#but then just calling it a dream doesn't feel right because it created fear if only for a few moments

[nexus-nebulae]

we need a good word for dreams that are scary in the moment but just objectively funny when you wake up

[thatfrailsoul]

(these beautiful pictures are from Pinterest - I will leave the links to them at the end of this post for anyone interested ♡).

Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you and in which pile it hides... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that whenever you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

_

_

Pile one, the fool

Their heart, their soul, feels simply so warm and familiar. So sweet and loving that just a thought about them brings back your smile and hope. Coming into your life out of nowhere, they were able so fast to find space just for them and their light and pure soul. They mesmerize you, they inspire you. As no one really did before. Not to this point...

And there is a reason behind it, behind this pure joy in finding them and that lingering fear that what you've shared until now is all that there is in store for this bond. A reason that you already know and feel in your heart and that will keep you side by side through months, years, decades. Giving an opportunity and help for this connection to grow, adapting to all the phases of your lives, all the ups and downs, surviving through them all.

There is for sure a new beginning, a creation of a much deeper bond, or to be exact an evolution and growth of this one. But there are also many and many others that you don't expect now and that are hidden in the situations and moments in your life that you will go through or observe, as they and you will live them on your own. But both always staying here, with eyes focused on the person that it's already so precious for your souls. And ready to help and hold each others hands without any question, judgment or pity. Ready to support each other's journeys and ideas, dreams, no matter how scary those steps might look like for an uncertain and anxious mind.

All of this... simply because you are indeed a family. Perhaps not by blood, but surely by heart.

_

Pile two, four of wands

It is not a secret for you and them, all those ways that the time and this world keeps challenging your connection again and again. Your hearts one against the other.

But it's also not a secret that you are still and always by each other's side. The life bringing you back one to another, no matter what happens or how much your paths are being divided.

And what happened in all this time up until now... Is reflected by your future too. How much this bond will be able to help you to overcome, how much it will push you to grow and mature through all the ups and downs that characterize a connection. But remaining always the same and old safe place... so familiar and stable in the way nothing seems to be able to tear you apart or change the way you feel about eachother. A safe person that will always welcome you back no matter what.

Even if it will not become something more... Perhaps making it so pure and precious exactly because of that.

_

Pile three, ace of pentacles

They will come to you when you will least expect it. When you already surrendered to loving and appreciating the connection that you were able to create the way it is... They will come to you, surprising you with an opportunity for something more... But not quite what you hoped it to be.

And it will be simply so difficult to find the right way to handle things and them, their new feelings, and the shift that will arrive all of the sudden in your life... It will take time to accept it, accept them, and let go of that desire and hope for more. And especially of the frustration.

But it will pass, as everything does. And your heart will find peace, even reassurance, understanding at last that what they propose doesn't necessary need to be the end of your connection, only because it's different from what you hoped for... But it's actually its salvation.

A chance to still have them in your life, share many more beautiful and precious moments. Perhaps becoming someone even more important and present in each other's lives through many more days and nights.

_

(links to the pictures used in this reading)

_

[tarotwithavi]

Letter from your shadow side

What does your shadow side wants to tell you?

Piles : 1-2-3

Masterlist

Paid services

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself. Open your eyes and the first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Leave a note to support!

Pile 1

Dear me,

What do you need to release? Why are you still attracted to those situations/people when you know they are of no use? Why can't you move on? First you let people come to you then you trust them with all your heart and when they betray you, you cut yourself out even from the people who genuinely care for you. The problem is not others at this point, you need to change your mentality. Not everyone you meet is going to stay in your life forever. Not everyone you meet is good for you and not everyone you meet is bad for you. People come and go and you need to learn it. Why do you get so attached to people when you can clearly see their intentions. You need to find balance in life. You need to learn whom to trust and whom to not. Life is a mix of happiness and joy and sadness and betrayal. You fear change so much that you're prohibiting yourself from getting your blessings. Learn to accept change and learn how to move on.

Masterlist

Pile 2

Dear me

Why do you get so triggered when someone points out your mistakes? Accept that you're human and human make mistakes. Forgive yourself for not being perfect because I know you're trying your best. Your putting on your best show to please others but what about yourself? You can't lie to yourself. You can fool others but you can't fool yourself. You need to be true to yourself. If you feel tired take a rest, if you feel like crying cry your heart out, if you feel neglected say it out loud. Don't hold your emotions inside or else you'll blast. Express yourself. Be your unapologetic self. You think differently that's why people can't understand you. People hate what they can't understand. You have big dreams and trust me you'll fulfill each of them , you just need to take a leap of faith. There's nothing wrong in being different. I know you feel as if your own family doesn't understand you but remember how would other know you when you don't know yourself? And I'm not talking about your fake self that you created for people, I'm talking about your true self.

Masterlist

Pile 3

Dear me

Why do you so defensive when someone approaches you? Why can't you see how special you are? Why you do compare your current self to your past self? A lot have changed. I know your past isn't the best but you are not who you were few years ago. Just look at yourself and how much you have changed. So when someone compares you to your past self just think that person isn't anymore. And you are not that person. You need to have trust in yourself and trust the process. Everything will work out in your favour. Try to write out your feelings if you can't express them. Just write it out and burn it. You are already doing great. You are like a black cat. People call you bad luck but in reality you're nothing like that. You are the luckiest for yourself. You need to get in tune with your inner diva your inner child. Do the things you used to love as a child. Draw, paint, Dance and learn.

