#*picks up bullhorn*

[honeysuckleharringtons]

any chance you could do Counselors' Lounge for steve please? 🫶🏼💫

hi, love!! i am so so sorry this took so long to get out, work stuff happened and mental health stuff happened but i hope this was worth the wait! it's also not technically workplace but they are working at a summer camp, but if you wanted something else, feel free to leave another ask and i write a new one hehe 🫶🏻💛

"Take Me To The Lake" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: In which Steve's last summer at his childhood summer camp becomes his favorite summer ever.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,048 (she got a lil wordy oops)

Content Warning: reader and steve are implied to be around 18/19, sexual humor and fade to black smut bc steve is a hoe, light mentions of food, mostly fluff but a lil angsty at times, possibly bad descriptions of volleyball bc it's been a minute since i played, reader from ohio lol, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: yeah i did name it after a taylor lyric, what about it??

Originally Written: 07/07/2024 through 0718/2024

Beta Read By: @writer-in-theory 🫶🏻❤️

masterlist | summer celebration

“You're going down!” Steve shouted from his side of the sandy volleyball court, hands on his hips to further prove his point.

You simply shook your head. “You wish, pretty boy!” It looked a whole lot like he mouthed something to the effect of ‘Yeah, I do,’ but a children's summer camp wasn't exactly the place to unpack that.

Camp Clearwater was probably your favorite place on Earth, and it was the one place on Earth where you were guaranteed a month of wonderful bliss with your favorite person ever. To say it was your favorite month of all twelve in a year was probably a little biased, but when you were getting to see the one person on the planet you adored more than anyone else, it was hard not to pick favorites.

Steve Harrington had started out just like any other camper in your eyes: for one, your rival, considering you were never on the same team at camp due to gender differences; not to mention, he was someone you only saw that one time of year. But, thanks to raging hormones at the wonderful age of thirteen, a chance game of “spin the bottle” after dark had brought the two of you together and you'd been inseparable ever since. Sure, you were pretty much only guaranteed the month of July together, but after that fateful first kiss, you called each other every night and all but forced your parents to drive you to the other's city every now and again for a date or two.

“Alright, when the whistle blows, the Ladybugs will serve,” the announcer practically yelled through the bullhorn. Your bones rattled with the volume of her shout, but it only added to the excitement coursing through you.

The whistle blew, the ball went up, and Kimmy smacked it right into the back corner of the court. Was it cheating for you to pick your two best players for the championship set? Maybe, but with Kimmy's precise serves and Megan's ability to keep the ball in the air no matter how many times she had to dive or slide, it would feel wrong for anyone else to be on that court.

The girls met in the middle of the court for a high five, clearly proud of the serve. Cheering them on from the sidelines, you yelled, “Good job with the ace, girls!”

The ball went up again, this time a lighter serve that barely made it over the net, taking out the setter of Steve's team. Still, they managed to keep the ball up, even with the weaker of their players being the one to spike the ball back over to your side of the court. It went back and forth a few times, eventually ending when Kimmy's block went out of bounds.

Steve had definitely brought his A Game when training the two boys on his team, seeing as most of the round, both your team and his were neck and neck on points. Before you knew it, the score was twenty-three to twenty-three, and either team needed only two more points to win.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best decision to coach against your boyfriend. Sure, healthy competition was always a good thing in relationships, but it was Steve's last year as a counselor, and you'd hate for him to walk away sad. Although, from the crease forming between his brows, you could tell that he was more stressed than anything right now.

“Come on, guys, you got this!” he shouted from his side of the court, hands clapping loudly in excitement. You couldn't resist doing the same, turning to your own team and cheering them on.

The next point went to the Ladybugs when Megan surprised them with a tip that fell right over the net, giving the guys' team basically no time to bounce back. You were one point away, and the thought of winning the championship—even if it was only just at some summer camp—made your heart rattle inside your rib cage.

Then, the Beetles took the next point with a shocking service ace, keeping their team and the game alive.

Two more points and again, it was anyone's game. Your heart pounded and your hands shook at the exhilaration and thrill that this game was giving you.

The ball went back and forth, back and forth, until you'd forgotten you were a coach, not a spectator. You were just as entranced by the ball as the parents watching from the bleachers were, and you didn't even realize what had happened until all the girls on your team came flooding over to you, all squeals and cheers.

“We did it!” one girl, Britt, screamed as she jumped up and down. Another squealed, apparently incapable of forming words. Megan and Kimmy were all smiles as they did the handshake all the girls in your cabin had started doing toward the beginning of the month.

You couldn't help but be proud of your girls, not just Kimmy and Megan, but each of the girls on your team that had fought for this year's trophy. In a sense, it was your last trophy, since you'd now graduated high school and wouldn't be playing in college. Though, you definitely were coming back to Camp Clearwater every summer you could.

After your celebratory dinner in the dining hall and the most bittersweet of goodbyes as you sent all your new friends back home to their parents, you couldn't help but search for your ‘rival’ coach to see how he was handling things.

You found him back in his cabin, alone since all the campers had already been sent home. Walls that were usually filled with posters of baseball players and favorite movies were now bare, beds that normally housed pre-teens were now vacant, and the boy who usually wore a smile was now sporting a frown, one that displayed what looked like sadness and homesickness.

“Cheer up, pretty boy,” you said, catching his attention, his eyes darting up to meet your figure where you stood in the doorway. “You've always known I'm better than you at volleyball.”

He snickered, his frown slightly disappearing. “You wish.”

You stepped closer to him, shutting the cabin's front door lightly behind yourself. “What was that you mouthed at me today? Yeah, I do?”

Steve rolled his eyes, though his expression displayed joy at your words. “Thought you might not have caught that.”

Your hands met his hair, swiping through the brown strands delicately. “I'm a better lip reader than you thought, Harrington.”

“Yeah, that's not your only specialty with lips though, is it?”

A scoff escaped your lips. “Is that all you think about?”

“Sometimes,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “But mostly I just think about how pretty you are and how lucky I am.”

A smile pulled at your own lips, your heart nearly melting at his sweet words. Still, despite his demeanor, you still felt the need to ask, “Are we okay after today? No hard feelings?”

His brows creased. “Why wouldn't we be okay?”

“I did beat you at your very last Beach Bug tournament,” you reminded him, your hands moving down to his own and interlocking your fingers.

“Don't remind me,” he said dramatically, throwing his head back. Then, he met your eyes again, his expression sickeningly sweet. “Seriously though, we're okay.”

You held out your pinky finger, a pout appearing on your face. “You prommy?”

He locked his pinky around yours. “Yes, I prommy,” he replied sarcastically before pulling your hand up to his mouth and kissing the knuckles.

Then he was pulling you onto the bed with him, both your legs and his braiding together as they dangled off the side of the mattress. Steve's hand met your waist as he pulled you into his side while his lips met your head for a soft kiss.

“Weird how this is the last weekend I'll spend in one of these cabins,” he mentioned as his eyes darted from you to the roof.

“Don't remind me,” you parroted his words from before, only this time they were true.

His hand slid down to meet your bare leg, skin sun-kissed from all the time you'd been spending in it lately. You noticed his eyes avoiding yours, and the homesickness that swirled in them. The two of you still had another forty-eight hours before you had to leave each other, and yet he was already longing to be back in your arms.

“I do have some somewhat good news, though.”

Your heart raced at the possibilities, though your brows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Well, I was gonna tell you over the phone when I found out but I thought it would be better to tell you in person. Just in case I don't get the reaction I'm hoping for.”

This only made you more confused. “Why would I be upset over good news?”

By now, the two of you had made your way back to sitting, his legs still dangling from the bed while yours were now pulled underneath yourself. Steve’s eyes were more serious now, his breathing speeding up as he got closer to his confession. “Do you remember how I said I was moving for college?”

“Yeah, your dad was trying to get you into U of Chicago,” you waved your hand as you remembered his words. “Alma Mater crap, right?”

Steve chuckled at your question. “I may have not been entirely sincere about the whole thing.”

He just kept adding to your state of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Steve took your hands in his, watching as they intertwined once again. “He was trying to get me into UChi… but that's not where I'm going.”

“What are you…”

The next statement had your heart racing just as much as the volleyball match that afternoon. “I got into Bowling Green.”

Your mouth flew open as your arms wrapped around his neck, squeals flying out of your mouth left and right. “You're kidding!”

His head shook against your shoulder where it rested, and you swore you felt a tear slip against your tee shirt. “I know it's not Denison, but-”

“It's here. It's two hours away from me. Not six.” By now, tears were forming in your own eyes, your smile wider than the lake outside of that cabin. You pulled his face away from your shoulder, meeting his gaze again. “Why would I be upset over this?”

Those big brown eyes you loved fell down to the floor, his tears drying up in an instant. “It doesn't mean I can come back here.”

You wiped at a stray drop of water on his cheek, causing him to shiver at the touch. “Why not?”

“My dad made an agreement with me. If I promised him my summers at the firm, I could promise you my weekends during the school year.”

Butterflies shot off in your stomach like fireworks. He may not have been able to give you everything you wanted, but he could give you enough. And that was simply all you needed.

Hands made their way into dark brown, beautiful strands. Lips met skin, the pulse point of his neck to be precise. “Steven,” one kiss, “Otis,” another kiss, on his jaw, “Harrington,” one last kiss, underneath his ear.

“Hmm?” he asked. You could almost hear his eyebrow cocking upward.

Another long kiss, then a small nibble to his earlobe. “I love you.”

“You're insane.”

His tee shirt made a light thump against the floor. “Insane for you.”

Steve looked down at you through dark eyelashes, meeting you with a half smirk. “I take it you're excited about this whole thing?”

“Very,” you nodded, your grin outright showy at this point. “You remember earlier how you said I was going down?”

The man could hardly keep his composure as your hands met the button of his shorts. “You are truly insane.”

“Maybe…” You finally made your way off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Do you wanna find out how insane I truly am?”

“I've died. I'm in Heaven right now. Or Hell, one of the two.”

“Me too, Stevie,” you said, leaving a kiss on his knee. “Me too.”

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @mochminnie

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 15

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The mountainside is on fire. Smoke billows hundreds of feet in the air. (Y/n) spots a helicopter – maybe firefighters or reporters – coming towards them. 

All around them is carnage. The Earthborn had melted into piles of clay, leaving behind only their rock missiles and some nasty bits of loincloth, but (Y/n) figures they would reform soon enough. Construction equipment lies in ruins and the ground is scarred and blackened.

Coach Hedge starts to move. He sits up with a groan and rubs his head. His canary yellow pants are now the color of Dijon mustard mixed with mud.

He blinks and looks around him at the battle scene. “Did I do this?”

Before Jason can reply, Hedge picks up his club and gets shakily to his feet. “Yeah, you wanted some hoof? I gave you some hoof, cupcakes! Who’s the goat, huh?”

He does a little dance, kicking rocks and making what are probably rude satyr gestures at the piles of clay.

Leo cracks a smile, and Jason can’t help it — he starts to laugh. It probably sounds a little hysterical, but it’s such a relief to be alive, he doesn’t care.

Then a man stands up across the clearing. Tristan McLean staggers forward. His eyes are hollow, shell-shocked, like someone who’d just walked through a nuclear wasteland. “Piper?” he calls. His voice cracks. “Pipes, what — what is —” He can’t complete the thought. Piper runs over to him and hugs him tightly but he almost doesn’t seem to know her.

(Y/n) had felt a similar way — that morning at the Grand Canyon, when she woke with no memory. But Mr. McLean has the opposite problem. He has too many memories, too much trauma his mind just can’t handle. He is coming apart.

“We need to get him out of here,” Jason says, as though reading (Y/n)’s mind.

“Yeah, but how?” Leo says. “He’s in no shape to walk.”

Jason glances up at the helicopter, which is now circling directly overhead. “Can you make us a bullhorn or something?” he asks Leo. “Piper has some talking to do.”

. . .

Borrowing the helicopter is  easy. Getting her dad on board is not.

Piper needs only a few words through Leo’s improvised bullhorn to convince the pilot to land on the mountain. The Park Service copter is big enough for medical evacuations or search and rescue, and when Piper tells the very nice ranger pilot lady that it would be a great idea to fly them to the Oakland Airport, she readily agreed.

“No,” her dad mutters, as they pick him up off the ground. “Piper, what — there were monsters — there were monsters —”

She needs (Y/n)’s help to hold him, while Coach Hedge gathers their supplies. Fortunately Hedge had put his pants and shoes back on, so Piper doesn’t have to explain the goat legs.

It breaks Piper’s heart to see her dad like this — pushed beyond the breaking point, crying like a little boy. She doesn’t know what the giant had done to him exactly, how the monsters had shattered his spirit, but she doesn’t think she can stand to find out.

“It’ll be okay, Dad,” she says, making her voice as soothing as possible. She doesn’t want to charmspeak her own father, but it seems like the only way. “These people are my friends. We’re going to help you. You’re safe now.”

He blinks, and looks up at helicopter rotors. “Blades. They had a machine with so many blades. They had six arms . . .”

When they get him to the bay doors, the pilot comes over to help. “What’s wrong with him?” she asks.

“Smoke inhalation,” Jason suggests. “Or heat exhaustion.”

“We should get him to a hospital,” the pilot says.

“It’s okay,” Piper replies. “The airport is good.”

“Yeah, the airport is good,” the pilot agrees immediately. Then she frowns, as if uncertain why she’d changed her mind. “Isn’t he Tristan McLean, the movie star?”

“No,” Piper says. “He only looks like him. Forget it.”

“Yes,” the pilot replies. “Only looks like him. I —” She blinks, confused. “I forgot what I was saying. Let’s get going."

Jason raises his eyebrows at Piper, obviously impressed, but Piper feels miserable. She doesn't want to twist people’s minds, convince them of things they didn’t believe. It feels so bossy, so wrong — like something Drew would do back at camp, or Medea in her evil department store. And how will it help my father? She can’t convince him he would be okay, or that nothing had happened. His trauma is just too deep.

Finally they get him on board, and the helicopter takes off. The pilot keeps getting questions over her radio, asking her where she is going, but she ignores them. They veer away from the burning mountain and head towards the Berkeley Hills.

“Piper.” Her dad grasps her hand and holds on like he was afraid he’d fall. “It’s you? They told me—they told me you would die. They said . . . horrible things would happen.”

“It’s me, Dad.” It takes all her willpower not to cry. She has to be strong for him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“They were monsters,” he says. “Real monsters. Earth spirits, right out of Grandpa Tom’s stories — and the Earth Mother was angry with me. And the giant, Tsul’kalu, breathing fire —” He focuses on Piper again, his eyes like broken glass, reflecting a crazy kind of light. “They said you were a demigod, Your mother was . . ."

“Aphrodite,” Piper says. “Goddess of love.”

“I – I –” he takes a shaky breath, then seems to forget how to exhale.

Piper’s friends are careful not to watch. Leo fiddles with a lug nut from his tool belt. Jason gazes at the valley below – the roads backing up as mortals stop their cars and gawk at the burning mountain. (Y/n) is drinking a bottle of water – Smart thing for a Poesidon kid to do, Piper thinks – and studying the nicks in Tsunami’s blade. Geeson chews the stub of his carnation, and for once, the satyr doesn’t look in the mood to yell or boast. 

Traistan McLean isn’t supposed to be seen like this. He’s a star – confident, stylish, suave, and always in control. That was the image he’d always projected. Piper had seen the image falter before, but this is different. Now it’s broken, gone.

“I didn’t know about Mom,” Piper tells him. “Not until you were taken. When we found out where you were, we came right away. My friends helped me. No one will hurt you again.”

Her dad can’t stop shivering. “You’re heroes – you and your friends. I can’t believe it. You’re a real hero, not like me. Not playing a part. I’m so proud of you, Pipes.” But the words are muttered listlessly, in a semi-trance. 

He gazes down on the valley, and his grip on Piper’s hand goes slack. “Your mother never told me.”

“She thought it was for the best.” It sounds lame, even to Piper, and no amount of charmspeak can change that. But she doesn’t tell her dad what Aphrodite had really worried about: If he has to spend the rest of his life with those memories , knowing that gods and spirits walk the earth, it will shatter him.

Piper feels inside the pocket of her jacket. The vial is still there, warm to her touch. How can I erase his memories? Dad finally knows who I am. He’s proud of me, and I’m his hero, not the other way around. He’d never send me away, now. They shared a secret. How can I go back to the way things were?

She holds his hand, speaking to him about small things — her time at the Wilderness School, her cabin at Camp Half-Blood. She tells him how Coach Hedge ate carnations and got knocked on his butt on Mount Diablo, how Leo had tamed a dragon, how much of a good swordfighter and battle strategist (Y/n) was, and how Jason had made wolves back down by talking in Latin. Her friends smile reluctantly as she recounts their adventures. Her dad seems to relax as she talks, but he doesn’t smile. Piper isn’t even sure he heard her.

As they pass over the hills into the East Bay, Jason tenses. He leans so far out the doorway (Y/n) is afraid he’d fall, and she reaches out to grab the back of his collared shirt.

He points. “What is that?”

Piper looks down, but she doesn’t see anything interesting — just hills, woods, houses, little roads snaking through the canyons. A highway cuts through a tunnel in the hills, connecting the East Bay with the inland towns.

“Where?” Piper asks.

“That road,” he replies. “The one that goes through the hills.”

Piper picks up the com helmet the pilot had given her and relays the question over the radio. The answer isn’t very exciting.

“She says it’s Highway 24,” Piper reports. “That’s the Caldecott Tunnel. Why?”

Jason stares intently at the tunnel entrance, but he says nothing. It disappears from view as they fly over downtown Oakland, but Jason still stares into the distance, his expression almost as unsettled as Piper’s dad’s.

“Monsters,” her dad sats, a tear tracing his cheek. “I live in a world of monsters.”

. . . 

Air traffic control doesn't want to let an unscheduled helicopter land at the Oakland Airport – until Piper gets on the radio, that is. 

They all unload on the tarmac, and everyone looks at Piper. 

“What now?” (Y/n) asks Piper gently. 

Piper feels slightly uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to be in charge, but for her dad’s sake, she has to appear confident. She has no plan. She’d just remembered that he’d flown into Oakland, which means his private plane would still be here. But today is the solstice. They have to save Hera. They have no idea where to go or even if they were too late. And how can I leave Dad in this condition?

“First think,” Piper says. “I – I have to get my dad home. I’m sorry, guys.”

Leo’s and Jason’s faces fall, but (Y/n)’s expression settles into an empathetic one – as though she understood exactly the problem that was raging in Piper’s head. 

“Oh,” Leo says. “I mean, absolutely. He needs you right now. We can take it from here. 

“Pipes, no,” Tristan McLean had been sitting in the hospital doorway, a blanket around his shoulders. But he stumbles to his feet. “You have a mission. A quest. I can’t –”

“I’ll take care of him,” interrupts Coach Hedge.

