over thinking it. "Those gods need an organizer, which are we supposed to read next?"

PJOPJOPJOPJO

One down, thirteen to go!

That sentence sounded a lot less daunting before I typed it!

I'm really glad you've all been enjoying so much, and I'm looking forward to the next book just as much! Look for its posting sometime in December!

Which one are you looking forward to most?

Like I said in the beginning, this book was my stumble-into fanfiction dot net so many years ago. Even before this series, I was inserting myself into the plot of my most beloved stories and altering the outcomes to happiness with my magical world solving talents like the prepubescent Mary Sue I thought I could be, I just never wrote it down before.

This series is no exception, but this book in particular didn't have much for me to mess with. The plot's no mystery like I grew up being more fond of and so it's not one I've gone back to re-read as many times as some books, but the humor is what keeps RR in my radar of new books to binge read. My thoughts on Lightning Thief have always just been fond nostalgia of popcorn reading in class and laughing with my friends how incredibly right and wrong we were about where the twists and turns would lead, and then my world exploded into something so much bigger when I found this world online. Thank you Percy Jackson, and thank you Rick Riordan.

#Percy Jackson #PJO #lightning thief #fanfiction #reading the books #complete #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Hearthstone #Magnus Chase #Alex Fierro #fierrochase #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #solangleo #Percabeth

[bvb-imagines-yay]

The Letter

AO3 Link

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: None

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki

Additional Tags: Murder, Monologue

Summary: Everyone knew of the letter. The one posted by Dynamight at the start of the war between the hero Deku and the now disgraced hero. The one that started it all. The one that lead everyone to finally agree on the conclusion. Dynamight killed those people. He killed those women and he straight up admitted to it. He had admitted to everything before he eventually went out in a blaze of glory. He had never been the same since he had been kidnapped. Every knew that. They knew that he was an angry child. They knew all about his villainous ways. It was hard to believe that he had even attempted to be a hero in the first place. He was completely too much to handle. Deku knew that all too well. It was completely ignored. No one even tried to think that he was going to end up a villain. The letter was proof enough that he would never be the same ever again.

To the Public:

The less open minded among the world would say that I killed those women. It couldn’t be any further from the truth. I kept them alive. I gave them something few would ever know. Immortality, plain and simple. They said that no one had figured out the secret to eternal youth. Well, I had…I have. It’s called the camera lens. 

You reading this-fake psychiatrist, earning maybe two bucks an hour on this lousy anonymous forum-you might want to call the police after you read this, have them track me down. Shouldn’t be difficult considering you know who I am if you’ve been keeping up to date with the news. You should know the general vanity in which I operate and the methods I utilize. And you know what I mean, too, when I say I provide immortality. 

Think about if, just for a moment, before you Ruch to any conclusions. Those women-all of them-will live longer lives now that they’ve been dragged out of the shadows. Out of the mundane, the placid. Last week tori faces were plastered, in a deluge of ink, onto every major regional publication. They became famous, well known. I gave them something they never could have been afforded if they had gone on living as they had been. Now they live on in celluloid. In memories. Because memories di a better job of painting someone than their immediate physical presence. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

I understand there are no professional photographers here. There are likely none in the police department, either, at least not any who are versed in composition and the rule of thirds and the right sort of film to buy for a particular atmosphere and so on. The pictures they took of the bodies were rushed, amateurish, did my work a disservice. Now, my photos, on the other hand-the ones which landed smack dab on the front page-they looked so much better. I think, even if you are averse to my activity, you must admit that. You saw them. I know you did. And while you looked at them, casually, you were thinking “Wow. This guy may be a horrible person-mentally cared, devoid of compassion or empathy-but he took such great PHOTOS. Glossy and sheen, just the right exposure. Just the right lens.” 

Well. I’m glad you appreciate them. And I’m sure my subjects did as well, when you get down to it. I mean. Think about it. You just walk along that narrow stretch every fay, probably to a hero agency or something, where you shuffle paperwork around, never really accomplishing anything. Never really becoming a part of history. Not that people will remember, at any rate. 

Now though, they’re contemporary Black Dahlias. I think the press has become sloppy as of late. Not enough sensationalism, too much accuracy. Not exploitative enough. My dear friends at the fourth estate, had it not been for my painstaking efforts to pose my cadaver just so, would have been at a loss in describing the utter abhorrence of my crimes. I did most of the work for them, and.I thank them for fulfilling my goal. If I can predict how the coverage will plat out that well, I’m surely going to elude justice for a while yet. Just need to plan ahead. That’s really all there is to it. Considering how much hindsight I’ve got, I think I’m well covered in the foresight department. 