Masterlist

[mikuni14]

I know I keep talking about Tharn and how wonderful he is, but I also have to say something about Phaya. Who is, on reflection, a perfect example of a "manly man"✨, the main character of an action movies, who works for me for once. He's also one of the few action/adventure/crime MLs that I find really hot and attractive, something other productions almost never achieve. Why? Because - I say this only from my perspective - what the producers THINK will be attractive to me is completely different from what I actually FIND attractive.

Phaya is a classic male hero, but he takes classic patterns of masculinity and reworks them in his own way.

Phaya looks very masculine, but in a way that I like. He's muscular, but not too much. His muscles were developed through martial arts training, sparring, something that is related to his hobby and work, not worked out just for being muscular. We see him determined and focused when he goes through training, but he also has fun sparring with his friends, instructors, WITH THARN (that's a completely different story 🔥). We see that he likes healthy competition, that he has ambitions, but he is focused on improving himself, not on proving to others that he is better than them. Phaya has a healthy approach to his body, to competition and to sports.

I like that Phaya takes care of himself, that he tries to look good (especially for his crush), BUT AT THE SAME TIME he has no qualms about finding the most embarrassing matching shirts and persuading said crush to put them on and casually stroll around the tourist area town, looking like a funny, old married couple. Phaya has a healthy attitude towards his appearance and how people perceive him (he doesn't give a fuck). The most important thing is that Tharn is by his side. In a matching shirt.

I like how active and task-oriented Phaya is, that he recognizes his own or any other problems and just does something about them. Suspicious murder? Phaya starts ivestigating. Strange dreams? Phaya has been researching it all his life, now he's going to the place where he can find answers. Tharn is not answering his calls? Phaya doesn't get offended, he doesn't create scenarios in his head, he just goes to Tharn, confronts him and comes up with a creative way to relax the stressed Tharn. Phaya acts, does research, has no qualms about asking for help and accepting help. Phaya is a pack animal, not this lone wolf bullshit.

I absolutely love how open Phaya is with his feelings, with himself. Friends? Grandmother? The Abbot? THARN? Phaya doesn't hide anything. When Tharn asks if he's feeling ok at the festival, Phaya tells him about his troubling feelings, he doesn't hide behind a straight face and "I'm fine." Phaya is not afraid or ashamed of his feelings or talking about them. Or admitting weakness, feeling bad or even fear.

what deserves a special mention is how open Phaya is about his interest in Tharn - towards Tharn and the rest of the world. Phaya is like "Tharn, I'm so interested in you and I want you to know it". And if anyone else sees this, it's not his and Tharn's problem, it's the world's problem, because Phaya is too busy with Tharn, who is all delicious right there, to worry about the rest of the world. Phaya is a grown man who knows what he wants and currently wants Tharn and to be a good cop and solve the mystery of his dreams and he will not waste his energy and time on proving his worth or anything else to the world.

Phaya has his own life BEYOND the romanse. He has a job, ambitions, a family, a home, his art, interests, and his own personal problems to face. Tharn is a part of his life, a new part, because Phaya existed as a person before Tharn.

I also like how Phaya treats his sexuality, namely he is completely ordinary and normal about it 😀 No issues, no trauma, no internal conflicts, no "finding himself", no crisis. I like the fact that he is pushy with Tharn, and although I'm normally not a big fan of kisses "without warning", it doesn't bother me in this case because Phaya is completely aware that Tharn likes him "that way". Tharn is flirting heavily with Phaya and they already had their almost kiss, so Phaya didn't cross the line with him. Besides, Tharn is also a grown man who can read Phaya's intentions, and he kissed him first - twice 😂 Phaya's sexuality is not a problem in this story, he is very simple about it.

Phaya is the kind of action hero that simply suits me. He seems to fit the type: he's aggressive, cocky, talented, smart, inventive, handsome and athletic. But he is also - in a quite ordinary way- nice, caring, friendly, supportive and helpful. He doesn't put himself in the center, he doesn't make everything about himself. He's also very funny, doesn't take himself seriously, can be a classic dudebro, goes to parties where he plays stupid games 🍾 and he is open with his feelings. He is naturally, effortlessly cool, but sometimes he is a bit pathetic and doesn't get everything right.

For me, Phaya is Phaya from the scene in the tub of icy water, hugging and supporting Tharn (because he wants BOTH of them to pass this test), it is Phaya from the scene in the bathroom, super sensitive to Tharn's mood, it is Phaya visiting tourist attractions with his crush and tucking him in to sleep. This is Phaya knowing when he can allow himself more with Tharn and knowing when to stop. This is Phaya who doesn't lie to Tharn, who seduces him, gives him time, gives him space, but at the same time leaves no doubt about how he feels about him and makes sure that Tharn is aware of it. It's Phaya intoxicated by Tharn's closeness and also coming up with cute nicknames for him.