Piper stares at him. The satyr is the last person she’d expected to offer. “You?” she asks.

“I’m a protector,” Gleeson says. “That’s my job, not fighting.”

He sounds a little crestfallen, and Piper realizes maybe she shouldn’t have recounted how he got knocked unconscious in the last battle. In his own way, maybe the satyr is as sensitive as her dad.

Then Hedge straightens, and set his jaw. “Of course, I’m good at fighting, too.” He glares at them all, daring them to argue.

“Yes,” Jason says.

“Absolutely,” (Y/n) grins.

“Terrifying,” Leo agrees.

The coach grunts . “But I’m a protector, and I can do this. You dad’s right, Piper. You need to carry on with the quest.”

“But . . .” Piper’s eyes sting, as if she were back in the forest fire. “Dad . . .”

He holds out his arms, and she hugs him. He feels frail. He is trembling so much, it scares her.

“Let’s give them a minute,” Jason says, and they take the pilot a few yards down the tarmac.

“I can’t believe it,” her dad says. “I failed you.”

“No, Dad!”

“The things they did, Piper, the visions they showed me . . .”

“Dad, listen.” She takes out the vial from her pocket. “Aphrodite gave me this, for you. It takes away your recent memories. It’ll make it like none of this ever happened.”

He gazes at her, as if translating her words from a foreign language. “But you’re a hero. I would forget that?”

“Yes,” Piper whispers. She forces an assuring tone into her voice. “Yes, you would. It’ll be like—like before.”

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I love you, Piper. I always have. I — I sent you away because I didn’t want you exposed to my life. Not the way I grew up — the poverty, the hopelessness. Not the Hollywood insanity either. I thought — I thought I was protecting you.” He manages a brittle laugh. “As if your life without me was better, or safer.”

Piper takes his hand. She’d heard him talk about protecting her before, but she’d never believed it. She’d always thought he was just rationalizing. Her dad seems so confident and easygoing, like his life is a joyride. How can he claim she needs protecting from that?

Finally Piper understands he’d been acting for her benefit, trying not to show how scared and insecure he was. He really had been trying to protect her. And now his ability to cope has been destroyed.

She offers him the vial. “Take it. Maybe someday we’ll be ready to talk about this again. When you’re ready.”

“When I’m ready,” he mutters. “You make it sound like — like I’m the one growing up. I’m supposed to be the parent.” He takes the vial. His eyes glimmer with a small desperate hope. “I love you, Pipes.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

He drinks the pink liquid. His eyes roll up into his head, and he slumps forward. Piper catches him, and her friends run up to help.

“Got him,” Hedge says. The satyr stumbles, but he is strong enough to hold Tristan McLean upright. “I already asked our ranger friend to call up his plane. It’s on the way now. Home address?”

Piper is about to tell her. Then a thought occurs to her; she checks her dad’s pocket, and his BlackBerry is still there. It seems bizarre to Piper that he’d still have something so normal after everything he’d gone through, but she guesses Enceladus hadn’t seen any reason to take it.

“Everything’s on here,” Piper says. “Address, his chauffeur’s number. Just watch out for Jane.”

Hedge’s eyes light up, like he sensed a possible fight. “Who’s Jane?”

By the time Piper explains, her dad’s sleek white Gulf-stream had taxied next to the helicopter.

Hedge and the flight attendant get Piper’s dad on board. Then Hedge comes down one last time to say his good-byes. He gives Piper a hug and glares at Jason, (Y/n), and Leo. “You cupcakes take care of this girl, you hear? Or I’m gonna make you do push-ups.”

“Absolutely, Coach,” (Y/n) smiles, her eyes crinkling with smile lines. 

“You got it,” Leo says, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“No push-ups,” Jason promises.

Piper gives the old satyr one more hug. “Thank you, Gleeson. Take care of him, please."

“I got this, McLean,” he assures her. “They got root beer and veggie enchiladas on this flight, and one hundred percent linen napkins — yum! I could get used to this.”

(Y/n) steps forward, pulling the Coach to the side for a moment. “I’ll talk to Grover, for you, okay?” she says. 

The Coach smiles slightly, clapping her on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Jackson.” Trotting up the stairs, the Coach loses one shoe, and his hoof is visible for just a second. The flight attendant’s eyes widen, but she looks away and pretends nothing is wrong. Piper figures she’d probably seen stranger things, working for Tristan McLean.

When the plane is heading down the runway, Piper starts to cry. She’d been holding it in too long and she just can’t anymore. Before she knows it, (Y/n) is hugging her, and Leo stands uncomfortably nearby, pulling Kleenex out of his tool belt.

“Your dad’s in good hands,” (Y/n) murmurs. “You did amazing.”

Piper sobs into (Y/n)’s shirt. She allows herself to be held for six deep breaths, inhaling (Y/n)’s natural ocean scent. And then seven. PIper decides she can’t indulge herself anymore. Her friends need her. The helicopter pilot is already looking uncomfortable, like she is starting to wonder why she’d flown them here. 

“Thank you, guys,” Piper says. “I —” She wants to tell them how much they mean to her. They’d sacrificed everything, maybe even their quest, to help her. She can’t repay them, can’t even put her gratitude into words. But her friends’ expressions tell her they understand.

Then, right next to Jason, the air begins to shimmer. At first Piper thinks it’s heat off the tarmac, or maybe gas fumes from the helicopter, but she’d seen something like this before in Medea’s fountain. It’s an Iris message. An image appears in the air — a dark-haired girl in silver winter camouflage, holding a bow.

Jason stumbles back in surprise. “Thalia!”

“Thank the gods,” says the Hunter. The scene behind her is hard to make out, but Piper hears yelling, metal clashing on metal, and explosions. “We’ve found her,” Thalia says. “Where are you?”

“Oakland,” he replies. “Where are you?”

“The Wolf House! Oakland is good; you’re not too far. We’re holding off the giant’s minions, but we can’t hold them forever. Get here before sunset, or it’s all over.”

“Then it’s not too late?” Piper cries. Hope surges through her, but Thalia’s expression quickly dampens it.

“Not yet,” Thalia says. “But Jason — it’s worse than I realized. Porphyrion is rising. Hurry.”

“But where is the Wolf House?” he pleads.

“Our last trip,” Thalia says, her image starting to flicker. “The park. Jack London. Remember?”

This makes no sense to Piper, and (Y/n) comments “Jason, I love your sister like a sister, but she could’ve made more sense.” 

Jason, however, looks like he’d been shot. He totters, his face pale, and the Iris message disappears.

“Bro, you all right?” Leo asks. “You know where she is?”

“Nfes,” Jason says. “Sonoma Valley. Not far. Not by air.”

Piper turns to the ranger pilot, who’d been watching all this with an increasingly puzzled expression.

“Ma’am,” Piper says with her best smile. “You don’t mind helping us one more time, do you?”

“I don’t mind,” the pilot agrees.

“We can’t take a mortal into battle,” Jason says. “It’s too dangerous.” He turns to Leo. “Do you think you could fly this thing?”

“Um . . .” Leo’s expression doesn’t reassure Piper, but then (Y/n) speaks.

“I can.”

Jason, Piper, and Leo look at her, bewildered and (Y/n) shrugs. 

“Rachel’s dad had a helicopter,” (Y/n) explains, though that wasn’t much of an explanation. 

Piper smiles at the ranger again. “You don’t have a problem with an under-aged unlicensed kid borrowing your copter, do you? We’ll return it.”

“I –” The pilot nearly chokes on the words, but she gets them out: “I don’t have a problem with that.”

(Y/n) grins. “Hop in.”

. . . 

The sun is going down as they fly north over the Richmond Bridge, and (Y/n) can’t believe the day had gone so quickly. Nothing like raging ADHD and a good fight to the death to make time fly, she thinks.

Piloting the chopper, she goes back and forth between confidence and panic. If she doesn’t think about it, (Y/n) finds herself automatically flipping the right switches, checking the altimeter, easing back on the stick, and flying straight. If she allowed herself to think about what she's doing, her brain keeps telling her that Jason’s dad would strike them out of the sky.

“Going okay?” Piper asks from the copilot’s seat. Piper sounds more nervous than she is, so (Y/n) puts on a brace face. 

“Great,” (Y/n) replies. 

“What’s the Wolf House?” Leo asks, he and Jason kneeling side by side in between (Y/n) and Piper’s seats. 

“An abandoned mansion in the Sonoma Valley. A demigod built it – Jack London,” Jason replies. 

Leo can’t seem to place the name. “He an actor?”

“A writer, I think,” (Y/n) replies and Piper hums in agreement.

“Adventure stuff, right? Call of the Wild? White Fang?” 

“Yeah,” Jason says. “He was a son of Mercury — I mean, Hermes. He was an adventurer, traveled the world. He was even a hobo for a while. Then he made a fortune writing. He bought a big ranch in the country and decided to build this huge mansion — the Wolf House.”

“Named that ’cause he wrote about wolves?” Leo guesses.

“Partially,” Jason replies. “But the site, and the reason he wrote about wolves — he was dropping hints about his personal experience. There’re a lot of holes in his life story — how he was born, who his dad was, why he wandered around so much — stuff you can only explain if you know he was a demigod.”

The bay slips behind them, and the helicopter continues north. Ahead of them, yellow hills rolled out as far as (Y/n) can see.

“So Jack London went to Camp Half-Blood,” Leo guesses.

“No,” Jason frowns. “No, he didn’t.”

“Bro, you’re freaking me out with the mysterious talk. Are you remembering your past or not?”

“Pieces,” Jason says. “Only pieces. None of it good. The Wolf House is on sacred ground. It’s where London started his journey as a child — where he found out he was a demigod. That’s why he returned there. He thought he could live there, claim that land, but it wasn’t meant for him. The Wolf House was cursed. It burned in a fire a week before he and his wife were supposed to move in. A few years later, London died, and his ashes were buried on the site.”

“So,” Piper says, “how do you know all this?”

A shadow crosses Jason’s face. Probably just a cloud, but (Y/n) can swear the shape looked like an eagle.

“I started my journey there too,” Jason replies. “It’s a powerful place for demigods, a dangerous place. If Gaea can claim it, use its power to entomb Hera on the solstice and raise Porphyrion — that might be enough to awaken the earth goddess fully.”

(Y/n) kept her hand on the joystick, guiding the chopper at full speed — racing towards the north. He can see some weather ahead — a spot of darkness like a cloudbank or a storm, right where they are going.

Then the  helicopter shudders. Metal creaks, and (Y/n) can almost imagine the tapping was Morse code: Not the end. Not the end.

She levels out the chopper, and the creaking stops. She’s just hearing things. 

“I think we’re about thirty minutes out,” (Y/n) tells her friends. “If you want to get some rest, now’s a good time.”

. . . 

Jason straps himself in the back of the helicopter and passes out almost immediately, but Piper and Leo stay wide-awake with (Y/n).

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Leo says, “Your dad’ll be fine, you know. Nobody’s gonna mess with him with that crazy goat around.

Piper glances over, and Leo is struck by how much she’d changed. Not just physically either. Her presence was stronger. She seemed more . . . here. At Wilderness School, she’d spent the semester trying to to be seen, hiding out in the back row of the classroom, the back of the bus, the corner of the lunchroom as far as possible from the loud kids. Now she would be impossible to miss. It doesn’t matter what she is wearing – you’d have to look at her.

“My dad,” she says thoughtfully. “Yeah, I know. I was thinking about Jason. I’m worried.”

Leo nods. The closer they get to the bank of dark clouds, the more Leo worries too. “He’s starting to remember. That’s got to make him a little edgy.”

“But what if . . . what if he’s a different person?” Piper says. 

Leo had been having similar thoughts. If the Mist could affect their memories, could Jason’s whole personality be an illusion, too? If their friend isn’t their friend, and they are heading into a cursed mansion – a dangerous place for demigods – what would happen if Jason’s full memory comes back in the middle of a battle?

(Y/n) glances back at the sleeping Son of Zeus. “After all we’ve been through? I can’t see it. We’re a team. Jason can handle it.”

“How are you doing?” Piper asks, and Leo and Piper look at her.

“Okay,” (Y/n) replies truthfully. “Memories sort of coming back, though there are still some big gaps.” (Y/n) goes to say something else, but then they hit the storm clouds.

At first, (Y/n) thinks rocks are pelting the windshield. Then she realizes it’s sleet. Frost builds up around the edges of the glass, and slushy waves of ice blot out her view. 

“An ice storm?” Piper shouts over the engine and the wind. “Is it supposed to be this cold in Sonoma?”

(Y/n) isn’t sure, but something about this storm seems conscious, malevolent – like it’s intentionally slamming them. 

Jason wakes quickly. He crawls forward, grabbing Leo’s shoulder and one of the seats for balance. “We’ve got to be getting close.”

(Y/n) is too busy wrestling with the stick to reply. Suddenly, it isn’t so easy to drive the chopper – it’s movements turning sluggish and jerky. THe whole machine shudders in the icy wind. The helicopter probably hadn’t been prepped for cold-weather flying. The controls refuse to respond, and they start to lose altitude.

Below them, the ground is a dark quilt of trees and fog. The ridge of a hill looms in front of them and (Y/n) yanks the stick, just clearing the treetops. 

“There!” Jason shouts. 

A small valley opens up before them, with the murky shape of a building in the middle. Leo aims the helicopter straight for it. All around them are flashes of light that reminds (Y/n) of the tracer fire at Midas’s compound. Trees crackle and explode at the edge of the clearing, and a black and purple figure streaks in front of the windshield.

“Out!” (Y/n) orders. They leap from the helicopter and barely clear the rotors before a massive BOOM shake the ground, knocking (Y/n) off her feet and splattering ice all over her. 

She gets up shakily and sees the completely flattened Bell 412 smoldering with purple flames. 

Then the creature lands in front of her, its green eyes narrowed with hostility. The black dragon’s mouth opens and begins to glow. (Y/n) closes her eyes and raises her hand, turning her head away. 

The dragon closes his mouth, and he tilts his head. Then he presses his head to (Y/n)’s hand. (Y/n) opens her eyes, and meets the dragon’s softened green gaze. He makes a sound like a cat purring, and he opens his mouth again, showing his toothless mouth. 

“Toothless,” (Y/n) murmurs, scratching underneath the dragon’s chin. 

“Jason! (Y/n)!” a girl’s voice calls. 

Thalia appears from the fog, her parka caked with snow. Her bow is in her hand, and her quiver is almost empty. She runs towards them, but makes it only a few steps before a six-armed ogre – one of the Earthborn – bursts from the storm behind her, a raised club in each hand.

“Look out!” Leo yells, and Toothless lets out a rumble. The four demigods rush to help, but Thalia has it covered. She launches into a flip, notching an arrow as she pivots like gymnast and lands in a kneeling position. The ogre gets a silver arrow right between the eyes and melts into a pile of clay. 

Thalia stands and retrieves, but the point had snapped off. “That was my last one.” She kicks the pile of clay resentfully. “Stupid ogre.” Then she sees the dragon looming over the demigods and draws a silver dagger. 

“Wait!” (Y/n) says as Toothless rumbles again. “Toothless, meet Thalia. Thalia, meet Toothless.”

“You tamed a Night Fury?” Thaila looks impressed, and then she hugs Jason and (Y/n), and nods to Piper. “Just in time. My Hunters are holding a perimeter around the mansion, but we’ll be overrun any minute.”

“By Earthborn?” Jason asks.

“And wolves — Lycaon’s minions.” Thalia blows a fleck of ice off her nose. “Also storm spirits —”

“But we gave them to Aeolus!” Piper protests.

“Who tried to kill us,” Leo reminds her. “Maybe he’s helping Gaea again.”

“I don’t know,” Thalia says. “But the monsters keep re-forming almost as fast as we can kill them. We took the Wolf House with no problem: surprised the guards and sent them straight to Tartarus. But then this freak snowstorm blew in. Wave after wave of monsters started attacking. Now we’re surrounded. I don’t know who or what is leading the assault, but I think they planned this. It was a trap to kill anyone who tried to rescue Hera.”

“Where is she?” Jason asked.

“Inside,” Thalia says. “We tried to free her, but we can’t figure out how to break the cage. It’s only a few minutes until the sun goes down. Hera thinks that’s the moment when Porphyrion will be reborn. Plus, most monsters are stronger at night. If we don’t free Hera soon —” She doesn’t need to finish the thought.

Leo, Jason, (Y/n) and Piper follow Thalia into the ruined mansion, Toothless trotting along behind.

Jason steps over the threshold and immediately collapses, falling back onto the Night Fury.

“Hey!” Leo exclaims. “None of that, man. What’s wrong?”

“This place . . .” Jason shakes his head. “Sorry . . . It came rushing back to me.”

“So you have been here,” Piper says.

“We both have,” Thalia replies. Her expression is grim, like she’s reliving someone’s death. “This is where my mom took us when Jason was a child. She left him here, told me he was dead. He just disappeared.”

“She gave me to the wolves,” Jason murmurs. “At Hera’s insistence. She gave me to Lupa.”

“That part I didn’t know.” Thalia frowns. “Who is Lupa?”

An explosion shakes the building. Just outside, a blue mushroom cloud billows up, raining snowflakes and ice like a nuclear blast made of cold instead of heat.

“Maybe this isn’t the time for questions,” Leo suggests. “Show us the goddess.”

Once inside, Jason seems to get his bearings. The house is built in a giant U, and Jason leads them between the two wings to an outside courtyard with an empty reflecting pool. At the bottom of the pool, just as Jason had described from his dream, two spires of rock and root tendrils had cracked through the foundation.

One of the spires is much bigger — a solid dark mass about twenty feet high, and to (Y/n) it looks like a stone body bag. Underneath the mass of fused tendrils she can make out the shape of a head, wide shoulders, a massive chest and arms, like the creature is stuck waist deep in the earth. No, not stuck — rising.

On the opposite end of the pool, the other spire is smaller and more loosely woven. Each tendril is as thick as a telephone pole, with so little space between them that Leo doubts he could’ve gotten his arm through. Still, he can see inside. And in the center of the cage stands Tia Callida.

She looks exactly like Leo remembers: dark hair covered with a shawl, the black dress of a widow, a wrinkled face with glinting, scary eyes.

She doesn’t glow or radiate any sort of power. She looks like a regular mortal woman, his good old psychotic babysitter.

(Y/n) drops into the pool and approaches the cage. “Hera, you in a little bit of trouble?”

Hera crosses her arms and sighs in exasperation. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way, Jackson. Get me out of here!”

“My brother soloed Ares, maybe I should whoop your ass, too,” (Y/n) replies.

Thalia steps next to him and looks at the cage with distaste — or maybe she is looking at the goddess. “We tried everything we could think of, but maybe my heart wasn’t in it. If it was up to me, I’d just leave her in there.”

“Ohh, Thalia Grace,” the goddess says. “When I get out of here, you’ll be sorry you were ever born.”