Not that I hoard technique. On the contrary, I’d be all too happy to let you all in on my acumen. The real trick is keeping the limbs still. They always tend to move, ever so slightly, just with gravity pulling them down. In the end, I decided to use transparent fishing wire, sort of to dangle theyr arms from the ceiling, give the appearance of a handshake or a wave. And of course, I taped some rules to their arms in the back, to ensure the proper righty. 

The trickiest part was to get their expressions down pat. I had to stuff their cheeks with cotton balls, tape their eyelids open from the inside. The human face has a ton of expressive muscles, you know. I did my best to cover each of them. Most of the shots, I would say, took at least three hours to set up, when all was said and sone. Three hours the detectives weren’t able yo find me. Three hours with nobody smelling the toying decay from my apartment. Just spending mu time with them. Making their transition into immortality as glamorous and comfortable as possible. 

According to what everyone wrote in after the publication of the photos, they said the women appeared undead. Clinically deceased yet with all the charm and effervescence they had possessed when they were living. Staring at the camera with those watery aqueous membrane, grinning with the receding gums. They were lively when I found them on the route. Put up a good fight. Fame doesn’t discriminate, though. 

The camera is, in some ways, more adept than the eye. Consider that film is merely a mechanical reproduction of the process which takes place the photoreceptors of the eye. Couldn’t we amplify this process to create scenes which are more vivid, more expressive, more emotive, than those seen via normal unaided vision? That’s certainly what I’ve done. I encased them in vivid amber, engulfed them. Preserved them for centuries to come. After seeing those pictures, odds are nobody will be able to gorget them. I etched them into the public consciousness. 

Every roll of film distorted the scene somehow. There’s always the minute probability of light leaking in, as well as the film grain. Really, I don’t think there is a film which can accurately depict the beautiful little still life I had set up in my living room. But I think the simulacra are fine. And I commend the papers on choosing, out go the 750 to so I submitted, the bst ones. Unlike the detectives, it seems the dear fourth estate at least has some lingering sense of scale, of pathos, of distortion. 

You don’t know the half of it, do you? The mess they made in the back of my van, anging on the sides. One even put a dent in it. One-I believe it was the one with the frizzy brow hair and the turtleneck-she kicked the window in while I was dragging her across the parking lot at the side of the route, about halfway through its length. The police still haven’t found the blood from the wound I had to inflict to keep her quiet. They are messy, aren’t they?

I don’t expect you to understand, completely, the effort I put in to ensure that those hapless nocturnal pedestrians would be granted the ultimate privilege, one which I or you the manifold billions which infest this planet will never fully attain. They won the lottery. 

That’s what you’re thinking. “This guy derives pressure from documenting it.” But you couldn’t be more off the mark if you tried. I get nothing out of it. I merely documented it because I felt that it had to be done. I document everything. If I hadn’t done it, all of you would have to go off of would have been those blurry, garbage stills from the police department. You have to admit to yourself, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have wanted that. It wouldn’t have been exciting. It wouldn’t have been interesting. 

But the photos, and the videos, and the other trinkets which even now litter my shelves-they turn this from amber incident, a run of the mill homicide string-into an veritable sensation, a mind-grabbing spectacle. And I’m sure my journalist friends do enjoy that, even if they refuse to admit it to themselves. Their wallets are better off, thanks to my skill. You’re welcome.  

It does feel good to get this off my chest. I’m not desperate for attention. I’m really not. I could care less what you think about me, whether you consider me the hero of the villain in this scenario. I know you’ve already made up your mind about me, but that doesn’t matter eater. It’s just sort of nice to jot this down while the memories of their frightened wails are still imprinted firmly in my mind. Unlike photographs, my long term memory isn’t the best ar retaining information. Soon I won’t even full recall the thrill of putting my arm around their throats within range of at least five drivers above the underpass, all of whom could have caught me in the cat. Better to experience something and forget than to never experience anything and remember it. 

The route itself-prime real estate for such an endeavor. Empty, secluded, yet in the midst of such urban decay. So much foot traffic to choose from. I spent weeks scoping the area out beforehand-every pipe, every grating, each claustrophobic tank and unattended boiler room. I put the bodies back, at various randomly chose places in the city’s water system. Odds are they won’t be recovered anytime soon. All you’ll have to prove they even existed are the pictures. I’m sure of that. 