Phaya is a classic model of masculinity without all the toxic, violent, stupid alpha bullshit, but with self-awareness, true personal freedom, the ability to function in a relationship, a family, a team, society, readiness for self-development and emotional maturity. He is a natural leader who can apologize to his teammates. Phaya redefined the male action hero type and I love him for it 💖

[tarotwithlove]

PICK A CARD ೕ what aspect of your life is taking up too much of your attention?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · two of swords (reversed), ace of pentacles, eight of cups, eight of swords (reversed), the fool (reversed).

songs · my dil goes mmmm by vishal-shekhar. nowadays by leo. cha ching by slayyyter.

my dear group one ♡ you are at a crossroads right now, stagnating as you are made to choose between doing what you love or doing what you need to do. you may be in a relationship at the moment, with someone who you see as a big part of your future; maybe even with someone who you can see settling down and one day marrying.

but now, as you are faced with an academic or career opportunity that could tear you two apart, you are finding yourself only more confused and conflicted than ever. languishing in life because of your inability to choose one or the other.

for some, of course, this is not a romantic connection. instead, you may feel as if you are finally setting down roots in a city and can finally call a place home.

in both cases, this opportunity could uproot your life as you know it… and you want both so badly—the comfort of love and home AND the excitement of an opportunity you had worked so hard for—that now, when it comes time to take action and make a decision, you are unable.

this is the aspect of your life that is taking up too much of your attention, right now. you are so focused on making the right decision that you do not even see which decision is the best one for you. it is important to recenter yourself in this situation, dear. to make yourself the priority as you decide and not the fear of how others will react to your decision. you must also know—and i say this not to scare you, but to make sure you are fully aware—that time is running out. opportunities do not wait for you.

if you continue to put off making this decision, this opportunity will pass you by. would you rather lose out on this because you were too scared to make a decision or let it go because you are deciding to prioritise other things at this point in your life? it’s time to step up, dear, even though it is hard.

in all truth, there is no reason for this to be taking up so much of your time and attention because, if you actually sat down with yourself, you would realise that the decision is far easier to make than you thought.

GROUP TWO

cards · two of wands (reversed), the hermit, two of swords, the tower, the moon.

songs · alien superstar by beyoncé. shattered dreams by earl sweatshirt. bon acteur by lous and the yakuza. 

my dear group two ♡ you are focusing so much on an imagined negative outcome that you do not even see, one, how you may possibly be stunting your very chance to have your desired outcome, and two, all the inklings of divine blessing and guidance by which you are surrounded. 

you may have started to isolate yourself, or to try and convince yourself that you are no longer working towards this big goal, all in a bid to make yourself better in the case that all your plans fail and nothing works out as you have hoped. you want this dream to be a reality, but you are so focused on how it may never be, that you are only pushing it further and further and further away from you.

and not entirely in a “your thoughts create your reality way”… but… don’t they? if you think that your efforts will be wasted, will you give it your all? if you think that faith is futile, will you believe in the possibility of your own success? if you believe that there is no point in hope because everything could just collapse around you at any moment, will you be hopeful even when you don’t see things physically working out in your favour? likely not. 

as things are at this moment, you are the two of swords between the two of wands in reverse with the hermit and the tower with the moon. you cannot know the outcome of either path beyond that one has a future for you, and one does not.

it is time to focus less on chasing after the everyday ordinary and time to start taking concrete steps towards fulfilling this dream, instead of making plans with which you do not follow through. take that acting class, that ballet class, those singing lessons. put on youtube and build a practice of your craft that way. 

dear, it is time to stop standing in your own way. 

GROUP THREE

cards · six of swords (reversed), ace of pentacles, nine of wands, judgement (reversed), death.

songs · hold me like a grudge by fall out boy. bug like an angel by mitski. i am my own muse by fall out boy.

my dear group three ♡ you may be going backwards in your progress, or be at a stage in your journey where you are faced with the often cyclical nature of healing, progress, and your own thoughts. where you are being faced with the truth that “progress is not linear”. your life, at the moment, may feel completely out of your control—especially with regard to money and your future.

right as i typed that sentence, the line, “i’m just trying to keep it together, but it gets a little harder when it never gets better,” from i am my own muse by fall out boy suddenly caught my attention likely because that is the best way to describe your current circumstances as well as how you feel about your current circumstances. 

everything around you feels so out of your control, so you have turned all your attention inward and onto the only thing you know for certain you can control—your body. as well as, to some extent, your self in an entirety.

you may be calling this a wellness, health, or fitness journey, only to be masking the truth that you are slipping into (or slipping back into) some negative habits as you do anything to exert some of that control you so desperately need to have in your life. well, anything to your body and yourself, that is. you may constantly be thinking about your body; what you are eating, how you are looking at any given moment, the weight you have gained and the weight you have lost, and so on and so forth…

there does not seem to be any way out of this cycle for you, likely because you are not allowing yourself to see it as something that could possibly be detrimental to you down the road. or because you are willing to take on the risks if it allows you distraction, control, and the chance of meeting your body goals in equal parts.  

you may say that the risk you are taking is calculated, but only because you are not being entirely honest with yourself about what these risks could potentially be. and that’s not a judgment on you, just the truth. 