“Save it!” Thalia snaps. “You’ve been nothing but a curse to every child of Zeus for ages. \bu sent a bunch of intestinally challenged cows after my friend Annabeth —”

“She was disrespectful!”

“Youu dropped a statue on my legs.”

“It was an accident!”

“Bullshit!” (Y/n) replies.

“And you took my brother!” Thalia’s voice cracks with emotion. “Here — on this spot. You ruined our lives. We should leave you to Gaea!”

“Hey,” Jason intervenes. “Thalia — Sis — I know. But this isn’t the time. You should help your Hunters.”

Thalia clenches her jaw. “Fine. For you, Jason. But if you ask me, she isn’t worth it.” Thalia turns, leaps out of the pool, and storms from the building.

Leo turns to Hera with grudging respect. “Intestinally challenged cows?”

“Focus on the cage, Leo,” she grumbles. “And Jason — you are wiser than your sister. I chose my champion well.”

“I’m not your champion, lady,” Jason says. “I’m only helping you because you stole my memories and you're better than the alternative. Speaking of which, what’s going on with that?” He nods to the other spire that looks like the king-size granite body bag. Was (Y/n) imagining it, or had it grown taller since they’d gotten here?

“That, Jason,” Hera says, “is the king of the giants being reborn.”

“Gross,” Piper comments.

“Indeed,” Hera agrees. “Porphyrion, the strongest of his kind. Gaea needed a great deal of power to raise him again — my power. For weeks I’ve grown weaker as my essence was used to grow him a new form.”

“So you’re like a heat lamp,” Leo guesses. 

“Or fertilizer,” (Y/n) grins.

The goddess glares at them. “Joke all you wish,” Hera says in a clipped tone. “But at sundown, it will be too late. The giant will awake. He will offer me a choice: marry him, or be consumed by the earth. And I cannot marry him. We will all be destroyed. And as we die, Gaea will awaken.”

Leo frowns at the giant’s spire. “Can’t we blow it up or something?”

“Without me, you do not have the power,” Hera says. “You might as well try to destroy a mountain.”

“Done that once today,” Jason replies.

“Just hurry up and let me out!” Hera demands.

Jason scratches his head. “Leo, can you do it?”

“I don’t know.” Leo tries not to panic. “Besides, if she’s a goddess, why hasn’t she busted herself out?”

Hera paces furiously around her cage, cursing in Ancient Greek. “Use your brain, Leo Valdez. I picked you because you’re intelligent. Once trapped, a god’s power is useless. Your own father trapped me once in a golden chair. It was humiliating! I had to beg — beg him for my freedom and apologize for throwing him off Olympus.”

“Sounds fair,” Leo says.

Hera movies him the godly stink-eye. “I’ve watched you since you were a child, son of Hephaestus, because I knew you could aid me at this moment. If anyone can find a way to destroy this abomination, it is you.”

“But it’s not a machine. It’s like Gaea thrust her hand out of the ground and . . .” Leo feels dizzy. The line of their prophecy comes back to him: The forge and dove shall break the cage.“Hold on. I do have an idea. Piper, I’m going to need your help. And we’re going to need time.”

The air turns brittle with cold. The temperature drop so fast, Leo’s lips crack and his breath changes to mist. Frost coats the walls of the Wolf House. Venti rush in — but instead of winged men, these are shaped like horses, with dark storm-cloud bodies and manes that crackle with lightning. Some have silver arrows sticking out of their flanks. Behind them came red-eyed wolves and the six-armed Earthborn.

Piper draws her dagger. Jason grabs an ice-covered plank off the pool floor. (Y/n) summons Tsunami; Leo reaches into his tool belt, but he is so shaken up, all he produces is a tin of breath mints. He shoves them back in, hoping nobody had noticed, and draws a hammer instead.

One of the wolves pads forward. It is dragging a human-size statue by the leg. At the edge of the pool, the wolf opens its maw and drops the statue for them to see — an ice sculpture of a girl, an archer with short spiky hair and a surprised look on her face.

“Thalia!” Jason rushes forward, but Piper and Leo pull him back. The ground around Thalia’s statue was already webbed with ice. Leo fears if Jason touched her, he might freeze too.

“Who did this?” Jason yells. His body crackled with electricity. “I’ll kill you myself!”

From somewhere behind the monsters, Leo hears a girl’s laughter, clear and cold. She steps out of the mist in her snowy white dress, a silver crown atop her long black hair. She regards them with those deep brown eyes Leo had thought were so beautiful in Quebec.

Word Count: 6200 words

[xanadontit]

Yesterday: Stared into space and napped much of the day away.

Today: Showered and made up and accessorized, returned a shirt, had house keys made for my parents, picked up a wedding shower gift, bought birthday, Mother’s Day, and graduation cards for the month of May, laundry, booked our hotel for June 1, and ordered a bullhorn for my brother’s graduation lol.

I’d love to think I contain multitudes but really I only have two modes: immobile and

[whirligig-girl]

Followup to this painting: [Oh You Poor Thing]

The Prodigy kids are so interesting to learn to draw. They have quite complicated color pallettes and designs that don't trivially translate to a 2D cartoon, and figuring out where to simply things without them being unrecognizable was an interesting challenge. I went for something close to the Lower Decks style this time (i.e., my usual Guzcomic style) to complete the crossover. If I ever made more Prodigy-focused comics I think I would first spend a lot of time coming up with a better simplification of their designs and color palletes. If there's one thing that the Prodigy kids absolutely have going for them, it's strong shape language in their silhouettes.

I really hope Prodigy gets picked up. I've been rewatching it and it's just so much fun.

Image ID: Digital art webcomic in a Star Trek Lower Decks like art style.

Panel 1: The alien kids from Star Trek Prodigy are wandering together in a crowd. Dal and Gwyn are calling out Murf's name. Gwyn has turned her liquid metal sword into a bullhorn. Zero says "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Rok-Tahk says "Where are you..." Jankom, frustrated, says "Come on guys, it's no use. He's gone forever."

Panel 2: Eaurp Guz, a green slimegirl in a yellow starfleet engineering uniform, is running through the crowd with something wrapped up against her chest, holding it like a baby.

Guz: "Hello? Have you seen a--" Stranger 1: "No." Guz: "Have you seen a group of Mellan--" Stranger 2: "No thanks." Guz: "GRR! You'd think another Mellanoid Slime would stand out in the crowd." Guz: "Hello? Have you seen--" Stranger 3: "BEGONE FOUL THING!" Guz: "Ugh."

Panel 3: Guz continues. "Oh! you kids! Have you seen a Mellanoid Slime? Kinda like me. Gooey, sparkly, probably humanoid and bluish?

The Prodigy kids are gathered in a group and look at Guz, a little clueless. "Like Murf?" Dal says. "Who?" Guz says. The viewer can see Murf, the bluish-purple Mellanoid Slime Worm, being cradled by Guz, but the kids can't see him.

Panel 4 & 5: Close-up of the wrapped up Murf, who turns around, a little teary-eyed, and makes a chirp sound.

Panel 6: Murf leaps out of the wrapped blanket towards the kids, smiling, splashing some blue slime onto Guz's face, and she closes her eyes and braces for the goo to hit her. The kids look ecstatic. "MURF!" they all shout at once. Rok-Tahk goes on and says "I missed you." Jankom says, "Hah. Jankom never doubted a thing."

End Image ID.

extra:

Guz: so. you're. this slime worm's communal family.

Jankom: what of it, ya bag of snot?

Guz: do. do you even know how to raise a slime worm?

Dal: Yes! Well. Maybe. I mean he's basically indestructible, how hard could it be?

Rok-Tahk: Yeah! He once survived eating a live photon grenade.

Guz: What.

Dal: Yeah you know it was probably all the time he spent enslaved in the chimerium mines; hardened him up to it.

Guz: WHAT?

Gwyn: It's a long story.

Guz: wait. hey aren't you those wanted fugitives?

Jankom: Desperately, desperately wanted!

Zero: I can't read her thoughts but I do not think that's the kind of wanted she means.

Dal: Gotta blast!

[thesimquarter]

Some Unused Urbz (GBA) Dialogue

I was looking through the string table in the Urbz for GBA and noticed some dialogue that goes unused in the actual game and decided to catalogue it and share it because I just love things like this.

If you see an '@1', in the dialogue, that's just a placeholder for the player's name (or at least for all of THESE. Sometimes it's used for other things.)

As a side note, the dialogue for this game is pretty well-organized and all the characters have distinct enough voices (TS2GBA DO NOT INTERACT) that it's incredibly easy to figure out who said what. There's also a lot more unused strings, but I'm just focusing on the dialogue right now

First of all, all characters, not just those you can have as a roommate, have roommate acceptance dialogues. So, here are all the unused ones.

BAYOU BOO: Gosh, that's fine idea. Don't mind if I do. BERKELEY CLODD: Sure I'll move in with you. What a splendid way to meet a whole new set of clients. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Sure, I'll live with you, buddy. But be warned: I stay up late. CRAWDAD CLEM: You know, It'd be real fun to share accommodations with you for a bit. Sure. EPHRAM EARL: To haunt your house with your permission, this I will do. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Sure, so long as you help me memorize my lines. HARLAN KING: Of course I will. How wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: Okay! That'd be killer! We're going to have such an awesome time. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sure, why not. It'll be just like college all over again. MAMBO LOA: I would gladly share accommodations with you. When do I move in? Now? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sure, why not? So long as you don't mind the smell of bleach. OLDE SALTY: You're darn tooting! I'd be your roommate any day. CRYSTAL: Okay! I can't wait to redecorate your dumpy pad. POLLY NOMIAL: Yes. To maintain a domicile with you would be most enlightening. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: Why not, right? It'll be loads of fun. I'm moving in today! ROXANNA MOXIE: Sure, why not? It'll be fun, you know? A real laugh. THERESA BULLHORN: Yes! I would love to share your life of glamour and fame. DARIUS: Heck yeah, dawg. We can kick it together. DADDY BIGBUCKS: You betcha! DET. DAN D. MANN: It's an interesting proposition. Hm… Consider it done! LILY GATES: An excellent plan! Your place is much closer to where I work! KRIS THISTLE: You want me to move in with you? After all I've done? Wow. You're great. GRAMMA HATTIE: What a grand idea. Your house will be a great place to hold meetings.

There is also an unused set of rep group-related dialogues. These ones most likely being used if you managed to get an exceedingly poor rep with your rep group.

DARIUS: Hey, @1. Check yourself before you wreck your Rep. The Streeties are getting sick of you hanging around. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sorry to be the one to break this to you, @1, but the rest of the Richies think you're getting a tad uppity. Clean up your act or we'll boot you. POLLY NOMIAL: Our patience with your gradual assimilation into our social sphere is waning. Progress or be excommunicated from the Nerdies. ROXANNA MOXIE: A few words of advice @1. Shape up or ship out of our group. End of story.

These MAY not be unused, but I've never heard of anyone getting any of these messages, and, for the life of me, I could not get them to activate through my own twiddling. There exists no dialogue for actually kicking you out of the rep group. So even if this WAS used, it would just be an empty threat. (I mean… it's implied that it was your rep group that picked you up after you crash landed in Miniopolis, which is why you're apart of it despite not really knowing anyone.)

As a side note, when I was going through getting to -10 rep points with the Richies, after about -6, every time I lost a rep group point, Roxanna Moxie kept on giving my silver plaques. RICHIE silver plaques. Using the Artsie silver plaque dialogue. By the time I was done testing things out, I had five of them. Strange glitch?

So, the Urbz GBA, for whatever reason, doesn’t let us romance the elderly. That doesn't mean that there isn't flirting and kissing dialogue for the unromancable characters! The first dialogue is flirting, and the second one is refusing to accept a kiss.

EPHRAM EARL: A piece of human interest seems to be the loving way. EPHRAM EARL: I cannot kiss that which I cannot touch. HARLAN KING: Eh? Does that have a saucy secondary meaning I am not aware of? HARLAN KING: Ugh! No! Your breath smells like everything but fresh! OLDE SALTY: Arrr, you've cracked my barnacle encrusted heart! OLDE SALTY: I'll kiss no one! Not until you proves your devotion! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Hello there… do you mind if I buy you a small island? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Get away from me, you pest! I'd sooner kiss a sneezing dog. GRAMMA HATTIE: Stop it this instant. I know you're just trying to fool with an old woman's mind. GRAMMA HATTIE: Ack! Help! Help! Police! This boy is trying to inhale me!

Related, when a character accepts a hug or a kiss in-game, they don't say anything. However, there is actually unused dialogue for this event. Almost all of it is just "Aw!". However, there's a few exceptions.

BAYOU BOO: Aw! BAYOU BOO: Plant one right here, girl! BERKELEY CLODD: Come hither and embrace me, @1! BERKELEY CLODD: Ah! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Come here, you! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Oh! EPHRAM EARL: If arms were ribbons consider this my bow. EPHRAM EARL: Ah! EWAN WATAHMEE: Hugs are free, yes. But they are also round. EWAN WATAHMEE: Ah! PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: It's so good to see you too! Let's do lunch. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Ah! LOTTIE CASH: It's fun to be this close to me, huh? LOTTIE CASH: Oh! LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Wrap your arms around me, baby. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Yeah! MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: You washed your hands before you hugged me, right? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Eek! CRYSTAL: Gee, thanks. You're sweet. CRYSTAL: Oh! OLDE SALTY: That's right, give poor Olde Salty a nice hug. OLDE SALTY: Yay! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people touch me if they're not wearing an expensive coat. But for you'll I'll make an exception. DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people kiss me if they're not wearing fruity lip gloss. But for you'll I'll make an exception.

The first dialogue here is accepting a hug; the second is accepting a kiss. All characters not listed here just has "Aw!" as a response to both being kissed and hugged.

There seems to be a scrapped interaction, most likely called 'Talk about Pets.' from the subject of the replies and the fact that it was tucked between 'Talk about Ninjas' and 'Talk about Politics,' which would make the placement alphabetical. I wonder why it went unused!

Not every single character had a line for this. The following characters do not: Bayou Boo, Crawdad Clem, Ephram Earl, Ewan Watahmee Harlan King, Luthor L. Bigbucks, Mambo Loa, Misty Waters, Olde Salty, and Theresa Bullhorn. Some of these characters do have other lines that refer to owning a pet; they just don't have a dialogue here.

BERKELEY CLODD: I looked into buying a talented chimpanzee, but very few know how to pick pock- er, pick their nose. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I have my pet rabbit to thank for my interest in journalism. Why? Well… isn't it obvious? PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: I was so proud my pet lizard Harvey was cast as the lead in a new gladiator film. Sure he beat me for the role… but he was wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: I have a cute little pug named Paris. You don't think I'll get sued for that, do you? I hope not. MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sooner or later, every disease that pets get will jump to humans! The end is near! CRYSTAL: I totally want a pet dolphin so it can protect me from sharks. PHOEBE TWIDDLE: My mom was a cat lady and my dad was a dog guy, so I learned to love pets very early on. But I'll never forget the smell. POLLY NOMIAL: Your colorful colloquy is highly amusing. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: If I tell you I like snakes, you'd better not make any jokes. Got it? ROXANNA MOXIE: Come by the carnival sometime! There are lots of needy animals there. SUE PIRNOVA: I'm not organized enough to take care of another creature. The best I can manage is feeding ants. DARIUS: I like goldfish. What? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Yuck! There is nothing worse that a sniveling, drooling, hairy servant who cannot follow orders. DET. DAN D. MANN: When people don't clean up after their pets, who do you think has to do it for them? Huh? I'm asking you because I don't know the answer. LILY GATES: Every time I buy a pet, I get so busy I forget to feed it. And then… well… I shouldn't own any pets. KRIS THISTLE: Don't remind me! My landlord doesn't allow pets, so when I moved here I was forced to sell my ferret. CANNONBALL COLEMAN: I owned a crow a few years ago. He made enough noise to scare ghosts away. I miss that old bird. GRAMMA HATTIE: I'm definitely a cat person. And a dog person. And a chicken person too. I'm really a pet person. DUSTY HOGG: I used to own a small python and a small dog. Now I just own a bigger python.

'Talk about Pets' does not show up in the list of interactions earlier in the string set.

Lincoln Broadsheet has some mission dialogue that, again, may not be unused, but I have never seen, and I have never seen anyone else talk about it.

YOU: Mister Broadsheet, would you help me write a thesis? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Gosh, I would if I wasn't so busy. Tell you what I can do though: I'll let you use my computer to log in to my research database. That should give you some good ideas. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Hey, have you heard the recent news? A local TV station is filming a new Reality Television Show. YOU: Interesting, but I don't watch much TV. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Me neither, but don't let that stop you from going up to Paradise Island and signing up. If you do well I could write a big article about you. YOU: Are they still letting people sign up? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I think so. Head up to Paradise Island and see for yourself. And if you do well Id love to write an article on you.

Note: I have been informed that the first two lines in this section actually can happen in-game!

It is also appears he would have given the player the Reality TV Show plotline.

And finally, ‘The Bad Ending.’

DADDY BIGBUCKS: People around here call me Daddy Bigbucks. If you like what you see in Miniopolis, it's a good bet I own it.

This is actually listed next to all the character introductions, so this would have been how Daddy Bigbucks introduced himself, if he were to actually introduce himself. There are placeholders for the other characters who don’t get to say a proper introduction as well (Kris Thistle, Det. Dan D. Mann, Crawdad Clem, Harlan King), but they’re just placeholders. No text of relevance.

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

99 Problems

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

*(y/n)'s POV*

"Drive faster, Dean." Sam shouts at him as we scream down the road. "I can’t! Are you okay?" Dean asked Sam, nodding to his wound on his shoulder. "Yeah, I’m amazing." Sam said as I lean forward from the backseat and place a rag over his shoulder, to help stop the bleeding.

"You ever seen that many?" asked Dean. "No." Sam replied. "No way, not in one place." I said. "What the hell?" Dean asked, annoyed, then we came up to a large vehicle that was on fire in the middle of the road and Dean stops the car. "Damn it!" Dean shouts and he backs up.

At that moment, Demons came out, smashed the windows of the car and try to drag the three of us out of the car. We do our best to fight them when, suddenly, water was sprayed on us and the demons let us go, screaming in pain.

"The hell?" I asked as I look out and see a group of people standing by a truck with a firehose and a man on top, holding a bullhorn to his mouth. He started to recite the exorcism and all of the demons scream and we exorcized out of their hosts' bodies.

"Well that’s something you don’t see every day." Dean said as we get out of the car and the man walks up to us. "You three alright?" He asked us as we stare around in shock. "Peachy." I said. "Be careful. It’s…dangerous around here." The guy said and he turns to walk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait." Dean said and the man turns back. "No need to thank us." He said, smiling. "No, hold up a sec! Who are you?" Dean asked him. "We’re the Sacrament Lutheran Militia." The man replied. "I’m sorry—the what?" I asked. "I hate to tell you this, but those were demons and this is the Apocalypse. So…buckle up." He said and the boys and I share a look. How the hell do these guys know about demons and the Apocalypse?