So I guess this little diatribe-monologue, or what have you-is merely my way of letting you know that I’m out there, an hat I know exactly what you’re thinking. I don’t care about what you think, how you construe these events. There are forces at plat here beyond your understanding and, true, beyond even mine. These women were not taken senselessly. They serve a higher purpose, a function in the scheme of things, like entries in an algebraic equation. They are hints to an all-consuming unknown. You might not know what that blank square is yet, though in time you will. You and the rest of the greasy mob of hypocrites who litter this nation of ours, poison discourse, advocate for blind ignorance.

You enjoy being kept in the dark so much. “Oh,” you say. “They shouldn’t have published those horrid pictures.” Well, they did. And this is only the beginning. Enjoy this level of ignorance while it lasts, because the only thing more terrifying than the unknown is the known. When everything is put into stark contrast, into sharp unflinching comprehension, you’ll be screaming a thousand times harder than any of my victims or any of the oblivious readers who spotted them smiling emptily on page three.

That’s an inevitability. 

-Yours

Dynamight

#my hero academia fanfic #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction

[pikachiee]

Chapter two:

As soon as Edgar finished peeling her apple, he quickly slipped away. It seemed like the maid was almost expecting him, motioning for him to follow her. It didn't take long for them to reach the room.

" this... Is your temporary room...for the remaining days..." She quickly left, but not before giving him a quick and sympathic look. Edgar closed the door behind him, and took a deep sigh. He hastily ran towards his bed and collapsed.

The bed while old and rather worn, was quite comfortable. As the rain started to pour Edgar could feel himself drifting to a deep slumber. His last thoughts were of pure curiosity... Just... What does she look like?

He woke up rather late, almost as if the servants wanted him to rest more.He peered across the small window, it was small. Almost like a jail cell window small. nevertheless he peered over it. It was still raining and it won't ever seem to relent. He sighed for the second time as he mentally prepared himself... For her. He often times found people as loud as her to be foolish and annoying, but for some reason he just finds her to be...curious. as if there's something he's missing...

He had no need to seek out the maid, for he remembered quite vividly where her room was. He let himself think that maybe, just maybe she was in a good mood today.

Of course he was wrong-

The second he opened the door fruits flew from every which way towards him. She huffed and puffed as she slammed her hand on a table. There was a canvas Infront of her... Perhaps she thought that now was the time to paint her?

" now...now! Come on! All painters should be weary of their canvas... And colors!"

" hmm.. what do you mean??"

" WHAT I MEAN...is get me some damn macaroons!"

" f-fine... But what's your name?"

" w-what!? Y-you don't know my NAME??"

" well truth be told everyone... Kinda just refers to you as " the girl" or the " the model" "

" wow... I can't believe this- JUST get me the macaroons then!!"

" fine!"

He walked again to the kitchen asking for a plate of macaroons. The chef that was there gave him yet another sympathic look, the chef actually noticed his almost sulk like aura and asked what was wrong.

" I don't get it... She wants me to get her some stupid macaroons... I'm here to paint her! Not conduct a tea party!"

The chef chuckled to himself sweetly, fondly shaking his head. He motion for Edgar to wait as he grabbed the macaroons. Then The chef pulled him and whispered.

" here... She always asks for this every other day... But she has an odd reason why.. she... She values color among other things... That's why you need to be particular while painting her..."

Edgar nodded and in agreement as well as a silent 'thank you'. He walked his way back to the girl's room particularly taking his sweet time. When he arrived she say a blurry outline of the girl. She was sitting on the table... Elegantly it was almost unbelievable that a girl as ill-mannered as that could sit in such elegance and posh.

" well?"

The girl asked which caused Edgar to snap out of it. He faintly shock his head before holding the plate of macaroons.

" here you go! But why don't we open up the blinds after all it's so dar-"

" NO, anything but the curtains!! Please... Umm, why don't you sit down??" The girl pleaded as she motioned for Edgar to sit. Her very actions caused Edgar a great deal of confusion, yet he complyed.

Now what exactly when on behind the close doors is something that Edgar would never openly admit. But having a mini tea party with the girl was rather enjoyable. Little did they knew but hours slipped on by. Despite all of that the rain still raged on, appearing as though Edgar didn't spend hours in this room.

" oh I think it's getting late... I should be going"

" okay Eddie boy...my name is..."

Hearing her words Edgar quickly looked back looking at her with deep curiosity. He had almost forgotten his first request, and was rather astonished that she'd remember, and actually give him an answer. the girl in hand seemed to have wondered how to properly formed the statement. Perhaps she was looking for a far more eloquent way of expressing her name, but ended up awkwardly clearing her throat, which did nothing but add to the growing tension in the room.She whispered in a sharp yet gentle tone, as if she was going to tell him a secret for his ears only...

" my name is galatea"

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