GROUP FOUR

cards · page of wands (reversed), nine of pentacles, eight of cups (reversed), ten of cups (reversed), justice. 

songs · no manners by superm. rose by d.o. hypocrates by marina. timeless by nct. 

my dear group four ♡ as soon as i began pulling your cards, what i feel is the most important message came through for you… there is no going back. as much as you hold onto the past, you can never return to it.

as much you regret something you did or something you said or something you let go, there is nothing that simply wallowing in melancholy will do.

you are so focused on the past, but you cannot live there. your life is happening around you now, and it is a life that you are, to an extent, missing out on because of how much more attention you are paying to people, places, and situations that have passed. 

it is time, dear, to make peace with the past and the life you could not have—which, for some, is a relationship with a specific person. making peace is not easy… oftentimes it comes with having to be honest with yourself in ways you never want to be.

but it is time to take action so that you may live your life in the present once more. and action will look different for every person; for some, it may be trying again, for some it may be confrontation, for some, it may be walking away onto better things. and while it will differ from person to person, the truth is that thinking about the past without doing anything about it is not doing you any favours. 

you may come out on the other end with fresh eyes, seeing the people around you for who they are and not the ideas of who they are that you have been holding on to. 

whatever the outcome, dear, it is time to make peace with the past and the life you wish you could have lived so that you may live the life that is unfolding around you at this very moment.  

[overandundertarot]

Message from your spirit guides.

Your spirit guides have a message for you; choose a pile to find out what it is!

Piles; 1-2(top row) 3-4(bottom row)

Pile 1; Page of wands reversed, 10 of wands, 7 of cups reversed.

You aren't being serious enough. You're too energetic right now and too playful, only chasing instant gratification. You are curretly procrastinating something because it feels too overwhelming and burdensome. Your spirit guides are telling you to get up off your butt and work towards making your dreams a reality. The things that will bring you actual results won't feel easy and simple. This has been going on for a while and it may feel exhausting but just keep pushing, you're almost there! They are really proud of you!

Pile 2; The moon reversed, 2 of swords reversed, 9 of swords.

Pile 2 you're experiencing a lot of mental confusion lately. You could be experiencing poor concentration, idleness, brainfog, anxiety and executive dysfunction. The fears, doubts and anxieties you have are stemming from something that is unclear to you. Your spirit guides are telling you that it's not all as it seems. You may be exacerbating your situation and allowing it to affect you to a degree that is more serious than the situation really is. A lot of this anxiety is because you're overthinking and overanalysing but you still haven't reached a point of clarity. You could be procrasting because you are a perfectionist and don't want to dissapoint yourself, but also not doing anyhting creates feelings of self loathing. Honestly, you need to take a break right now and then come back and look at the situation again; this time seeking the truth, and using that as a strating point for your thoughts and process.

Pile 3; The devil, Queen of wands, Queen of pentacles.

You are on top of everything right now pile 3. You are independent and thriving right now but there is something that's tempting you. It may feel a bit much sometimes but you love the chase. The temptation is a conflict of sorts, it may present like a challenge that you want to conquer because you have the confidence that you will come out on top; like a test of strength. Go for it and continue to believe in yourself! There may be some lesbians or bi women and femmmes in this pile. This is a very healing time for you; you are reaping the rewards of your labour. Your spirit guides hold you in very high regard and are very proud of who you are and your strength. You are very connected to your intuition and the spiritual realm,some of you have been feeling the call to look deeper into this side of yourself. You have a seductive aura, and your appearence may be very different from your personality; it may come as a shock to people. You could be looking to explore your sexual side, your guides are saying it's fine but remember to exercise your bodily autonomy. Don't do anything that doesn't feel 100% right. Also, this is a time of independence for you, a commited relationship is ill advised(specific message for someone regarding a masculine energy)

Pile 4; Ace of wands, 2 of wands, Queen of swords.

Pile 4 you are clinging to something that happened to you in the past. It may also be clinging on to you(It could be resurfacing right now). You've tried to move on but something always stopped you or you never found the strength. The trauma usually manifests for you as inaction/feling hollow/depression or lashing out at people as a defence mechanism. You're being advised to have a change of scenery, also to look into seeking support from the people around you. Your guides are saying that a chapter is ending for you, it was painful but it's time to shake off the sorrow and look towards a new future. Allow yourself to be hopeful. Specific message for someone is to get help from a doctor regarding their fertility issues.

That's it! Thanks for participating in this pick-a-card reading!!

*The images are not mine, I found them on pinterest!

[beyonsatan]

My next astrology post was gonna be about the chart ruler in astrology but I just saw a tik tok about pisces that received the ugliest laugh from me and so decided that i will be talking about pisces and after closing the casket on a few stereotypes and western astrologers who have absolutely no idea what they're talking about yet charge for readings, I'm gonna hurt some feelings haha 😁...