Minutes later, Dean opens the trunk of the Impala to the guy, Rob, and his partners then showed our weapons. Rob looks at this, impressed. "Looks like we’re in the same line of business." Sam said. "And among colleagues. That’s a police-issued shotgun. That truck is, uh…inspired." Dean said, gesturing at the truck and the group of men that saved us

"Where’d you guys pick up all this crap?" I asked our saviors. "You know you pick things up along the way." One of the men, Paul, said. "Guys, come on. This whole corner of the state is nuts with demon omens. We just want to help. That’s all." Dean tells them. "We’re on the same team here. Just talk to us." Sam said and the guys give each other some looks before they look back at us. "Follow us." Rob tells us.

Rob and his group lead his to this small town, with a church that had guards and barriers around it. We get out and walk towards the church when I noticed the devil's trap symbol painted on the ground, in front of the entrance barrier. 

We walked inside to see several people inside and a pastor at the other side of the church, with a couple standing before him. "Who would have thought the Apocalypse could be so romantic? Marriage, family—it’s a blessing. Especially in times like this. So hold on to that." The pastor said while I noticed all of the people in the pew were holding rifles.

"Wedding? Seriously?" Sam asked, scoffing. "Yeah. We’ve had eight so far this week." Paul replied and the boys and I share confused looks amongst each other. 

"Congratulations! Yay!" Some of the churchgoers shouted to the newly wedded couple as they walk out of the church. We stood there outside of the church, watching the people, when the Pastor comes up to us. "So Rob tells me you three hunt demons." He said. "Uh…yes sir." I said and Dean nods. "You missed a few." The pastor teased as I noticed he had a gun holster wrapped around his right leg.

"Yeah. Tell us about it. Any idea why they’re here?" Sam asked him and the Pastor shakes his head. "They sure seem to like us, though. Follow me, gentlemen and lady." He said and he heads inside the church.

"So you’re a preacher?" Dean asked after we followed him into the church. "Not what you expected, huh?" the pastor said. "Well, dude, you’re packing." I pointed out and he shrugs. "Strange times." The pastor said and he turns to the right and opens the door, leading to a basement of people inside making weapons.

"Is that a twelve-year-old packing salt rounds?" Dean asked, stunned. "Everybody pitches in." The pastor said. "So, the whole church?" I asked. "The whole town." The pastor said. "A whole town full of hunters. I don’t know whether to run screaming or buy a condo." Dean said. "Well the demons were killing us. We had to do something." The pastor said.

"So why not call the National Guard?" Sam asked him. "We were told not to." The pastor said and I furrow my brow in confusion at this. "By who?" Sam asked but the pastor doesn’t answer. "Come on, Padre. You’re as locked and loaded as we’ve ever seen. And that exorcism was Enochian. Someone’s telling you something." Dean said. "Look, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can’t discuss it." The pastor said.

"Dad, it’s okay." A female voice said, behind us, and we turn to see a young woman with long light brown hair, a blue button up shirt, jeans and a gray cardigan. "Leah—" the pastor said but Leah continues. "It’s Sam and Dean Winchester and (y/n) (l/n). They’re safe. I know all about them." She said, which surprised me and the boys.

"You do?" I asked her. "Sure. From the angels." She said. "The angels. Awesome." Dean grumbles, annoyed. "Don’t worry. They can’t see you here. The…marks on your ribs, right?" Leah asked and we continue to stare at her.

"So you know all about us because angels told you?" Sam asked her. "Yes. Among other things." Leah replied. "Like the snappy little exorcism spell." I said. "And they show me where the demons are going to be, before it happens. How to fight back." She said.

"Never been wrong. Not once. She’s very special." The Pastor said as he walks over to Leah and places an arm around her, like a proud parent. "Dad…" Leah said, embarrassed. "And let me guess. Before you see something, you get a really bad migraine, you see flashing lights?" Dean asked her and she gives a stunned look to him.

"How’d you know?" She asked him. "‘Cause you’re not the first prophet we’ve met." I said and she looks between us, almost like she was surprised to hear this.

That night we were at a bar and I had my phone to my ear as I tried to call Cas, but he didn't answer so it went straight to voicemail. "You have reached the voicemail box of..." the automated voice said then it pauses and I hear Cas' voice. "I don’t understand why, why do you want me to say my name?" He asked and I hear him push buttons. "So that people will know who they're talking to, Cas." I hear Ariel say in the background as Castiel presses random buttons and I couldn't help but laugh alittle as the voicemail beeps.

"Cas, hey, uh, it’s me. So we are in Blue Earth, Minnesota, and um, we could use a little help. I…hope you get this." I said and I hang up. Ariel, unfortunately, doesn't have a phone as she relies on Castiel with the phone so it's a bit a pain in the ass to not get ahold of her.

"So, did you get a hold of Cas?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer, as I walk over to them. "Yeah, I left him a message. Don't know when or if he'll respond." I replied, taking the beer Sam handed me and sat down next to Dean. "So uh, what's your theory, guys? Why all of the demon hits?" Sam asked us. "I don't know. Gank the girl? The prophet, maybe?" Dean said and Sam shakes his head. "What?" I asked Sam. "Just these angels are sending these people to do their dirty work." Sam said.

"Yeah. And?" Dean asked. "And they could get ripped to shreds." Sam replied. "We're all gonna die, Sam. In like a month...maybe two. I mean it. This is the end of the world, but these people aren't freaking out. In fact, they're running to the exit in an orderly fashion. I don't know that that's such a bad thing." Dean said, taking another sip of his beer.

Sam and I stared at him, stunned. "Who says they're all gonna die? What ever happened to us saving them?" I asked. Dean stared back at us and before he could say anything we heard the church bells toll.

Everyone immediately got up and started leaving the bar. "Something I said?" Dean asked. "Paul. What's going on?" Sam asked him, when he started to walk past our table. "Leah's had another vision." He replied and he leaves and Sam turns to us.

"Wanna go to church?" Sam asked us. "You know me...downright pious." Dean replied, taking a swig of his beer. "You're alot of things, Dean, but pious...eh." I said and he gives me a deadpan look while I stick my tongue out at him. We left the bar and follow everyone to the church.

"Three miles off Talmadge Road." Pastor Gideon announced. Leah whispers in his ear. "Five miles. There are demons gathered. I...don't know how many, but a lot. Thank you, Leah." He said and his daughter took a seat. "So, who's going to join me?" Pastor Gideon asked, Rob raise his hand. "Wouldn't miss it." He said. "Someone's got to cover Rob's ass." Paul said, raising his hand. The two exchange smiles.

"We're in, Padre." Dean said, slightly raising his hand. "Thank you. I'd like to offer a prayer." Pastor Gideon said and everyone, but the boys and I, lower their heads. "Our Father in Heaven..." 

"Yeah, not so much." Dean mumbled. As Pastor Gideon said his prayer, I notice instead of bowing his head to pray along with everyone, Paul pulls out a flask and raises it to a disapproving Rob. "Help us to fight in your name. We ask that you protect us from all servants of evil. Guide our hands in defeating them, and deliver us home, safely. Thank you, Amen." Pastor Gideon said and I lower my eyes to the ground.

We follow Pastor Gideon and his team to a house full of demon, and we, quickly, clear our varying combinations of rock salt rounds, exorcisms, holy water backpack-sprayer blasts, hand-to-hand combat and Ruby's knife. Together we were able to eliminate the demons within record time without anyone getting seriously hurt.

Sam sighs as we walk away from the house. "I guess that's what it's like, huh?" He said. "What?" I asked. "Having backup." Sam replied. "Yeah, it was really nice. And alot easier." I said as we return to our vehicles where we put our weapons away in the trunk.

"Dean. Sam. (y/n)." Dylan called, walking over to us. "Yo." Dean greeted, closing the trunk. "Hey. So, um, is-is that...is that cool that I get a ride back with you guys?" Dylan asked and Sam and I shrugged then Dean waved to Rob, letting him know it's okay. The pastor smiles and drives his trunk away with everyone else on board.

"Hey, you've saved my ass twice already. One more time, you can drive." Dean said to him. "Get a beer?" He then said to me. I open the cooler and pass two beers to Sam and Dean.

Dean waits until the trunk was further down the road before turning to Dylan. "Hey." He said and toss his beer across the car to Dylan. "You earned it. Don't tell your mom." He said. "Oh, believe me...I will not." Dylan said, turning his back to lean on the car.

I handed Dean another beer and we all open our cans. The boys and I tap our cans together and took a drink.

Suddenly, Dylan screams as he was pulled to the ground. Dean races around the car to help him while I drag a demon out from the other side and Sam kills it with the knife. "Dylan!" Dean yelled. Sam and I ran around the car to see Dean dragging Dylan out from under the Impala, I kneel down and help him. Only to realize that Dylan was already dead with his neck slit. "No." Dean muttered in regret while I gasped.

The church held a funeral for Dylan, the boys and I stood outside, watching from the door. We turn around when Rob and his grieving wife walk up. "Ma'am, we're just, um, very sorry." Dean said to her. "You know...this is your fault." Jane spat at him. Dean stares back at her with a guilty look. "Jane. Come on." Rob said, guiding her inside, and she gives us one last glare then heads inside the church. The boys and I share guilty looks and went inside, sitting in the back to avoid eyes.

"I wish I knew what to say. But I don't. I'm so sorry, Jane, Rob. There are no words. Dylan...I don't know why this happened. I don't know why any of this is happening. I got no easy answers. But what I do know is..." Pastor Gideon said, stopping when Leah falls out of her seat onto the floor.

"Leah, honey?" He said, going to her aid as it looked like Leah was having a seizure. "Leah, honey? Honey? It's okay sweetie. It's okay." Pastor Gideon assured her and helps her sit up. "Dad, it's Dylan." Leah said. "Just rest a minute, huh?" Pastor Gideon said.

"No, listen. Dylan's coming back." Leah said, causing the crowd to mutter in confusion. Leah stood up and stand before everyone. "Jane, Rob...It's going to be okay. You'll see Dylan again. When the final day comes, Judgement Day, he'll be resurrected and you'll be together again. We'll all be together. With all our loved ones. We've been chosen. The angels have chosen us. And we will be given paradise on earth. All we have to do is follow the angels' commandments." she said and I furrow my brow at this, that seemed a bit too coincidental for her to have a vision.

Later, the boys and I exit the church while Sam looks at a list that was handed out. "No drinking, no gambling, no premarital sex." Sam listed off and scoffs. "Guys, they basically just outlawed ninety percent of your personalities." He said to us and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever. When in Rome." Dean replied and I turn my head to him.

"So, uh...you're cool with it?" I asked, confused. "I'm not cool. I'm not, not cool. I'm just, look, guys, I'm not a prophet. We're not locals. It's not my call. I'll catch up with you two." Dean said, walking off. "Dean..." I called out but he keeps walking and Sam and I exchange worry looks.

Sam and I went to the bar, where it was completely empty except for Paul cleaning the counter. "Hey. So what happened to, uh, the Apocalypse is good for business?" I asked him. "Oh yeah, right up until Leah's angel pals banned the good stuff. Wanna help me kill some inventory?" Paul asked, pointing at the bottles behind him.

"Sure." Sam said and we take a couple of seats on the bar stools. Paul took a bottle of the shelf and sets three glasses on the bar. "Don't get me wrong. I grew up here. I love this town, but uh, well, these holy rollers?" He said, sounding a but upset.

"Yeah, yeah, I uh, I noticed you're not the praying type." I pointed out and Paul nods, slightly. "Yeah, well, between you and me, neither are half those guys. A couple of months back, they're all in here, getting wasted, banging the nanny. Now they're all Warriors of God. Cheers." Paul said, holding up his glass.

"Cheers." Sam said and we all click our glasses together and swig them down. "Look, there's sure as hell demons. And maybe there is a God. I don't know. Fine. But I'm not a hypocrite. I never prayed before and I ain't starting now. If I go to hell, I'm going honest." Paul said, Sam and I nodded.

"How 'bout you two?" Paul asked us. "What about us?" I asked. "Not a true believer, I take it." Paul said. Sam and I share a look. "We believe, yeah. We do. We're just...Pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago." Sam said as I nod and Paul scoffs.

We drank some more alcohol until it was curfew and Sam and I were force to return to our motel room, where Dean was waiting on his bed. "Where you two been?" Dean asked us. "Drinkin'." Sam replied. "You rebels." Dean teased. "We'd have had more, um, but it was curfew." I said, a bit tired. "Right." Dean muttered. "You hear they shut down the cell towers?" I asked as Sam removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves.

"No. That's, uh, news to me." Dean said. "Yeah. No cable, internet. Total cut off from the 'corruption of the outside world.'" Sam said, using air quotes. "Huh." Dean muttered, unfazed.

"Don't you get it? They're turning this place into some kind of fundamentalist compound." I said, getting mad he was taking this seriously. "No, I get it." Dean replied, matter-of-factly. "And all you've got is a 'hmm?' What's wrong with you?" I asked Dean, worried. "I get it. I just don't care." Dean said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "What?" Sam and I asked, stunned.

"What difference does it make?" Dean asked, shrugging. "It makes a hell of a..." Sam said, then he stops and scoffs. Sam walks over to sit on the other bed in front of Dean and i next to Dean. "At what point does this become too far for you? Stoning? Poisoned Kool-Aid? The angels are toying with these people!" Sam explained. 

"Angel world, angel rules, man." Dean grumbled. "And since when is that okay with you?" I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Since the angels' got the only lifeboats on the Titanic." Dean replied, getting up and brushing my hand off of him. "I mean, who exactly is supposed to come along and save these people? It was supposed to be us, but we can't do it." He said as he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"So what? You wanna, you wanna just want to stop fighting, roll over?" Sam asked. "I don't know, maybe." Dean replied, shrugging, and took a sip of his coffee.  Sam scoffs, shaking his head, while stare at him in disbelief. "Don't say that." I said, smiling painfully. "Why not?" Dean asked. "Cause you can't do this." I replied, stand up. "Actually, I can." Dean said.

"No you can't. You can't do this to me. To us" I said, gesturing between me and Sam as Sam stands up. "I got two things, two things, keeping me going. You think you're the only one white-knuckling it here, Dean? Aside for (y/n), I can't count on anyone else. I can't do this alone." Sam argued.

Dean sets his mug down and walks away, not saying anything. "Dean." I called out to him. "I got to clear my head." Dean said, grabbing his jacket. "It's past curfew." Sam said, but Dean ignores him and leaves. "It's past curfew." Sam muttered and I sigh and place my hands over my head.

"Sam, what is going on with him?" I asked. "I don't know." Sam mutters, shaking his head, and I sigh heavily and drop my arms down and let them swing on my sides for a bit. "I'm really worried about him." I said and Sam nods. "You're not the only one." Sam said and I sit down on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor.

Later, I was skimming through a book but my mind couldn't focus on the words on the book. I pack the book away and take out another one. "I got your message." I heard a voice say behind me. I turn around to see Castiel looking in the fridge. "It was long, your message. And I find the sound of your voice grating." He growls as he closes the fridge. "What's wrong with you?" I asked him, confused.

Castiel wobbles for a bit as he continues to look through the fridge. "Are you...drunk?" Sam asked him. Castiel turns to look at us. "No!" He said, falling forward a bit and grabbing hold of the divider to save himself. Sam and I raise our eyebrows and Castiel leans on the divider for support. "Yes." He said.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked, Castiel sighs. "I found a liquor store." He said, resting his head on the divider. "And?" I asked. "And I drank it!" Castiel exclaimed, like it was so obvious. "Where's Ariel?" I asked him. "I don't know..." he mumbles, drunkly, as he shrugs.

"Why'd you call me?" Castiel asked as he pushes off the divider and wobbles his way over to us. "Whoa. There you go. Easy." Sam said as he and I put our hands on his chest so he wouldn't fall over. "Are you okay?" Sam asked. Castiel looks at him and motions for him to lean closer. Sam does so and Castiel leans in close to his ear. "Don't ask stupid questions." He said.

Sam makes a face and pulls away. "Tell me what you need." Castiel said as he goes to take a seat on the bed. "T-there have been these...these demon attacks. Massive, right on the edge of town. And we can't figure out why they're..." I explained.

"Any sign of angels?" Castiel asked. "Sort of. They've been speaking to this prophet." I said. "Who?" Castiel asked. "This girl, Leah Gideon." Sam said. "She's not a prophet." Castiel said. "I'm pretty sure she is. Visions, headaches...the whole package." Sam said. "The names of all the prophets, they're seared into my brain. Leah Gideon is not one of them." Castiel said and Sam and I look at him, stunned. "Then what is she?" I asked him.

The next day, Dean finally returns to the motel room and Sam and I look up at him. "We went out looking for..." Sam said as he and I stand up from the sofa. But he pauses when we see blood on Dean's hands. "Oh my God, Dean! You alright?" I asked him, worried, as I run up to him and place my hands on his shoulders, looking him over.

Dean glances down to his bloody hands. "Yeah. It's...it's not my blood. Paul's dead." He said and my eyes widen. "What?!" Sam and I asked, shocked. "Jane shot him." Dean replied.

"It's starting." Castiel said. "What's starting? Where the hell have you been?" Dean asked him, angrily. "On a bender." Castiel replied, with an attitude. "Did he...did you say on a bender?" Dean asked, looking at Sam and I, while pointing at Castiel.

"Yeah. He's still pretty smashed." Sam said, patting the angel on his shoulder. "It is not of import." Castiel said, holding up his hand. "We need to talk about what's happening here." He grumbled.

"Well, I'm all ears." Dean said as I remove my hands off of him and he walks over to the sink to wash his hands. "Well, for starters...Leah is not a real prophet." I said, as I sit back down. Dean turns off the sink then looks over his shoulder at us. "Well, what is she, exactly?" He asked, picking up a rag to dry his hands.

"The whore." Castiel said which stuns Dean a bit. "Wow. Cas, tell us what you really think." Dean said. "She rises when Lucifer walks the Earth. And she shall come, bearing false prophecy." Castiel said and he points at the book in front of him. "This creature has the power to take a human's form, read minds. Book of Revelation calls her the Whore of Babylon." He explained as Dean walks over to sit on the chair next to me. 

"Well, that's catchy." Dean mutters, sarcastically. "The real Leah was probably killed months ago." I said. "What about the demons attacking the town?" Dean asked. "They're under her control." Castiel replied. "And the Enochian exorcism?" Dean asked.

"Fake. It actually means, you, um, breed with the mouth of a goat." Castiel said, smiling amused. The boys and I exchange confused look and Castiel looks between us, waiting for our reactions. "It's funnier in Enochian." He said, disappointed.