So let's create a list of the misleading stereotypes that modern astrology have successfully managed to attach to pisces and then i'm going to debunk a few or all in order and I'm going to do this in the most polite way :)

• Ditzy (you might've heard "pisces is debilitated in mercury so it makes sense why pisces aren't the smartest or are 'easily fooled'" WRONGGGGG! In fact, ancient astrologers believed that pisces was in its detriment while in mercury because you can't think properly when you're in love. Venus the planet of love feels the strongest in Pisces, venus is pisces dignified ruler, pisces is the only sign that's dignified in both benefics (Venus, Jupiter) so if you asked me what sign i think is the most in love with love i would say with confidence pisces. This is why often when you hear a pisces talking about something or someone they love they stumble over their words. Contradictory to popular belief, pisces are very intuitive and can spot people trying to take advantage of their giving nature. A person who is intuitive and knows when something is up is not dumb, being both intuitive and gullible is already a contradiction. Saying that a jupiter (planet of wisdom) ruled sign is dumb does not fit the bill or even make sense for that matter. Mercury In sagittarius is debilitated as well but not because sagittarius is stupid, gullible or can't reason but because sagittarius is the jokester and is all about exposing the truth and their delivery is usually harsh which can rub people the wrong way. It's all about the delivery with them, there can be instances of blurting out things at the wrong time, things that would be considered offensive, that doesn't necessarily translate to them being dumb, they're just blunt lol. A good example of this would be nicki minaj

• escapists (the only true one I have actually heard so far but I also think that the stigma around escapism needs be brought to a stop. Pisces is dignified In both benefics so they do not prefer to indulge in things that are meant to discourage them like fear, anger, self doubt and turmoil so in order to keep themselves on their feet they distract themselves with things that are meant to inspire or otherwise entertain them to keep them going. This claim that they get consumed by their fantasies, can't face reality or take decisive action is a myth and stems from this idea that certain aspirations or wish fulfillments are out of reach and too unrealistic to be put into plan. so while everyone else is doing only what's within their reach thinking things can't get any better for them, pisces is dreaming big and this is where people can often confuse delusion with staying optimistic. How wise would it be to call someone "stupid" or "an escapist" because they're choosing to see the bright side of a situation or not succumbing to negative emotions? Not very wise at all right? Out of every zodiac sign I would argue that pisces is the most likely to recover from difficult times Because the benefics always keep them in good spirit

• drug addicts (i just wanna say that if you've ever gotten a paid reading from an astrologer who has said up out their mouth that "pisces is the most suspectible to drug and alcohol abuse," you have been scammed and should request your money back, these astrologers either think that pisces is ruled by neptune or they think having pisces placements is the same as having 12th house placements, ps: it is NOT the same and they CERTAINLY do not make you more artsy, dreamy and whatever other terms ppl use to deem pisces.) the 12th house is where you can see some unhealthy habits and addictions, that is true but once again pisces does not rule over the 12th house nor does pisces get its meaning from this house and anyone that told you otherwise lied 💞

• poor self esteem (I'm not even about to dignify this imbecilic talking point with a lengthy response 💀 if pisces was a sign with poor self esteem, the sign wouldn't be comfortable in the planet that literally rules over our values and self esteem, 'venus' lol)

• compulsively lie ( one more attribute that came from neptune. I'm not gonna say pisces is perfect but alot of these stereotypes aren't really aligning with jupiterian and Venusian energy) you wouldn't lie to a person that you truly love (venus) and you wouldn't be able to easily fool someone who is wise(Jupiter) does that make better sense to yall??) Why do you think it makes sense for a zodiac sign that's notorious for their contempt of lies and deceit(Scorpio) to be compatible with a sign that modern astrology famously dubs as "liars" that doesn't make sense either does it? Of course not, cause it's not true lmao, every sign is capable of lying.

Summary: Once you register through your mind that there is no connection between pisces and neptune in astrology, everything that you've learned about pisces through western astrology and their antics automatically vanishes or becomes null and void. There is (and ima highlight 'no' in bold just so yall know how serious i am) NO reason to believe that the oldest sign of the zodiac on record pisces is gullible, stupid, a liar or any of the things I mentioned in the bulletpoints. The infantalizing of pisces in astrology MUST stop and I will do everything my power to make sure it does and that this knowledge reaches everyone, *mic drop*

that's all, hope thiz helps xx

[mosses-gate-3]

How does Andis, Salix and Ren feel about kids? Do they like them, or just find them annoying? Are they any good with kids? Would they ever want kids of their own?

Bonus question: Tell us about their kids if they ever have any!

okokok I did do a similar ask a bit ago with Salix & Andy BUT! I have been thinking a ridiculous amount about regale children

Ren I think is surprisingly good with kids. One of their biggest strengths is keeping a calm, neutral outward appearance in stressful situations, and I think that translates over really well to childcare. They enjoy spending time with the kids at the Grove. As for whether they'd actually want kids of their own:

I don't think they and Gale can physically have bio kids together, nor do they want to. But I was thinking about them and children and a thing came to me.

“So you remember the egg from the creche, yes?” “…The one we put in a bag of holding six years ago and forgot about?” “…Well, I'd say it was less a random choice and more a calculated decision made for the good of the egg and our group, but yes - I've been researching and it’s fascinating, really, Githyanki eggs can incubate for extended amounts of time in the Astral plane due to a number of unique conditions and, theoretically, this property extends to pocket dimensions such as those created by a bag of holding. It’s been a dream of mine to study the precise conditions that make this possible for years–" "Gale, love, didn't you say this was urgent?" "Right! Yes. It’s hatching.” “It’s WHAT.”