"So the demons smoking out...that's just a con? Why? What's the endgame?" Dean asked. "What you just saw...innocent blood spilled in God's name." Castiel said. "You heard all that heaven talk. She manipulates people." Sam said. "To slaughter and kill and sing preppy little hymns. Awesome." Dean grumbled as he gets up.

"Her goal is to condemn as many souls to hell as possible. And it's...just beginning. She's well on her way to dragging this whole town into the pit." Castiel explained. "Alright. So, then, how do we go Pimp of Babylon all over this bitch?" Dean asked him.

Later that night, Castiel puts down a wooden stake on the table in front of us and we stare at it then back at Cas. "The whore can be killed with that. It's a stake made from a cypress tree in Babylon." He explained. "Great. Let's ventilate her." Dean said, picking up the stake. "It's not that easy." Castiel said, shaking his head slightly. "'Course not." Dean grumbled and Sam takes the stake from him to look at it. 

 "The whore can only be killed by a true Servant of Heaven." Castiel said as pouring himself a cup of water from the sink. "Servant, like..." I started to say. "Not you. Or me. Or Dean. Sam, of course, is an abomination." Castiel said and Sam give him an offended look. "Cas, that's a bit uncalled for." I said to the angel. "It's okay, (y/n)." Sam muttered. "We'll have to find someone else." Castiel said then he takes a sip of his water.

We decided on Pastor Gideon and Castiel left to retrieve him. A wind blows through the room follow by the sounds of wings flapping and Castiel appears with the pastor. "What the hell was that?" Pastor Gideon asked, stunned. "Yeah, he wasn't lying about the angel thing. Have a seat, Padre. We got to have a chat." Dean said To him as Gideon turns to us.

We then went on to explain everything to Pastor Gideon, who looks at the cypress stake and shakes his head. "No. She's my daughter." He said, sniffing. "I'm sorry, but she's not. She's the thing that killed your daughter." I said. "That's impossible." Pastor Gideon said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But it's true. And deep down, you know it. Look, we get it-it's too much. But if you don't do this, she's going to kill a lot of people. And damn the rest to hell." Sam said.

"It's just..." Pastor Gideon started to say. Dean picks up the stake and holds it out to him. "Why does it have to be me?" He asked. "You're a Servant of Heaven." Castiel said, leaning on the divider. "And you're an angel." Pastor Gideon said, turning his head to look at him. "Poor example of one." Castiel replied. Pastor Gideon turns back to us, staring at the stake Dean was still holding out to him.

We went back to the church, hiding in the office and waiting for Leah. Eventually she enters the room and looks into a mirror in the wardrobe that shows her true face. She closed the wardrobe and sees Castiel there. He grabs Leah and holds her for Pastor Gideon, who went up to them stake raise. "Daddy! Don't hurt me!" Leah pleaded. "Gideon, now!" Sam yelled but Pastor Gideon was hesitating. Leah chants in Enochian, putting a spell on Castiel. "Pizin noco iad." Castiel screams, letting her go and falling to the floor.

Leah uses a form of telekinesis to push us away, sending us slamming into the wall. She runs off while we get up. Pastor Gideon picks up the stake and chases after her. "Gideon! Wait! No!" I yelled as we run after him, leaving Castiel groaning on the ground. 

We enter the basement to see three guys fighting Pastor Gideon, causing him to lose the stake. We run over and attack the men, knocking them to the floor and off of Pastor Gideon. People began screaming and banging on the door of the storage room, begging to be let out. Rob goes over to the door with a lighter but Sam and I tackle him before he can light the kerosene, and then I throw the lighter across the room. 

Jane runs over to attack me but Sam got in her way and began fighting her, while I fight Rob and Dean gets knock down by Leah.

Dean reaches for the cypress stake as Leah pins him down. "Please. Like you're a servant of Heaven. This is why my team's gonna win. You're the great vessel? You're pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It's the end of the world. And you're just gonna sit back and watch it happen." She said.

Dean grabs the stake, punches Leah, and stakes her. "Don't be so sure, whore." He growled. At that moment, Rob and Jane stop fighting with Sam and I to watch what happen in shock.

Leah's body shakes and the stake catches on fire. It explodes, leaving a burning hole where it entered her body. "But...I don't understand. How are we supposed to get to paradise now?" Jane asked, stunned, after a 

"I'm sorry. Pretty sure you're headed in a different direction." Dean replied to her. Pastor Gideon attempts to stand but he was struggling, so Sam and I grab him and help him up. "Gotcha." Sam said. Once on his feet, Pastor Gideon looks down at his daughter in shock. "Come on." Dean said to us.

We retrieved Castiel and exit the the church from the basement. Dean helps Castiel up the stairs while Sam and I help Pastor Gideon. "Dean, how did you do that?" I asked. "What?" Dean asked. "Kill her." I replied. "Long run of luck held out, I guess." Dean said. "Last I checked, she could only be ganked by a servant of Heaven." I said.

"Well, what do you want me to tell you? I saw a shot. I went for it." Dean said, a bit annoyed. We reach the Impala where Dean walks around to the driver's side. "Alright. Here we go." He said and the boys open the doors to the backseat and we help Castiel and Pastor Gideon get in the car. "Watch your head, now." Sam said to Pastor Gideon.

"Are you gonna do something stupid?" I asked Dean, across the top of the car. "Like what?" Dean asked me. "Like Michael stupid." I replied. "Come on, (y/n). Give me a break." Dean said, opening the driver's door and getting in. I glare at Dean then turn to Sam, worried.

Back at the motel, Castiel was laying on Sam's bed, staring at nothing. I pace the floor as Sam was wrapping bandages around Pastor Gideon's arm while he held an ice bag his his bandage forehead. "How's the head?" Dean asked him. "I'm seeing double. But that may be the painkillers." Pastor Gideon replied then chuckles. "You'll be okay." Dean said. "No." Pastor Gideon said, shaking is head.

Dean stares at him for a moment, then he looks over at me. "(Y/n), come with me." He said and I was a bit shocked about this. "I need help to go get some medical supplies since we ran out, that's all." He said and I eye him, warily. "Okay." I said and we head to the door. "We'll be back." I said to Sam and he nods as Dean and I leave the room, get into the Impala and take off.

*3rd Person POV*

​​​​​​"Dean, where the hell are we going?" (Y/n) asked after a few minutes of silence. She noticed that Dean left the town and drove pass a small store that would've definitely had some medical supplies and bandages.

Dean couldn't talk as he does everything to prepare for what he was gonna do, or what he was gonna say that is. ​​​​​​It's for the best... he thought as he stays silent. I just need her to be safe and away...from me. He thought. "Dean, please, you're scaring me." (Y/n) said, worried. "I lied about getting supplies..." he said and she scoffs. "Well, that's obvious." She quips.

"I just...I just want to talk to you, alone." He said and (y/n) eyes him. "Okay..." she said, unsure, then Dean takes a turn and drives down a road til they come up to a white farm looking house and (y/n) recognize it as another one of her father's safe house.

Dean pulls up to the house, shuts the engine off then gets out of the car and goes over to the front end of the car and leans against it. (Y/n) stares at him then she gets out of the car and goes up to Dean and places a hand on his shoulder. "Hey...is everything okay?" She asked him.

He looks down as he preps himself on what he was gonna say and pushed back all the emotions he was feeling away as he gets ready for the storm that was about to happen.

“I think we should break up.” Dean said, simply, and there was silence, not even the birds or bugs made a noise. (Y/n) stares at him, confused. “Excuse me?” She asked. “It’s just not…working. It’s not you, it’s me. I just think that’s what’s best.” Dean admitted. “Are…are you being serious?” (Y/n) asked.

“We’re not right together. You’re Lil’ Miss Perfect and I’m Mr. Screw-Up. I just want to stop pretending we’re something we’re not. You don’t belong with me. It’s over.” Dean explained and (y/n) looks at him, stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening right now.

“You…you can't just say that. You-you can’t just say it’s over. It’s not over. You can’t decide that, I’m in this too.” (Y/n) stammered. Dean closes his eyes tightly, inhaling and preparing himself. 

When he opens his eyes, Dean masks all his true emotions behind an expressionless face as he turns to face her. “I don’t want to be with you. My feelings have changed.” He said in a rough voice, barely able to get it out.

(Y/n) stares at him, completely bewildered. She knew in her heart he was lying, or maybe she wanted to believe he was lying. It took a long moment for (y/n) to articulate her emotions and figure out what to say to such a harsh statement.

“After all we been through. Everything that you've done. Everything that I've done. It’s just been all for nothing?” She asked and Dean stares at her for a moment. “Yeah…it has.” He said in a low voice, still showing no emotion.

(Y/n) looks at him heartbroken but then she gets angry and slaps Dean across the face. “You’ve told a lot of crappy lies before but this one takes the cake.” She growled. Dean turns his head back to look at her, keeping up that expressionless face and acting unfazed even though his heart was breaking.

“You know, when we ran into each other in Jericho and I saw you after…what a few years? I saw this guy who I’ve know all my life. The guy I had a stupid little girl crush on. But those feelings never went away, they only got stronger because you were…well you were Dean. Funny, charming, handsome. You flirted around, but could take no for answer. You could be incredibly sweet in your own way. And you were strong, you’d protect me, but you also got me. Better than anyone I’ve ever been with.” (Y/n) explained.

Dean nodded and looks down as she continues, unable to hold eye-contact with her. “I don’t think I’ve ever really loved anyone until you.” (Y/n) admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. The corner of Dean’s lips twitches as he restrains himself from speaking up and taking everything back. 

“You hear what I’m saying?” (Y/n) asked, getting closer but Dean doesn’t answer. (Y/n) shoves him in frustration, forcing him to look at her. “I love you, you idiot!” She shouted, tearfully.

Dean finds his footing and looks at her, his motionless face beginning to crack, showing a glimpse of regret in his eyes. “And I know you still love me. You told me so yourself that you knew your feelings for me were real! So don’t you DARE stand there and tell me it’s all been for nothing!” (Y/n) said in anguish.

Dean stares at her, taking everything she just confessed in. (Y/n) stands there, trying to fight back the tears as she waits for a response. “I’m sorry…but it does.” Dean said in a harsh whispered. (Y/n) felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest like never before.

Dean was telling himself this is what’s best. He doesn't want her to get hurt and even with her being Ariel’s vessel, he doesn't want to take that chance. She needs to go so in that way he’ll knows she'll be safe. 

Seeing (y/n) about to break down in tears, Dean turns himself away, desperate to ignore it. If he sees her fall apart, he knows he will too. “Now get inside the house.” He said, harshly. (Y/n) breaths shakily, wiping her eyes and trying to maintain her composure. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Winchester.” She said, tears in her voice.

“I don't want you near or around me.” Dean said, keeping his back towards her so she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “Too bad, I’m staying.” (Y/n) said, glaring at him as the tears ran down her cheeks.

Dean looks over his shoulder at her and saw tears running down her face and he turns his head away. His heart shattered when seeing her like this and he closes his eyes, tightly, as he fights back the oncoming tears. Dean let's out a sigh then he gets into the driver’s seat of the Impala and shuts the door. 

(Y/n) wipes away her tears then goes over to the passenger seat and goes to grab the door handle but Dean had already locked the door. "Dean, open the door." (Y/n) said in a low voice. Dean ignores her as he starts the car. "Dean, open the damn door!" (Y/n) said, louder and angrier, as she pulls on the door handle again.

Again, Dean doesn't listen and he shifts in gear. "DEAN WINCHESTER, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" (y/n) yells but then Dean takes off, leaving (y/n) behind.

She stands there, shocked, as she stares after the Impala as it takes off, dust from the dirt billowing behind it. Dean looks up at the rearview mirror to see her standing there for a moment then she places her hands over her face and falls to her knees.

Seeing this made fresh tears fall on Dean's face as he keeps going on down the road. After putting a few miles between him and (y/n), he comes up to a rest stop, which had no vehicles around, and pulls in and parks. Anger and sadness overcame him as he gets out of the Impala and walks over to the door to the men's bathroom.

He stops and stares at the door and the wooden sign that said Men. Suddenly, he punches it then continues to punch it, letting out his anger, frustration and his pain onto the sign and the door. The sign was completely destroyed and Dean grabs the remains of the sign and throws it on the ground.

"SONUVABITCH!" He cries out, in anguish, and he stops and he leans against the wall of the bathroom building and slides down it and sits down. He places his hands over his face as he catches his breath, tears running down his face.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (11/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: John has learned something new that he'd like to show you… Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,630 (this chapter, 27,487 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. It's, yet again, been awhile since the last update, sad to say. I've been slogging through writer's block, health issues and some kinda awful real life stress but I'm not giving up on this fic (or its sibling, "Recreation"). I'd like to say that the final chapters will be here very soon but, well… I've learned to not call my shots, lol. I will, however, do my best to get them here as soon as I can. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

PT arrived bright and early and, while you continued to bring out every expletive in every language you knew, ultimately it seemed your left side was improving: more range of motion in your shoulder and more strength in your leg, though the healing fractures still ached. All together, though, it was a win, no matter that it left you sweating and shaking like you'd wrestled an Elite and lost spectacularly.

You'd just come out of the shower and put on a fresh set of clothes when the door chimed. To your surprise, you found Riz and Vannak in their civvies standing there. You knew Silver Team had been on stand-by for the past few days – John hadn't been able to join you for every meal, understandably, but he had been there every night. Sleeping curled up in his arms was a luxury you weren't sure how you were going to give up when the time came. Kai and her friend had visited but this was the first time the other two Spartans had.

"Please, come in," you said and they did.

"You need new curse words," Riz said seriously.

"We got here while you were doing your therapy," Vannak explained. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"You could hear me cussing out in the hall?" you asked.

"Superior Spartan hearing," she said, matter-of-fact. "I doubt anyone else could."

"Teach her the one," he urged in as animated a tone as you'd ever heard from him before. "You know, the good one."

Which is how you ended up getting a tongue-twisting word in Sangheili added to your arsenal.

"You say that to any Covenant species and it's guaranteed to send them into a rage," Riz said with a confident nod.

"Except the Unggoy," Vannak added with a sneer. "Little bastards couldn't give a shit. They'll try to kill you on principle."

"I'll make sure I'm on a bullhorn from far away, then," you said, biting the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. "Don't want to be in striking distance if I'm going to send them into a rage."

They thought that over.

"Chief won't appreciate us telling her to pick a fight with a Sangheili," she pointed out.

"Just use it on somebody you're pretty sure you can take in a fight," he told you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

They made slightly stilted small talk for about 15 more minutes, then took their leave.

A rest seemed in order, so you propped up on the bed and checked the news. They were in the middle of reporting that they had yet to apprehend the man who had tried to smuggle the bomb back to FLEETCOM in the Warthog. It showed some stock images of the Pit before being damaged by the explosion and that got you to thinking…

There should be some sort of footage of the explosion, right?

But, after poking around on your padd for a little while, you hadn't found much beyond what apparently had been approved for public viewing.

"Would you like some help with that?"

Cortana's voice startled you.

"Oh, hey there," you said, thinking, Poor thing, she's got the most boring job in the world keeping an eye on me. I hope I get the chance to buy her a coffee or something after all is said and done. Then your brain tardily caught up with her words. "You mean you have footage from the explosion?"

"Yes, I do."

"And it's something I have clearance to see?"

"I have footage from the explosion," she repeated, her tone supremely innocent.

Before you could decide whether to ask to see it or not, the holo on the wall lit up. The security cams had caught the explosion from multiple angles. You winced as you saw a body – your body – fly out of the crane operator seat to disappear into a sea of smoke and debris.

A moment later, the view changed, the quality severely degrading. You squinted through the pixilation and haze and realized you were seeing from the point of view of the holo-emiter Cortana had contacted you from.

"Oh, shit," you muttered. The massive beam that had pinned you down should've killed you outright but you'd gotten supremely lucky in the way the rest of the building had fallen, providing just enough support to give you a tiny open space. But even without the sudden, helpful overlay that detailed out the edges of the debris through the smoke, you could see how quickly that respite was vanishing as the beam's weight bore it inexorably lower and lower.

You found yourself gasping for breath, cast back into that moment. The image changed abruptly. Trying to figure out where you were now viewing from helped to break you free of the encroaching panic attack.

Then it all made sense: you were looking at several officers, so covered in dirt and dust that you couldn't recognize their rank, much less determine their names. They also looked extremely short.

Before you even skimmed over the information feeding out in rapid-fire bursts, you knew that this was John's HUD after Silver Team had arrived back on site.

"John, get here now. The support beam is failing!"

Cortana's voice came through his helmet's comm. "There's no time," he said, interrupting the man as he was saying that they would have to wait for an excavation crew to arrive to safely dig you out.

He was running before the man could object. The feed cut back and forth from his HUD to the holo-emiter. This gave you an unexpected perspective on how efficiently Silver Team worked. They needed almost no words as they homed in on your location, grabbing, lifting, moving and supporting each part of the perilous structure as needed.

It was Vannak who caught the beam before it crushed you but it was John who lifted it off of you.

The holo-emiter's feed abruptly ended and you were back in John's HUD. Vannak and Kai caught another part of the crumbling wreckage, creating an opening for Riz to dig you out by hand.

You noted almost absently how steady John's vitals were. He was holding a building off of you as if it were nothing at all.

"Out," Riz announced and John carefully lowered the weight he'd been supporting.

When he turned, you saw Riz clearing the way for Kai, who was now the one carrying you. Vannak and John followed.

They emerged out of the wreckage and Kai went into the Spartan run, taking you directly into a Pelican where she turned you over to a team of medics. The Spartans were waved back and the ship launched.

"We'll catch the next one," Riz said.

"She'll be all right, Chief," Kai told him. "She's strong."

He nodded curtly, tracking the Pelican that was carrying you away.

And once it went out of sight, that was when his vitals spiked and his heart began to pound.

You were still thinking about what all you'd seen when the door chimed again. A glance at the chrono proved it was lunchtime. You opened the door and, indeed, the first thing you saw was a massive, covered tray that no doubt contained your meal. But it was John who was carrying it.

"Silver's on stand-by," he warned, "but I thought we might get a chance to eat together."

Since you weren't yet cleared to make the long walk down to the Mess, a table and pair of chairs had been set up across from the couch a few days ago. As soon as he'd placed the tray down, you practically tackled him.

"Permission to hug the Master Chief?" you asked well after the fact, your voice muffled into his chest.

He gently returned the embrace. "Always granted."

You found yourself holding onto him a little bit longer than usual.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I saw the footage from the Pit," you said, resting your cheek against him. "I already knew I was lucky to get out of there but really seeing it? I… It makes me appreciate being here."

He paused for long enough that you looked up at him, finding him gazing over your head as if hearing something over a comm. Then he turned his attention back down to you, brow furrowing. "She shouldn't have shown you that footage and upset you."