...And then they go around frantically calling up Lae'zel and the others, and there's an impromptu six-year-anniversary reunion while they try to figure out how the fuck to take care of an egg baby. Featuring Dadstarion... NOT.

After he's safely born they all have a very long conversation about who should keep it. Wyll and Karlach are the obvious first choice but they're dealing with a lot of change at the moment (Wyll's training to become Grand Duke and they're moving back in to Baldur's Gate and aren't in a place for a baby yet.) Lae'zel is still fighting a civil war, Shadowheart has a lot on her plate already, and I wouldn't trust Astarion anywhere near a baby let alone with CUSTODY of one (see previous). So Ren and Gale keep the child and name him Xan. Look into his dead, soulless eyes.

They all try to stay in his life in some way. Lae'zel visits when she can. Shadowheart is like a cool wine aunt who's always around. Astarion is like a cool wine aunt who's never around. Karlach and Wyll, Wyll especially, are practically co-parenting the kid. He's not in the right situation for kids right now but he will be the best damn babysitter this side of Avernus.

But fear not, because in a couple years the two of them will have kids of their own! DAD WYLL LIVES IN MY BRAIN RENT FREE OKAY. I think their names are Talia and Jayden and they're raised very close with Xan, he sees them as his younger siblings and is very protective of them.

Here's Xan and Jayden! Talia is probably behind them. At this point Xan's about 10, Talia is 7 or so, and Jayden is around 4 or 5.

Xan inherited Gale's expressiveness and tendency to gesticulate, and Ren's logical mind and speech mannerisms. I think he's generally very responsible. Other than that he's hardly similar to his parents at all, he doesn't care for academics much and most likely becomes a melee class later. They're very proud of him anyway; it's probably for the better he didn't turn out Mystra's next Chosen or something.

When he gets older he and his siblings set out to become adventurers! Talia is a cleric of no deity in particular (that is a thing you can do I looked it up apparently the power can just come from something you really believe in) and Jayden's a sorcerer (I have Karlach classed as a wild magic barbarian in my playthrough which is where he gets it from.) Xan is a paladin, I don't know which oath, probably Ancients or Devotion. I'm currently working on aged up designs for them, I'll reblog this with them when I'm done.

That's pretty much all I have so far but this is pretty much what I consider canon after the game, at least in Ren's playthrough! I'm sure they'll be excellent parents. Even if they did forget a literal living baby in their bag of holding for SIX YEARS... But it's fine there was a lot going on. Thank god for the weird githyanki physics I made up.

[cosmichighpriestess]

As I feel my emotions and move through them to become more aware of the pain in my physical vessel I in turn help heal my world and I am able to give more by giving myself the self forgiveness and self love that I needed. We help benefit everyone we are worried about by changing ourselves first because we are one, we are everything, we are the entire Universe and we affect the entire multiverse by changing ourselves. We could all use some good news right now don't you feel that way?

Don't you feel like something is coming? Well I have good news. The apocalypse is not coming. But all your dreams are. You can relax. Breathe. You get to choose whatever timeline feels the best for you. There is not one future, there is not just one Earth, and there is not just one human collective. You shift by changing your vibration. You shift to another planet when you change yourself. The end of the world and doom and gloom predictions will not play out for you. You are too far on the ascending timelines to ever have to worry about being on those dark worlds where they have forgotten their humanity. We want to give you the keys to the kingdom. 🗝️

Because even if you're not ready, you will be soon and you will ascend to the fifth dimension and beyond. That is a guarantee. Here is the curriculum you've given yourself. You must face this challenge to be love in the face of evil, the wicked ones, the evil-doers, the bad guys, the ones who trigger you in real life and behind a screen playing their roles in the dark. Because what are they doing? They are there to trigger you. Once you say, " oh thank you demon, thank you fear, thank you trauma, thank you person pretending to be something they are not which is Source which is love. Thank you for triggering what needed to be triggered within me to heal this trigger. Thank you for reminding me to come back to Source /God. Thank you for reminding me to be forgiving of others who do evil, our oppressors who do unjust things, and to forgive myself for reacting negatively out of character before and giving myself these opportunities to grow."

Now, what I just said may have triggered you. You may be thinking, "Be love to my abusers? Be love to the darkness? HOW? Are you crazy? After what they did? Don't you know what they did to me? To those innocent children and people all over the world hurting people? HOW?" Believe me, I know. It's ridiculous how many people betrayed me. It's ridiculous how abused I was. The state of these evil people is so insane. It's ridiculous how much we saw innocents go through. I know. But, the pain serves a higher divine purpose. What did this pain teach you? It taught you a lot. This is a game. Remember it's a simulation. If you want to move to the next level of the game you must do this: Our oppressors give us the opportunity to be love everyday they do something to oppress us.

We are creating our realities, this is your Earth, your kingdom, you are everything, we are one. That person spewing hate, racism, bigotry, misogyny and anything else that separates us and causes more division, that person or group will not go away just because you pointed out their ignorance and flaws. Instead of focusing on teaching them a lesson, you actually create more of them in your reality. And they become more popular. It doesn't make them go away. It creates more of them. The more we fight, the more your reality responds to that vibration and your oppressors will rise up to be fought. Put your swords down. You don't need them anymore at this level. They used to serve you to protect yourself but now you're ascending to the 5th dimension. There's no war in the fifth dimensional level of consciousness.

The more you love, forgive, and have compassion for them, the more of them will change. The more we judge them and call them negative the more they stay the same. When you accept them completely as they are and you offer forgiveness and compassion to them, that is the only way they will ever change. They will change to reflect the change in you when you lay down your sword and you offer yourself up as a being of unconditional love. And you may be saying "okay, I can do that but what happens to the innocent children and people then if we don't defend and fight for them?" Remember this always. You are always helping yourself whenever you offer love to someone else, someone who is in great need of that love. When you change yourself, you change everything, EVERYTHING, you shift to another parallel Earth version including the number of people being oppressed in your reality. YOU must change, reprogram yourself, forgive yourself first, then you can forgive others if you want to free those innocents who are enslaved, you must change your inner world to see it reflected outwardly.

Why? Because it will give you the opportunity to evolve and not stay stuck in a reality you don't prefer. But you must accept everything and everything in your reality as it is now, and don't judge it negatively, just be neutral to it from there you can create positive change within yourself. Some of you want to impact and help as many people as possible in your lifetime, then all you have to do is be love, that's how you do it because you already are unconditional love you just have to remember that you are Source. The only way to get to a place of self-forgiveness and self-love is by being honest with yourself. So start there and work your way up to having compassion, forgiveness and love for yourself and for others. You are affecting the totality of the entire human collective by forgiving everyone.

That is how you level up, that is how you demonstrate your superpower of forgiveness to the higher dimensions and earn the respect from the entire Universe and change the entire world by changing yourself first. The next step of your Ascension will be so much easier and you will feel so much more peace, ease, love and joy. Do it by being the love you want to see first. Level yourself up and you will be living in the fifth dimension before you know it.

[sarucane]

OFMD Spiral Parallels 51: Pinocchio

Intro: What I love most about how season 2 builds on season 1 of OFMD is the spiral narrative structure. Ground is repeatedly and explicitly re-trod from season 1 to season 2, but in season 2 everything goes deeper than season 1. Meanings are shuffled, emotions are stronger and truer, and transformation is showcased above everything. The first season plucks certain notes, then the second season plucks the same ones--but louder, and then it weaves them together to create a symphony.

---

In the very first episode, Stede reads the crew the conclusion of the story Pinnochio. Stede himself is, very clearly, a stand-in for Pinnochio: he felt like he wasn't "real," in his old life, like he was made of wood. He couldn't truly *feel* when he was swaddled by comfort. As a child, Stede wasn't able to experience life authentically or choose his path because of the abuse and censure he suffered from men and boys.

As an adult, Stede felt isolated within his family, and wasn't able to emotionally engage with them either.

He was wood, and he longed to be flesh--so he went and became a pirate.

But Stede isn't the only one who resonates with the Pinocchio story.

When the crew is considering mutiny, Olu points out that they won't know how the story ends if they kill Stede. And it's a compelling argument: the entire crew joins in demanding that Lucius "do the voices." They may not realize it yet, but they've already been affected by Stede's dreaming. They're already moving along with him into becoming "real," people who are comfortable forming deep emotional bonds and expressing themselves openly to the people around them.

Stede may be dumb in the pilot, but he's actually right: the guys really are actually "sweethearts" deep down, they really are carrying around trauma and hiding things about themselves behind beards and bluster. Piracy really doesn't have to be a "culture of abuse." They don't have to be wooden men.

And then the story returns at the beginning of season 2. And it shows just how much Stede's dreams have outrgrown him.

When Ed's darkness is spreading on the Revenge like a disease, Jim lights a lamp in the darkness for Fang. They don't have to do this. They could have just ignored Fang. But they did, and they used the story of Pinocchio to do it.

It's a very different story than Stede's was. After all, Jim's speaking from memory, telling the story through the lens of their own experience (which is how folktales work, the teller as important as the tale, the context as a key shaper of the story).

And Jim doesn't tell the story well--they accidentally start at the end, after the puppet has become a real boy.

Which is, after all, how they all ended up here. In this pain. They all turned into "real" people last season, and now they have to live with all of that, both the good and the bad. It's no surprise that in Jim's version of the story, Pinocchio is turned into flesh by a dark lord. No one on the Revenge feels like humanity is a gift right now. As Jim tells the Pinocchio story, Ed himself is telling a story about how he could run away from his own humanity, avoid the pain of being a soft "real boy" by never going back to land.

But while the impossibility of Ed's story leaves him balancing over an abyss, Jim and Fang laugh and are connected by their story. Archie is drawn in too, Stede's dream of a better way to live (as a "real" person, made of flesh) growing to include someone he's never even met.