"Cortana? No, I'm glad she did. It happened to me, after all." You put your face against him again and squeezed him once more around his waist. "You held a building off of me, John."

He made a move as if about to pick you up, then thought better of it and knelt instead to bring you more on a level together. "I'd hold a million buildings off of you, don't you know that?" he said, cupping your face. "Just… try not to be under any more falling buildings, hm?"

"I'll certainly do my best," you swore and kissed his palm.

The look in his eyes altered, grew both darker and softer at the same time. When you leaned towards him, he met you halfway.

He started carefully, like he did everything with you, but soon the kiss intensified, deepened, and his hands skimmed from the crown of your head down your back as if he wanted to map every line, curve and angle you possessed.

And then your stomach growled, loudly and unmistakably, and you muttered your newly-learned curse word.

He leaned back to look at you, amusement tugging insistently at his mouth. "That one's Vannak's favorite. He and Riz talked about coming to see you today. I'm assuming they did?"

"They did," you said, then winced as your stomach grumbled something awfully close to a repeat of the Sangheili curse word.

"Why don't we eat," he said, completely surrendering to the smile, "and you can tell me all about it."

Happily, he didn't get called away and you were able to finish your meal together in peace.

"Could I show you something I recently learned?" he asked as you stood from the table.

"As long as it doesn't involve throwing me around the room," you teased.

"Oh, I'll save that until you're all healed up," he murmured, then winked.

You'd like to think you laughed but no, that was a full-fledged giggle. "So, what did you learn?"

"Therapeutic massage," he said, flexing his fingers. "It's supposed to promote healing and relaxation. Want to give it a try?"

"Absolutely," you said. "Where do you want me at?"

"On the footstool, if that's okay?"

"Sure."

The wide, plush, rainbow-colored bit of furniture was another recent addition to the room, added because John wanted you to have the option to put your feet up. Kai had told you that, as soon as you were healthy again, she was going to high-five you for the color choice.

While his back was turned as he adjusted the stool the way he wanted it in front of the couch, you took your shirt off and tossed it haphazardly towards the bed.

He sat, a leg on either side of the stool, and looked up at you, clearly about to say something. But then his expression went thunderstruck and the words never emerged.

You had the same UNSC sports bra that he had to have seen other marines wearing in the gym a thousand times. You'd spotted Kai and Riz in them before, so it shouldn't have been that shocking.

"This all right?" you asked.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes." Every affirmative had its own completely separate inflection, from stunned to wonderment to Wait, don't put the shirt back on.

You turned away, hiding your grin as you sat down where directed. Considering that you were hardly in top fighting form at the moment, his reaction was a very nice little ego boost.

His hands settled gently against your back, fingers curling over your shoulders. "If I use too much pressure or there's pain, tell me right away. Is there anything I should definitely avoid?"

"Can't raise the arm like I should" –you gave a roll of your left shoulder– "but it's already much better than it was."

"Copy that, no raising the arm. Anything else?"

No matter how battered and bruised you felt, there was no way you were going to miss this. "I'll let you know," you promised.

"Okay," he said and his hands glided up to your neck, then out, following the lines of the trapezius on both sides. The heels of his palms followed your spine down in a feathery touch, then spread out along your lats like he was smoothing wrinkles out of them before skimming down your obliques to your hips.

He returned to your shoulders again and very, very carefully kneaded into the tightness there. You did your best not to flinch when he hit a particularly sore spot but he jerked back as if you'd screamed.

"It's fine," you said quickly, afraid he was about to end up perched on the back of the couch like a very large, traumatized cat. "This is the only way to get rid of it. Just got to work it out."

His hands settled cautiously on your shoulders once more.

"You're doing great," you assured him, patting his knees on either side of you encouragingly, and his thumbs drew circles over the painful places as if he were trying not to fracture a thin sheet of glass.

The knots relaxed and you exhaled in the closest thing to sheer bliss you'd experienced in a long while. The warmth and gentle pressure had you melting back into him, your head lolling a bit, your eyelids fluttering shut and—

The next thing you knew, you were waking up. "Oh come on, I didn't want to sleep through all the good parts," you mumbled.

John's chuckle rumbled beneath your ear. He had pulled you back onto his lap on your right side, cradled comfortably against his chest. One hand was gently rubbing your back while the other covered the hand you had fisted into his shirt.

"I'm going to take this as a compliment to my therapeutic massage skills," he said.

"And you absolutely should." You raised your head to look at him. "Maybe next time I can even stay conscious long enough to really appreciate said skills. If there is, you know, a next time."

"There will most definitely be a next time," he swore and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I still owe you a proper back scratching."

"And I am absolutely going to collect on that," he returned, his tone unexpectedly husky.

You smiled, straightening up to kiss him. He pulled you closer, then paused and sighed against your mouth.

"I've got to go," he said resolutely right before his wristband chirped.

You looked for a way to roll off of him that wouldn't aggravate your shoulder – or potentially crush any of his, ahem, important Spartan equipment – but he scooped you up bridal style and stood as if you weighed nothing at all.

"I'll meet you for dinner if we're back soon enough," he promised and gave you one more tender kiss then placed you onto the couch. Before he went through the door, he paused, looking back like he was memorizing this moment, then he took a breath and was gone.

It was nearly dinner time when the door chime rang and you went to answer it with as much of a hopeful spring in your step as you could manage. However, this time, it wasn't John holding a tray with your evening meal on it.

"Dr. Keyes," you said in surprise, snapping a salute.

She said your rank and last name. "May I come in? We need to talk."

[elwin-at-your-service]

heyyy it's livvy. you now are not alone handling everyone's medical disaster!!

i had to delete the other livvy blog because it was a side blog on accident *facepalm* but this is the real me!!

what's going on in this chaos?

Ah, this chaos! Where to begin…

@therealsophieelizabethfoster is exactly as accident prone as you would expect. She seems to have stopped caring that Burn Balm is made with yeti pee, because she has picked up arson as a hobby.

I keep a yeti on diuretics in the basement just to ensure I have a constant supply available (his name is Thing. People kept thinking he was a massive mystery and I guess I can see how his name may have contributed to the misunderstanding…)

@dex-the-smart-one is even worse at seeking medical attention than Sophie. Ask him about his broken arm and his migraines…

Somehow, folding Bullhorn became a pastime. I was already exceptionally good at reattaching amputated fingers, but I’ve perfected the technique to the n’th degree now. Olive oil is the essential final step! The recipe is on here somewhere.

I’ve given out a few more emotional support stuffed animals. A chimera for Mr Forkle and an Aquadon for Marella.

And Amy gave me some stickers of human medical doodads. They’re my profile background! But I did get a few stuck in Bullhorn’s fur and it took a week to get them out (and even longer before he’d speak to me again).

So that’s a taster for you of some of the recent shenanigans. Oh, and I did also mention that once upon a time we used to go on expeditions sourcing rare medicinal ingredients, when someone asked me how I used to keep myself busy before Sophie came along needing medical care all the time. I did also break confidentiality and spill the beans on Bronte’s ingrown toenails at the same time (oops).

OH, AND - I found out the goblins have sandy green earwax, which was fascinating! Who knew???

[honourablejester]

Okay. So. Thinking a bit more about that Remastered PF2e Construction Wizard. Some spitballed ideas.

I do want to just fully commit to the construction thing. Is the wizard effective in combat? Possibly not, or not as much as they could be. I want to give them building spells as much as possible. For the skills I think we build around Arcana, Crafting and Society for our three raise-to-legendary ones. This is a city wizard, a construction wizard, their magic is used to make things.

They’re a dwarf. I’m sorry, they’re a wizard who uses the raw forces of magic to build cities, they have to be a fucking dwarf. That’s dwarfy. It just is. Heh. I feel like either an Anvil Dwarf (legacy) to double down on the crafting thing, or a Rock Dwarf, to double down on, well, the rock. The stones and the building. A couple of dwarven ancestry feats that I might want to pick up include Stonemason’s Eye, Dwarven Reinforcement (strengthen objects and structures), Stonewalker (can cast One With Stone, and builds on Stonemason’s Eye), and March the Mines (gain a burrow speed and take an ally along). Dwarves are so good for construction. I told you this was a dwarfy sort of wizard.

For the background, I wanted something with Engineering Lore. Interestingly, a LOT of backgrounds with that lore are tied to either Alkenstar specifically or clockwork/guns/machinery in general, which isn’t quite the vibe I’m going for. And Alkenstar, given the whole ‘unreliable magic’ thing, might possibly be the worst city for this dwarven wizard to be from. In general, backgrounds with engineering lore are all a bit more mechanical than civic engineering.

Somewhat funny, but one of the few Engineering Lore backgrounds that actually specifically mentions structural engineering is Saboteur, which is coming at it from somewhat the opposite side we’re hoping to. There’s also Thrill-Seeker, for an urban explorer who has engineering so they have a better idea what building’s best for flinging themselves off of. But Athletics and Combat Climber might not be the worst shout here, for a construction worker at heights, if we’re not feeling the classic Junk Collector, Mechanic or Tinker backgrounds.

And then … spells. I really, really want this wizard to JUST be a construction wizard. I want to load their spell list down with everything on from the arcane tradition that you could use to build shit. Or that would be handy on a construction site. It’s an odd urge, kind of building a character for a different game than the one actually being played, but there are lot of niche spells in PF2e that work really nicely for this hyper-specialised wizard over here.

Now. Archives of Nethys hasn’t updated their spells yet for the remaster, so I was picking and choosing inside Pathbuilder, which has also updated for the remaster. So I can’t really link to the spells I’m interested in, but I’m going to mention some of them anyway.

For cantrips, Bullhorn, Telekinetic Hand, and Approximate. If you’re a site foreman, you want to be loud if you need to be, you want an extra hand, and you want to be able to eyeball a pile of materials and get a rough number quickly.

For higher level spells, some ones that jump out are Gentle Landing (feather fall is really handy when building at height) and it’s grown up cousin Soft Landing (feather fall in an AOE, for when scaffolding collapses and you need to catch a bunch of people at once). Also potentially useful for building at height is Bracing Tendrils, which anchor you to the ground, or hopefully surface.

For preparing the ground, you’ve got Pave Ground, which flattens out difficult terrain, Burrow Ward, which solidifies the earth and pushes out burrowing creatures, and higher up we have Transmute Rock and Mud, which turns mud to stone and vice versa.

For actually building by raw magic, you have the ever useful Wall of Stone.

For moving stuff around your construction sites, obviously there’s Teleport at higher levels, but I’m also looking at Airlift, which lets you pick up everyone within 10ft and anything of 10 bulk or less that they’re carrying and fly them up to 60ft. I feel like that could be handy. There might also be a case for Rally Point, which only works for you until it’s heighted to 7th level, but lets you and later up to four other people teleport back to the chosen point once each within the spell’s duration. Might be handy.

A couple of other randomly useful bits of magic would be Cleanse Air, which could be very handy if you’re building underground, digging foundations, or installing anything that might produce contaminants if damaged. Both Safe Passage and Control Water, both on the Civic Wizard’s Curriculum spell list, would also be useful here. And, a slightly random finishing note, Magic Mailbox, which creates a magic link between two containers to allow them to pass contents back and forth, might not jump out on first blush, but could be quite useful on site when you think about it? General communication and divination spells, for site communication and monitoring, could also go in our toolkit.

It is … It’s just a pleasing thought experiment. Designing a PF2e wizard, not for combat or adventuring, but for civic construction work within a city. It’s not the game we’re actually playing, but there is a fair amount of useful stuff in the arcane spell list to make it work. Heh.

This is such a fun arcane school. Useful? Don’t know. But definitely fun.

[thechildrendontlaugh]

The Audacity to Hope

I never read “The Catcher in the Rye” in school. It was never assigned to me, and I never had any desire, until recently, to pick it up. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to get from it—I deliberately avoided any summaries or reflections on it, had a vague understanding of who the main character might be and modern “controversy” around it, but went in pretty blind to anything substantial about it. It was brought up, off-handedly, in conversation, forgotten later on by the one who mentioned it. But it stuck with me.

The story was off-putting. Low on conflict, or plot. A character study of a young man who felt deliberately hard to connect to. I found myself bored, and confused as to what made this book one of the “classics”. It didn’t feel compelling, and I was confused about what its “purpose” was. The story it was trying to tell.

I had a friend a few weeks back talk about “the audacity to hope” that humans have. The constant struggle we have of convincing ourselves, that tomorrow, will be better, even if it’s not true. But how we lean on this anyway—devote ourselves to this belief. How it becomes the sustaining mantra we lie ourselves into. And we do this again, and again. Each day, for the rest of our lives. That stuck with me too.

It wasn’t until the end, that the story began to form itself for me. That I began to see Holden. I could feel where the tension within him arose. Where it remained rearing its head, struggling to be seen, to understand its own self. A clash of traditional masculinity that could not articulate the non-traditional emotional intelligence he was plagued by. An earnestness of hope, which struggled against a cruel reality that invited in and encouraged an inauthenticity of being. Where he did not have the words, but he had the feelings, and he had his own internal conflict which was squeezed tight by the assumptions of everyone else. Of who Holden was supposed to be, needed to be. And how this deeply troubled, and sweet boy, was wilting beneath it. Had wilted beneath it. Been crushed by this audacity of hope that could not stand up to every bullhorned message he received from the world around him.

I wonder if this was inevitable. If this is, more or less, the same wilting we all, at some point in time, will be faced with. This existential struggle where it seems as though we are perhaps struggling against the forces of life itself, challenging its assumptions that a striving for more—for an almost coveted realness—means being mistaken as odd, or not quite right, and ostracized away from ourselves. The purity of ourselves. Of our hope.

I think about the weight of burdens which we force ourselves to carry. The difficulty in putting some of that down. The seeming impossibility of it. The urgency in holding and containing, and understanding it all. Molding our sensitivities around it, and how this shaping so often breaks us where we only meant to remain soft, pliable. How it is so hard, finding a line between the two. A hardness, and a softness. A clear-eyed sharpness towards reality…and an ethereal, ever-lasting hope which can sustain us through the embittering, devastating realities that can leave one at war with themselves. When did hope mean picking up? Why is it so hard to set down? Why is there a seeming obligation to continue moving forward, to persist, to ache after? Can the ache ever die down, or does it remain compelling, because it is the only force that can truly bring us to the place where we were shaped and created to be…

[pargolettasworld]

So, in the United States, you have every right to express your feelings about a political issue -- say, Bibi Netanyahu's prosecution of his war on Hamas in Gaza -- by protesting, loudly, in public, in your neighborhood. Does that right also cover your choice to do this by harassing a random Jewish family in the neighborhood with a bullhorn for forty-five minutes? Honestly, in practical effect . . . probably yes.

But the question I have is this: WHY? Why would you think that this method of protest is effective? What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish by spending the better part of an hour yelling at a Jewish family in the United States with three small children? What would have been your best-scenario outcome from this?

I know the standard lines on this. From the protester's perspective, it's "I'm protesting this great injustice in the neighborhood where I live." From the Jewish family's perspective, it's "You are a raging antisemite who is taking advantage of a cultural moment to let your inner hatred out."

But I'm really honestly curious . . . why would you choose this way to protest? What do you hope to accomplish by it? Are you, for instance, actually expecting that this random family in your neighborhood will listen to you shouting through a bullhorn at them for forty-five minutes, decide that you are absolutely correct, pick up the phone, call Bibi on his private number, and, in a calm and pleasant conversation, convince him to withdraw all Israeli forces from Gaza?

And if that's not your goal . . . what is? What do you expect this Jewish family to do? How do you expect them to respond? What do you want the result of this activity to be?

(Yes, this was a real incident. It happened a few days ago in the neighborhood where my synagogue is. Some friends of mine from the shul were there for it, and are feeling pretty traumatized. The police were called, but they took over an hour to show up, and by that time the protester was gone. We know who this person is. Everyone is basically physically safe, though Words™ were exchanged.)

[qwilman]

Losing your Twitter Audience: Some Shit of the Top of  My Head, by Me

Reposting a Twitter thread I just made because it's got a lot of thoughts I've had stuck in my head lately:

I don't have a fully-formed version of these thoughts, but I think what a lot of artist are asking when they say "where will we go after twitter" is actually asking "where are all of the normal people going to end up?" I can name a half-dozen sites that are ready and waiting for more artists to come flooding onto their platform. I'm sure there are just as many for writers, musicians, filmmakers, everything else. The actual question everyone needs an answer to is where is the AUDIENCE going.

I've been terminally online for well over two decades at this point. I've been obsessed with the internet since middle school and I can honestly say I've never seen anything like twitter's user base in my entire goddamned life. I've never seen a website that EVERYBODY uses. The closest comparison I have is Facebook, which was really the first internet community that normal people ever truly appreciated. At it's core though, Facebook was a tool that kept you connected with people you knew in real life. As much as it changed, that idea was its bones. Twitter isn't really like that. It doesn't have shared calendars or photo albums or a base instinct to keep you hooked into communities you're already in. Twitter has performance in it's core. It's a bullhorn you pick up to shout to as many people as possible. As much as it's changed that's still it's core feature, the thing it's always going to want to do. That's why it's so appealing for every performer in the world, and I think since most people who don't want to be on stage want to watch a show, that's why it got so huge.

So a bunch of performers can reach enormous audiences and a bunch of us managed to make a living off of it. The question now that this stage is burning down with us on it is where is the next one, and I just don't think this massive audience is ever going to move in unison. I think the thing we all need to be prepared for is that we're going to fragment. We're going to find our own corners again and the more savvy members of our audiences are going to find those same corners as they seek out what they love, but our causal viewers will veer off. Twitter has been an incredible tool for us to put our art in the faces of people who would never think to look for it. This was a big part of what the people who found success on Facebook benefitted from as well, the audience who treated social media like television.

The people who are just looking for an entertainment box to turn on and comfort them without effort are most likely never going to use a Pillowfort, or a Tumblr, or a Cohost, and DEFINITELY not a Mastodon, because they all require a base level of interaction and engagement. And to be clear, this isn't me calling those people stupid, or a "bad" audience. People have their own lives and their own interests. Curating a feed of content requires effort and seeking out new artists is a skill. A lot of people just want to crash after they got off work. So those people aren't going to follow us to new sites. Either because those new sites are improved, but more esoteric, or just because signing up for a new site is a hassle of it's own. We're going to lose that audience. Period. Mourn them if you need to, but accept that.

I think success for artists online in the future is going to look a lot more like what it was in the early 00's-10's. Artists and willingly-engaged audiences seeking each other out. I just don't think putting as many eyes as possible on our work will be a winning strategy. Instead of finding as many people as possible, we need to be focused on finding the right people. 100 followers who are excited that their you, specifically, just posted are as valuable as 1000 followers who don't remember you that well and just want to see some cool art. A lot of people stopped trying to find their 1,000 true fans and focused completely on reaching 10k, 50k, 100k followers, no matter how closely they're paying attention. Honest to god, I think the later is going to be suicide in five years.

FWIW, I've never actually been any good at doing that. The biggest following I've ever had in my life is a little over 3,000 followers in TikTok. I think I just feel weird seeing a bunch of artist who have "made it" panic that they'll be losing everything when Twitter's gone. If you have 10k, 50, 100k followers right now, I don't think it's useful to focus on how many you're about to lose. Instead focus on who the best 10% of those followers are, the ones who've supported you financially and by sharing your work, do what you can to meet them where they live.

Anyway this started as an attempt to excise a stray thought I've had stuck in my head all week, didn't mean to spend 45 minutes on it. The point is get ready to post like it's 2007 again. Best case scenario, the internet is going to be asking a little more effort from all of us pretty soon, but I think at the end of the day if things go right we're all going to come out the other side better for it. If you made it this far, dig through your feed, pick one or two of your favorite artists who have links in their bio to give them money, then give them a little money. I promise you they'll notice.

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 15

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The mountainside is on fire. Smoke billows hundreds of feet in the air. (Y/n) spots a helicopter – maybe firefighters or reporters – coming towards them.

All around them is carnage. The Earthborn had melted into piles of clay, leaving behind only their rock missiles and some nasty bits of loincloth, but (Y/n) figures they would reform soon enough. Construction equipment lies in ruins and the ground is scarred and blackened.

Coach Hedge starts to move. He sits up with a groan and rubs his head. His canary yellow pants are now the color of Dijon mustard mixed with mud.

He blinks and looks around him at the battle scene. "Did I do this?"

Before Jason can reply, Hedge picks up his club and gets shakily to his feet. "Yeah, you wanted some hoof? I gave you some hoof, cupcakes! Who's the goat, huh?"

He does a little dance, kicking rocks and making what are probably rude satyr gestures at the piles of clay.

Leo cracks a smile, and Jason can't help it — he starts to laugh. It probably sounds a little hysterical, but it's such a relief to be alive, he doesn't care.

Then a man stands up across the clearing. Tristan McLean staggers forward. His eyes are hollow, shell-shocked, like someone who'd just walked through a nuclear wasteland. "Piper?" he calls. His voice cracks. "Pipes, what — what is —" He can't complete the thought. Piper runs over to him and hugs him tightly but he almost doesn't seem to know her.

(Y/n) had felt a similar way — that morning at the Grand Canyon, when she woke with no memory. But Mr. McLean has the opposite problem. He has too many memories, too much trauma his mind just can't handle. He is coming apart.

"We need to get him out of here," Jason says, as though reading (Y/n)'s mind.

"Yeah, but how?" Leo says. "He's in no shape to walk."

Jason glances up at the helicopter, which is now circling directly overhead. "Can you make us a bullhorn or something?" he asks Leo. "Piper has some talking to do."

. . .

Borrowing the helicopter is easy. Getting her dad on board is not.

Piper needs only a few words through Leo's improvised bullhorn to convince the pilot to land on the mountain. The Park Service copter is big enough for medical evacuations or search and rescue, and when Piper tells the very nice ranger pilot lady that it would be a great idea to fly them to the Oakland Airport, she readily agreed.

"No," her dad mutters, as they pick him up off the ground. "Piper, what — there were monsters — there were monsters —"

She needs (Y/n)'s help to hold him, while Coach Hedge gathers their supplies. Fortunately Hedge had put his pants and shoes back on, so Piper doesn't have to explain the goat legs.

It breaks Piper's heart to see her dad like this — pushed beyond the breaking point, crying like a little boy. She doesn't know what the giant had done to him exactly, how the monsters had shattered his spirit, but she doesn't think she can stand to find out.

"It'll be okay, Dad," she says, making her voice as soothing as possible. She doesn't want to charmspeak her own father, but it seems like the only way. "These people are my friends. We're going to help you. You're safe now."

He blinks, and looks up at helicopter rotors. "Blades. They had a machine with so many blades. They had six arms . . ."

When they get him to the bay doors, the pilot comes over to help. "What's wrong with him?" she asks.

"Smoke inhalation," Jason suggests. "Or heat exhaustion."

"We should get him to a hospital," the pilot says.

"It's okay," Piper replies. "The airport is good."

"Yeah, the airport is good," the pilot agrees immediately. Then she frowns, as if uncertain why she'd changed her mind. "Isn't he Tristan McLean, the movie star?"

"No," Piper says. "He only looks like him. Forget it."

"Yes," the pilot replies. "Only looks like him. I —" She blinks, confused. "I forgot what I was saying. Let's get going."

Jason raises his eyebrows at Piper, obviously impressed, but Piper feels miserable. She doesn't want to twist people's minds, convince them of things they didn't believe. It feels so bossy, so wrong — like something Drew would do back at camp, or Medea in her evil department store. And how will it help my father? She can't convince him he would be okay, or that nothing had happened. His trauma is just too deep.

Finally they get him on board, and the helicopter takes off. The pilot keeps getting questions over her radio, asking her where she is going, but she ignores them. They veer away from the burning mountain and head towards the Berkeley Hills.

"Piper." Her dad grasps her hand and holds on like he was afraid he'd fall. "It's you? They told me—they told me you would die. They said . . . horrible things would happen."

"It's me, Dad." It takes all her willpower not to cry. She has to be strong for him. "Everything's going to be okay."

"They were monsters," he says. "Real monsters. Earth spirits, right out of Grandpa Tom's stories — and the Earth Mother was angry with me. And the giant, Tsul'kalu, breathing fire —" He focuses on Piper again, his eyes like broken glass, reflecting a crazy kind of light. "They said you were a demigod, Your mother was . . ."

"Aphrodite," Piper says. "Goddess of love."

"I – I –" he takes a shaky breath, then seems to forget how to exhale.

Piper's friends are careful not to watch. Leo fiddles with a lug nut from his tool belt. Jason gazes at the valley below – the roads backing up as mortals stop their cars and gawk at the burning mountain. (Y/n) is drinking a bottle of water – Smart thing for a Poseidon kid to do, Piper thinks – and studying the nicks in Tsunami's blade. Gleeson chews the stub of his carnation, and for once, the satyr doesn't look in the mood to yell or boast.

Traistan McLean isn't supposed to be seen like this. He's a star – confident, stylish, suave, and always in control. That was the image he'd always projected. Piper had seen the image falter before, but this is different. Now it's broken, gone.

"I didn't know about Mom," Piper tells him. "Not until you were taken. When we found out where you were, we came right away. My friends helped me. No one will hurt you again."

Her dad can't stop shivering. "You're heroes – you and your friends. I can't believe it. You're a real hero, not like me. Not playing a part. I'm so proud of you, Pipes." But the words are muttered listlessly, in a semi-trance.

He gazes down on the valley, and his grip on Piper's hand goes slack. "Your mother never told me."

"She thought it was for the best." It sounds lame, even to Piper, and no amount of charmspeak can change that. But she doesn't tell her dad what Aphrodite had really worried about: If he has to spend the rest of his life with those memories , knowing that gods and spirits walk the earth, it will shatter him.

Piper feels inside the pocket of her jacket. The vial is still there, warm to her touch. How can I erase his memories? Dad finally knows who I am. He's proud of me, and I'm his hero, not the other way around. He'd never send me away, now. They shared a secret. How can I go back to the way things were?

She holds his hand, speaking to him about small things — her time at the Wilderness School, her cabin at Camp Half-Blood. She tells him how Coach Hedge ate carnations and got knocked on his butt on Mount Diablo, how Leo had tamed a dragon, how much of a good swordfighter and battle strategist (Y/n) was, and how Jason had made wolves back down by talking in Latin. Her friends smile reluctantly as she recounts their adventures. Her dad seems to relax as she talks, but he doesn't smile. Piper isn't even sure he heard her.

As they pass over the hills into the East Bay, Jason tenses. He leans so far out the doorway (Y/n) is afraid he'd fall, and she reaches out to grab the back of his collared shirt.

He points. "What is that?"

Piper looks down, but she doesn't see anything interesting — just hills, woods, houses, little roads snaking through the canyons. A highway cuts through a tunnel in the hills, connecting the East Bay with the inland towns.

"Where?" Piper asks.

"That road," he replies. "The one that goes through the hills."

Piper picks up the com helmet the pilot had given her and relays the question over the radio. The answer isn't very exciting.

"She says it's Highway 24," Piper reports. "That's the Caldecott Tunnel. Why?"

Jason stares intently at the tunnel entrance, but he says nothing. It disappears from view as they fly over downtown Oakland, but Jason still stares into the distance, his expression almost as unsettled as Piper's dad's.

"Monsters," her dad murmurs, a tear tracing his cheek. "I live in a world of monsters."

. . .

Air traffic control doesn't want to let an unscheduled helicopter land at the Oakland Airport – until Piper gets on the radio, that is.

They all unload on the tarmac, and everyone looks at Piper.

"What now?" (Y/n) asks Piper gently.

Piper feels slightly uncomfortable. She doesn't want to be in charge, but for her dad's sake, she has to appear confident. She has no plan. She'd just remembered that he'd flown into Oakland, which means his private plane would still be here. But today is the solstice. They have to save Hera. They have no idea where to go or even if they were too late. And how can I leave Dad in this condition?

"First think," Piper says. "I – I have to get my dad home. I'm sorry, guys."

Leo's and Jason's faces fall, but (Y/n)'s expression settles into an empathetic one – as though she understood exactly the problem that was raging in Piper's head.

"Oh," Leo says. "I mean, absolutely. He needs you right now. We can take it from here.

"Pipes, no," Tristan McLean had been sitting in the hospital doorway, a blanket around his shoulders. But he stumbles to his feet. "You have a mission. A quest. I can't –"

"I'll take care of him," interrupts Coach Hedge.

Piper stares at him. The satyr is the last person she'd expected to offer. "You?" she asks.

"I'm a protector," Gleeson says. "That's my job, not fighting."

He sounds a little crestfallen, and Piper realizes maybe she shouldn't have recounted how he got knocked unconscious in the last battle. In his own way, maybe the satyr is as sensitive as her dad.

Then Hedge straightens, and set his jaw. "Of course, I'm good at fighting, too." He glares at them all, daring them to argue.

"Yes," Jason says.

"Absolutely," (Y/n) grins.

"Terrifying," Leo agrees.

The coach grunts . "But I'm a protector, and I can do this. You dad's right, Piper. You need to carry on with the quest."

"But . . ." Piper's eyes sting, as if she were back in the forest fire. "Dad . . ."

He holds out his arms, and she hugs him. He feels frail. He is trembling so much, it scares her.

"Let's give them a minute," Jason says, and they take the pilot a few yards down the tarmac.

"I can't believe it," her dad says. "I failed you."

"No, Dad!"

"The things they did, Piper, the visions they showed me . . ."

"Dad, listen." She takes out the vial from her pocket. "Aphrodite gave me this, for you. It takes away your recent memories. It'll make it like none of this ever happened."

He gazes at her, as if translating her words from a foreign language. "But you're a hero. I would forget that?"

"Yes," Piper whispers. She forces an assuring tone into her voice. "Yes, you would. It'll be like—like before."

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "I love you, Piper. I always have. I — I sent you away because I didn't want you exposed to my life. Not the way I grew up — the poverty, the hopelessness. Not the Hollywood insanity either. I thought — I thought I was protecting you." He manages a brittle laugh. "As if your life without me was better, or safer."

Piper takes his hand. She'd heard him talk about protecting her before, but she'd never believed it. She'd always thought he was just rationalizing. Her dad seems so confident and easygoing, like his life is a joyride. How can he claim she needs protecting from that?

Finally Piper understands he'd been acting for her benefit, trying not to show how scared and insecure he was. He really had been trying to protect her. And now his ability to cope has been destroyed.

She offers him the vial. "Take it. Maybe someday we'll be ready to talk about this again. When you're ready."

"When I'm ready," he mutters. "You make it sound like — like I'm the one growing up. I'm supposed to be the parent." He takes the vial. His eyes glimmer with a small desperate hope. "I love you, Pipes."

"Love you, too, Dad."

He drinks the pink liquid. His eyes roll up into his head, and he slumps forward. Piper catches him, and her friends run up to help.

"Got him," Hedge says. The satyr stumbles, but he is strong enough to hold Tristan McLean upright. "I already asked our ranger friend to call up his plane. It's on the way now. Home address?"

Piper is about to tell her. Then a thought occurs to her; she checks her dad's pocket, and his BlackBerry is still there. It seems bizarre to Piper that he'd still have something so normal after everything he'd gone through, but she guesses Enceladus hadn't seen any reason to take it.

"Everything's on here," Piper says. "Address, his chauffeur's number. Just watch out for Jane."

Hedge's eyes light up, like he sensed a possible fight. "Who's Jane?"

By the time Piper explains, her dad's sleek white Gulf-stream had taxied next to the helicopter.

Hedge and the flight attendant get Piper's dad on board. Then Hedge comes down one last time to say his good-byes. He gives Piper a hug and glares at Jason, (Y/n), and Leo. "You cupcakes take care of this girl, you hear? Or I'm gonna make you do push-ups."

"Absolutely, Coach," (Y/n) smiles, her eyes crinkling with smile lines.

"You got it," Leo says, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"No push-ups," Jason promises.

Piper gives the old satyr one more hug. "Thank you, Gleeson. Take care of him, please."

"I got this, McLean," he assures her. "They got root beer and veggie enchiladas on this flight, and one hundred percent linen napkins — yum! I could get used to this."

(Y/n) steps forward, pulling the Coach to the side for a moment. "I'll talk to Grover, for you, okay?" she says.

The Coach smiles slightly, clapping her on the shoulder. "You're a good kid, Jackson." Trotting up the stairs, the Coach loses one shoe, and his hoof is visible for just a second. The flight attendant's eyes widen, but she looks away and pretends nothing is wrong. Piper figures she'd probably seen stranger things, working for Tristan McLean.

When the plane is heading down the runway, Piper starts to cry. She'd been holding it in too long and she just can't anymore. Before she knows it, (Y/n) is hugging her, and Leo stands uncomfortably nearby, pulling Kleenex out of his tool belt.

"Your dad's in good hands," (Y/n) murmurs. "You did amazing."

Piper sobs into (Y/n)'s shirt. She allows herself to be held for six deep breaths, inhaling (Y/n)'s natural sea-salt scent. And then seven. Piper decides she can't indulge herself anymore. Her friends need her. The helicopter pilot is already looking uncomfortable, like she is starting to wonder why she'd flown them here.

"Thank you, guys," Piper says. "I —" She wants to tell them how much they mean to her. They'd sacrificed everything, maybe even their quest, to help her. She can't repay them, can't even put her gratitude into words. But her friends' expressions tell her they understand.

Then, right next to Jason, the air begins to shimmer. At first Piper thinks it's heat off the tarmac, or maybe gas fumes from the helicopter, but she'd seen something like this before in Medea's fountain. It's an Iris message. An image appears in the air — a dark-haired girl in silver winter camouflage, holding a bow.

Jason stumbles back in surprise. "Thalia!"

"Thank the gods," says the Hunter. The scene behind her is hard to make out, but Piper hears yelling, metal clashing on metal, and explosions. "We've found her," Thalia says. "Where are you?"

"Oakland," he replies. "Where are you?"

"The Wolf House! Oakland is good; you're not too far. We're holding off the giant's minions, but we can't hold them forever. Get here before sunset, or it's all over."

"Then it's not too late?" Piper cries. Hope surges through her, but Thalia's expression quickly dampens it.

"Not yet," Thalia says. "But Jason — it's worse than I realized. Porphyrion is rising. Hurry."

"But where is the Wolf House?" he pleads.

"Our last trip," Thalia says, her image starting to flicker. "The park. Jack London. Remember?"

This makes no sense to Piper, and (Y/n) comments "Jason, I love your sister like a sister, but she could've made more sense."

Jason, however, looks like he'd been shot. He totters, his face pale, and the Iris message disappears.

"Bro, you all right?" Leo asks. "You know where she is?"

"Yes," Jason says. "Sonoma Valley. Not far. Not by air."

Piper turns to the ranger pilot, who'd been watching all this with an increasingly puzzled expression.

"Ma'am," Piper says with her best smile. "You don't mind helping us one more time, do you?"

"I don't mind," the pilot agrees.

"We can't take a mortal into battle," Jason says. "It's too dangerous." He turns to Leo. "Do you think you could fly this thing?"

"Um . . ." Leo's expression doesn't reassure Piper, but then (Y/n) speaks.

"I can."

Jason, Piper, and Leo look at her, bewildered and (Y/n) shrugs.

"Rachel's dad had a helicopter," (Y/n) explains, though that wasn't much of an explanation.

Piper smiles at the ranger again. "You don't have a problem with an under-aged unlicensed kid borrowing your copter, do you? We'll return it."

"I –" The pilot nearly chokes on the words, but she gets them out: "I don't have a problem with that."

(Y/n) grins. "Hop in."

. . .

The sun is going down as they fly north over the Richmond Bridge, and (Y/n) can't believe the day had gone so quickly. Nothing like raging ADHD and a good fight to the death to make time fly, she thinks.

Piloting the chopper, she goes back and forth between confidence and panic. If she doesn't think about it, (Y/n) finds herself automatically flipping the right switches, checking the altimeter, easing back on the stick, and flying straight. If she allowed herself to think about what she's doing, her brain keeps telling her that Jason's dad would strike them out of the sky.

"Going okay?" Piper asks from the copilot's seat. Piper sounds more nervous than she is, so (Y/n) puts on a brace face.

"Great," (Y/n) replies.

"What's the Wolf House?" Leo asks, he and Jason kneeling side by side in between (Y/n) and Piper's seats.

"An abandoned mansion in the Sonoma Valley. A demigod built it – Jack London," Jason replies.

Leo can't seem to place the name. "He an actor?"

"A writer, I think," (Y/n) replies and Piper hums in agreement.

"Adventure stuff, right? Call of the Wild? White Fang?"

"Yeah," Jason says. "He was a son of Mercury — I mean, Hermes. He was an adventurer, traveled the world. He was even a hobo for a while. Then he made a fortune writing. He bought a big ranch in the country and decided to build this huge mansion — the Wolf House."

"Named that 'cause he wrote about wolves?" Leo guesses.

"Partially," Jason replies. "But the site, and the reason he wrote about wolves — he was dropping hints about his personal experience. There're a lot of holes in his life story — how he was born, who his dad was, why he wandered around so much — stuff you can only explain if you know he was a demigod."

The bay slips behind them, and the helicopter continues north. Ahead of them, yellow hills rolled out as far as (Y/n) can see.

"So Jack London went to Camp Half-Blood," Leo guesses.

"No," Jason frowns. "No, he didn't."

"Bro, you're freaking me out with the mysterious talk. Are you remembering your past or not?"

"Pieces," Jason says. "Only pieces. None of it good. The Wolf House is on sacred ground. It's where London started his journey as a child — where he found out he was a demigod. That's why he returned there. He thought he could live there, claim that land, but it wasn't meant for him. The Wolf House was cursed. It burned in a fire a week before he and his wife were supposed to move in. A few years later, London died, and his ashes were buried on the site."

"So," Piper says, "how do you know all this?"

A shadow crosses Jason's face. Probably just a cloud, but (Y/n) can swear the shape looked like an eagle.

"I started my journey there too," Jason replies. "It's a powerful place for demigods, a dangerous place. If Gaea can claim it, use its power to entomb Hera on the solstice and raise Porphyrion — that might be enough to awaken the earth goddess fully."

(Y/n) kept her hand on the joystick, guiding the chopper at full speed — racing towards the north. He can see some weather ahead — a spot of darkness like a cloudbank or a storm, right where they are going.

Then the helicopter shudders. Metal creaks, and (Y/n) can almost imagine the tapping was Morse code: Not the end. Not the end.

She levels out the chopper, and the creaking stops. She's just hearing things.

"I think we're about thirty minutes out," (Y/n) tells her friends. "If you want to get some rest, now's a good time."

. . .

Jason straps himself in the back of the helicopter and passes out almost immediately, but Piper and Leo stay wide-awake with (Y/n).

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Leo says, "Your dad'll be fine, you know. Nobody's gonna mess with him with that crazy goat around.

Piper glances over, and Leo is struck by how much she'd changed. Not just physically either. Her presence was stronger. She seemed more . . . here. At Wilderness School, she'd spent the semester trying to to be seen, hiding out in the back row of the classroom, the back of the bus, the corner of the lunchroom as far as possible from the loud kids. Now she would be impossible to miss. It doesn't matter what she is wearing – you'd have to look at her.

"My dad," she says thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know. I was thinking about Jason. I'm worried."

Leo nods. The closer they get to the bank of dark clouds, the more Leo worries too. "He's starting to remember. That's got to make him a little edgy."

"But what if . . . what if he's a different person?" Piper says.

Leo had been having similar thoughts. If the Mist could affect their memories, could Jason's whole personality be an illusion, too? If their friend isn't their friend, and they are heading into a cursed mansion – a dangerous place for demigods – what would happen if Jason's full memory comes back in the middle of a battle?

(Y/n) glances back at the sleeping Son of Zeus. "After all we've been through? I can't see it. We're a team. Jason can handle it."

"How are you doing?" Piper asks, and Leo and Piper look at her.

"Okay," (Y/n) replies truthfully. "Memories sort of coming back, though there are still some big gaps." (Y/n) goes to say something else, but then they hit the storm clouds.

At first, (Y/n) thinks rocks are pelting the windshield. Then she realizes it's sleet. Frost builds up around the edges of the glass, and slushy waves of ice blot out her view.

"An ice storm?" Piper shouts over the engine and the wind. "Is it supposed to be this cold in Sonoma?"

(Y/n) isn't sure, but something about this storm seems conscious, malevolent – like it's intentionally slamming them.

Jason wakes quickly. He crawls forward, grabbing Leo's shoulder and one of the seats for balance. "We've got to be getting close."

(Y/n) is too busy wrestling with the stick to reply. Suddenly, it isn't so easy to drive the chopper – it's movements turning sluggish and jerky. The whole machine shudders in the icy wind. The helicopter probably hadn't been prepped for cold-weather flying. The controls refuse to respond, and they start to lose altitude.

Below them, the ground is a dark quilt of trees and fog. The ridge of a hill looms in front of them and (Y/n) yanks the stick, just clearing the treetops.

"There!" Jason shouts.

A small valley opens up before them, with the murky shape of a building in the middle. Leo aims the helicopter straight for it. All around them are flashes of light that reminds (Y/n) of the tracer fire at Midas's compound. Trees crackle and explode at the edge of the clearing, and a black and purple figure streaks in front of the windshield.

"Out!" (Y/n) orders. They leap from the helicopter and barely clear the rotors before a massive BOOM shake the ground, knocking (Y/n) off her feet and splattering ice all over her.

She gets up shakily and sees the completely flattened Bell 412 smoldering with purple flames.

Then the creature lands in front of her, its green eyes narrowed with hostility. The black dragon's mouth opens and begins to glow. (Y/n) closes her eyes and raises her hand, turning her head away.

The dragon closes his mouth, and he tilts his head. Then he presses his head to (Y/n)'s hand. (Y/n) opens her eyes, and meets the dragon's softened green gaze. He makes a sound like a cat purring, and he opens his mouth again, showing his toothless mouth.

"Toothless," (Y/n) murmurs, scratching underneath the dragon's chin.

"Jason! (Y/n)!" a girl's voice calls.

Thalia appears from the fog, her parka caked with snow. Her bow is in her hand, and her quiver is almost empty. She runs towards them, but makes it only a few steps before a six-armed ogre – one of the Earthborn – bursts from the storm behind her, a raised club in each hand.

"Look out!" Leo yells, and Toothless lets out a rumble. The four demigods rush to help, but Thalia has it covered. She launches into a flip, notching an arrow as she pivots like gymnast and lands in a kneeling position. The ogre gets a silver arrow right between the eyes and melts into a pile of clay.

Thalia stands and retrieves, but the point had snapped off. "That was my last one." She kicks the pile of clay resentfully. "Stupid ogre." Then she sees the dragon looming over the demigods and draws a silver dagger.

"Wait!" (Y/n) says as Toothless rumbles again. "Toothless, meet Thalia. Thalia, meet Toothless."

"You tamed a Night Fury?" Thaila looks impressed, and then she hugs Jason and (Y/n), and nods to Piper. "Just in time. My Hunters are holding a perimeter around the mansion, but we'll be overrun any minute."

"By Earthborn?" Jason asks.

"And wolves — Lycaon's minions." Thalia blows a fleck of ice off her nose. "Also storm spirits —"

"But we gave them to Aeolus!" Piper protests.

"Who tried to kill us," Leo reminds her. "Maybe he's helping Gaea again."

"I don't know," Thalia says. "But the monsters keep re-forming almost as fast as we can kill them. We took the Wolf House with no problem: surprised the guards and sent them straight to Tartarus. But then this freak snowstorm blew in. Wave after wave of monsters started attacking. Now we're surrounded. I don't know who or what is leading the assault, but I think they planned this. It was a trap to kill anyone who tried to rescue Hera."

"Where is she?" Jason asked.

"Inside," Thalia says. "We tried to free her, but we can't figure out how to break the cage. It's only a few minutes until the sun goes down. Hera thinks that's the moment when Porphyrion will be reborn. Plus, most monsters are stronger at night. If we don't free Hera soon —" She doesn't need to finish the thought.

Leo, Jason, (Y/n) and Piper follow Thalia into the ruined mansion, Toothless trotting along behind.

Jason steps over the threshold and immediately collapses, falling back onto the Night Fury.

"Hey!" Leo exclaims. "None of that, man. What's wrong?"

"This place . . ." Jason shakes his head. "Sorry . . . It came rushing back to me."

"So you have been here," Piper says.

"We both have," Thalia replies. Her expression is grim, like she's reliving someone's death. "This is where my mom took us when Jason was a child. She left him here, told me he was dead. He just disappeared."

"She gave me to the wolves," Jason murmurs. "At Hera's insistence. She gave me to Lupa."

"That part I didn't know." Thalia frowns. "Who is Lupa?"

An explosion shakes the building. Just outside, a blue mushroom cloud billows up, raining snowflakes and ice like a nuclear blast made of cold instead of heat.

"Maybe this isn't the time for questions," Leo suggests. "Show us the goddess."

Once inside, Jason seems to get his bearings. The house is built in a giant U, and Jason leads them between the two wings to an outside courtyard with an empty reflecting pool. At the bottom of the pool, just as Jason had described from his dream, two spires of rock and root tendrils had cracked through the foundation.

One of the spires is much bigger — a solid dark mass about twenty feet high, and to (Y/n) it looks like a stone body bag. Underneath the mass of fused tendrils she can make out the shape of a head, wide shoulders, a massive chest and arms, like the creature is stuck waist deep in the earth. No, not stuck — rising.

On the opposite end of the pool, the other spire is smaller and more loosely woven. Each tendril is as thick as a telephone pole, with so little space between them that Leo doubts he could've gotten his arm through. Still, he can see inside. And in the center of the cage stands Tia Callida.

She looks exactly like Leo remembers: dark hair covered with a shawl, the black dress of a widow, a wrinkled face with glinting, scary eyes.

She doesn't glow or radiate any sort of power. She looks like a regular mortal woman, his good old psychotic babysitter.

(Y/n) drops into the pool and approaches the cage. "Hera, you in a little bit of trouble?"

Hera crosses her arms and sighs in exasperation. "Don't you dare talk to me that way, Jackson! Get me out of here!"

"My brother soloed Ares, maybe I should whoop your ass, too," (Y/n) replies.

Thalia steps next to her and looks at the cage with distaste — or maybe she is looking at the goddess. "We tried everything we could think of, but maybe my heart wasn't in it. If it was up to me, I'd just leave her in there."

"Oh, Thalia Grace," the goddess says. "When I get out of here, you'll be sorry you were ever born."

"Save it!" Thalia snaps. "You've been nothing but a curse to every child of Zeus for ages. \bu sent a bunch of intestinally challenged cows after my friend Annabeth —"

"She was disrespectful!"

"You dropped a statue on my legs."

"It was an accident!"

"Bullshit!" (Y/n) replies.

"And you took my brother!" Thalia's voice cracks with emotion. "Here — on this spot. You ruined our lives. We should leave you to Gaea!"

"Hey," Jason intervenes. "Thalia — Sis — I know. But this isn't the time. You should help your Hunters."

Thalia clenches her jaw. "Fine. For you, Jason. But if you ask me, she isn't worth it." Thalia turns, leaps out of the pool, and storms from the building.

Leo turns to Hera with grudging respect. "Intestinally challenged cows?"

"Focus on the cage, Leo," she grumbles. "And Jason — you are wiser than your sister. I chose my champion well."

"I'm not your champion, lady," Jason says. "I'm only helping you because you stole my memories and you're better than the alternative. Speaking of which, what's going on with that?" He nods to the other spire that looks like the king-size granite body bag. Was (Y/n) imagining it, or had it grown taller since they'd gotten here?

"That, Jason," Hera says, "is the king of the giants being reborn."

"Gross," Piper comments.

"Indeed," Hera agrees. "Porphyrion, the strongest of his kind. Gaea needed a great deal of power to raise him again — my power. For weeks I've grown weaker as my essence was used to grow him a new form."

"So you're like a heat lamp," Leo guesses.

"Or fertilizer," (Y/n) grins.

The goddess glares at them. "Joke all you wish," Hera says in a clipped tone. "But at sundown, it will be too late. The giant will awake. He will offer me a choice: marry him, or be consumed by the earth. And I cannot marry him. We will all be destroyed. And as we die, Gaea will awaken."

Leo frowns at the giant's spire. "Can't we blow it up or something?"

"Without me, you do not have the power," Hera says. "You might as well try to destroy a mountain."

"Done that once today," Jason replies.

"Just hurry up and let me out!" Hera demands.

Jason scratches his head. "Leo, can you do it?"

"I don't know." Leo tries not to panic. "Besides, if she's a goddess, why hasn't she busted herself out?"

Hera paces furiously around her cage, cursing in Ancient Greek. "Use your brain, Leo Valdez. I picked you because you're intelligent. Once trapped, a god's power is useless. Your own father trapped me once in a golden chair. It was humiliating! I had to beg — beg him for my freedom and apologize for throwing him off Olympus."

"Sounds fair," Leo says.

Hera movies him the godly stink-eye. "I've watched you since you were a child, son of Hephaestus, because I knew you could aid me at this moment. If anyone can find a way to destroy this abomination, it is you."

"But it's not a machine. It's like Gaea thrust her hand out of the ground and . . ." Leo feels dizzy. The line of their prophecy comes back to him: The forge and dove shall break the cage."Hold on. I do have an idea. Piper, I'm going to need your help. And we're going to need time."

The air turns brittle with cold. The temperature drop so fast, Leo's lips crack and his breath changes to mist. Frost coats the walls of the Wolf House. Venti rush in — but instead of winged men, these are shaped like horses, with dark storm-cloud bodies and manes that crackle with lightning. Some have silver arrows sticking out of their flanks. Behind them came red-eyed wolves and the six-armed Earthborn.

Piper draws her dagger. Jason grabs an ice-covered plank off the pool floor. (Y/n) summons Tsunami; Leo reaches into his tool belt, but he is so shaken up, all he produces is a tin of breath mints. He shoves them back in, hoping nobody had noticed, and draws a hammer instead.

One of the wolves pads forward. It is dragging a human-size statue by the leg. At the edge of the pool, the wolf opens its maw and drops the statue for them to see — an ice sculpture of a girl, an archer with short spiky hair and a surprised look on her face.

"Thalia!" Jason rushes forward, but Piper and Leo pull him back. The ground around Thalia's statue was already webbed with ice. Leo fears if Jason touched her, he might freeze too.

"Who did this?" Jason yells. His body crackled with electricity. "I'll kill you myself!"

From somewhere behind the monsters, Leo hears a girl's laughter, clear and cold. She steps out of the mist in her snowy white dress, a silver crown atop her long black hair. She regards them with those deep brown eyes Leo had thought were so beautiful in Quebec.

Word Count: 6200 words

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mark Sumner at Daily Kos:

From the moment Vice President Kamala Harris became the Democratic Party’s nominee for president, Donald Trump has been engaged in an effort to “other” her, or portray her as somehow not a real American. That campaign consists of Trump attacking Harris’ racial identity, demeaning her intelligence, and calling her a “communist.” As The Washington Post reports, Trump has also questioned where Harris “came from,” then tied this question to false claims that her Jamaican father is a “Marxist.”  All of this is a reminder that Trump entered Republican politics by lying about former President Barack Obama’s citizenship. Then he rode into office in 2016 on a wave of racism and xenophobia. Then he spent his time in office telling American congresswomen of color to “go back” to where they came from.  Trump won by ditching the GOP’s usual racist dog whistle for a bullhorn, but Republicans are now dutifully lining up to express their concern about Trump being a “showman.” They've taken to Fox News’ airwaves to plead for Trump to “stick to the issues” and to stop whining about crowd sizes and belittling Harris’ intellect.  But here’s the thing about all of these Republicans: They’re lying. None of them expect—or even want—Trump to do anything but pick up that bullhorn and yell louder.

Republicans know that Trump isn’t capable of holding even the simplest conversation about policy. His recent “economic speech” rapidly disintegrated into shaking boxes of Tic Tacs and hating on windmills. That’s the best he can do, even with days to prepare and a teleprompter on his side. But it’s more than that, because the GOP’s actual positions are horrific. There’s a reason no one wants to be connected to Project 2025 or a Republican Party platform that calls for mass deportation, destroying the Department of Education, and another huge tax break for billionaires. These are not ideas that Republicans want Americans to think about too deeply.  The whole “I wish Trump would talk about the issues” message is a smokescreen.  Trump made his way to the top of the Republican slag pile by being the most vocal advocate of racism, xenophobia, and gender politics. And after eight years of Trumpism, all that’s left of the Republican Party is the policies that are based on these hatreds.

Donald Trump knows nothing other than gratuitous insults against Kamala Harris.

[shadovan]

<not Bik>

There is a book on the doorstep of the tower. It reads: Sex and Inventive Applications of Ordinary Magic Spells.

Definitely not Bik leaving him gifts

When he found the book waiting for him at the door of the tower, Tareque began to question if he had signed up for some flavor of book club that he couldn’t remember subscribing to. Regardless, he picked up the text, looking it over… then chuckled.

“Well… Beshaba’s tits…” This would certainly come in useful, that was for sure!

He raised a hand to amplify his voice like a bullhorn as he yelled out into the open mountains around him. “Thank you!!”

[arcplaysgames]

WARNING LEVEL : BEIGE

love the camouflage, he could blend right into the walls here

Bro, I was not born yesterday, I know an obfuscating stupidity tactic when I see one. You got Jake English vibes. Except you're not as handsome.

Can't believe I agree with Ryuji about something. Other than dunking on Mishima. Thus far, my relationship with Ryuji is predicated on mutual dunking on other people. Which, i think a friendship supported by negativity is doomed to failure but hey we'll take what we can get here.

Akechi is apparently a frequent daytime talk show guest because he's a Detective Prince. Another Detective Prince. Not nearly as cute as the other one, obviously.

He's fond of the concept of the Phantom Thieves (or so he claims, i don't believe a word out of his mouth) but also thinks subverting the law to enact vigilante justice is Fucked TBH.

Which, lmao, he ain't wrong, given Ryuji's attitude.

.... why are you winking at me, holmes

oh my god ryuji can you take two steps back and realize you have been sniffing like a bloodhound lookin for someone to punish and just how sketch that is, like i'm on our side bc its literally the conceit of the game but even i know your boundless enthusiasm for finding targets feels Weird. like, he fully has a point and you could do with an injection of chill.

oh, bruh, the last video game character who quoted Hegel at me got thoroughly shot all the way to death, you may wanna slow that roll.

oh thank god finally a good justice pick after Child Who Wants To Do A Murder and Child Who Just Wants Her Dad To Come Home Twice A Week

what kind of Justice are you going to bring, Akechi? are you a laws-of-the-land guy or are you a justice-must-be-done guy? one of the VERY FEW things I know about this game is that ppl are mega horny for you so I'm hoping you've got some edge to you, beige boy

MEANWHILE, I AM GOING TO FIND MISHIMA'S HOUSE AND I'M GOING TO THROW HIS LAPTOP OUT A WINDOW. Mishima, sit your ass down and study for your college exams and don't do shit.

back at school, Ryuji is doing everything but showing up in his full fucking Skull outfit with a bullhorn going "HELLO I AM A PHANTOM THIEF" so Ann walks up and smacks him upside the head

Ann, thank you. for real, you're the best.

THEN LIL MISS STUDENT PRESIDENT STALKER COMES OVER AND TAKES A PICTURE. girl put your phone away or I will smash it, I am getting REAL tired of your shit too.

he was a good teacher until that day?

he was a good teacher until that day?!

oooooooooh guuuuurl

wow

I don't say this lightly because I tend to be a "bitch (positive)" sort of person

but Makoto, you are a bitch. and frankly there are other words I could say about your character but you aren't worth the effort. go back to hiding behind a magazine and being useless.

cry me a fucking river, goddamn

'gee why didn't you stop your bestie from trying to kill herself after the teacher who WAS A GOOD TEACHER UNTIL THAT DAY drove her to throw herself off the roof' you're reprehensible, makoto, and if you join the party at some point, you're on the fucking bench

fuckin mishima and makoto having a fistfight to determine who gets to be the most unlikable character in this fucking game, who will win???????