The core of the Pinocchio story--as it is told through OFMD--is hope that people can change. That what people fear is the most immutable part of themselves, their wooden parts, can transform. That they connect with each other, and be accepted as changed.

And that having transformed, their lives will be better. Which is, of course, what happens to everyone by the time these 18 episodes conclude.

At the end of S2, Izzy calls Prince Richie "Pinocchio" when he sees Richie's painted wooden nose. It's fitting: after all, Richie set out to become a "real boy" and failed. Now he thinks he's "the ultimate pirate," but he's not. He's just wood. And Izzy, with his wooden leg binding him to both the past and the future at the same time, can recognize that better than anyone.

But here's the thing: Izzy wasn't there when Stede told the Pinocchio story to his crew, or when Jim told it to Fang. The meaning of this story has deepened and deepened, until it's part of the language of the show.

And when Izzy calls Richie "Pinocchio," everyone laughs in the face of death. Where there's joy and a shared story, there is hope that no darkness lasts forever. The story can go on. They pulled off change once; they can do it again.

[silverstarsimuran]

Intuition

This is one of the short fanfiction dedicated to Tails and Sonic as two wonderful brothers.🥰💕

One night, a thunderstorm began: the wind whistled, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, it rained. All this created a rather creepy atmosphere. Most of the inhabitants of Mobius slept peacefully, not paying attention to the bad weather. Except that there was someone in one house who wasn't sleeping at that time. Sonic the hedgehog was tossing and turning in bed, trying to fall asleep. He had such a good dream where he was running through the Green Hills, rushing at his supersonic speed. But then he suddenly woke up and now he can't go back to sleep to finish a wonderful dream. As if something had woken him up on purpose and wouldn't let him fall asleep. Deciding that he needed a snack, the hedgehog reluctantly got off the bed and left his room. As he walked down the stairs, he noticed that the light was on in the living room. This seemed rather strange to the blue hedgehog, because he remembered exactly that he turned off the light in this room. It is not known whether out of curiosity or a strange feeling that arose in his head again, Sonic headed into the living room. There he saw that the windows were covered with curtains, a book of "Traveler's Stories" lay ajar on the floor, and his adopted younger brother, Tails the fox, was lying on the couch, covered with fluffy tails. He was trembling all over with fear, and Sonic, worried about his friend, approached him.

— Tails, why aren't you sleeping? — he asked him, which made the little fox cry out in fright. Turning around, he calmed down a little when he noticed his brother, and sat down on the sofa, pretending as if nothing had happened.

—Um... I decided... to read a book before going to bed, — the fox cub replied, slightly stammering.

— At this hour? In the middle of the night? — his prickly friend asked him again, raising an eyebrow, he did not believe his best friend's words at all.

— Well, why not? Why aren't you sleeping yourself? — Tails answered the question with a question.

— Something woke me up. I don't know what yet. But it looks like I woke up for a reason, because you obviously need my help.

— Help? I'm OK. Honestly. It's just that I... — Tails tried to justify himself, but after a clap of thunder from outside and a flash of lightning that appeared behind the curtains, the baby screamed and covered himself with his tails again, covering himself with them as a shield. Now Sonic understood what was going on. He sat down next to a small, trembling ball of golden-red fur and began stroking it.

— Hey, it's okay. It's just a thunderstorm. It will end soon,— the hedgehog said gently and calmly, stroking the soft fur of the fox cub. The new thunderclaps did not scare the little fox so much anymore, because his best friend was next to him. Sonic's affection and care helped Tails relax, and he removed his tails and snuggled up to the hedgehog, resting his head on his lap. "It's okay, Tails, I'm here. Everything is fine," he also spoke carefully, continuing to stroke the fluffy baby. After a while, Sonic invited his little friend to go to his room, to which the fox cub gladly agreed. Turning off the light in the living room and putting the book on the coffee table, they went to the hedgehog's room. Already there, Tails suddenly asked:

— Sonic, why did you wake up just when I needed help?

— I had a strange feeling that I should have woken up and gone to the living room.

— Perhaps it was your intuition that worked.

— Intuition? - yes. It is also called the sixth sense. Unlike other senses, little is known about the sixth sense. Unfortunately, science cannot accurately explain this.

— Maybe science doesn't have to explain it? Well, there it is. Why know more? As it is, it looks quite unusual.

— Maybe you're right. And you know what?

— What?

— I'm glad that you came to me at a time when I really needed you. Thank you, Sonic.

— You're welcome. Anyway, you and I are brothers, and brothers don't leave each other in trouble.

— That's right. Good night, Sonic,— Tails yawned and snuggled up to his friend. "And to you, little brother," the hedgehog replied, covering himself and the fox cub with a soft blanket. When Sonic made sure that his younger brother was fast asleep, he smiled and soon also plunged into the land of dreams. And outside the window, at this time, the thunder became quieter and quieter, until it completely subsided. And it was only audible as the raindrops continued to drum on the roof and knock on the glass…

Russian Version

[tsarisfanfiction]

A Single Drachma

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rated: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship Characters: Michael, Clarisse, Chris Alone. Injured. Hunted. Michael doesn't know where he is, but he knows he's running out of time, and he's only got one shot at calling for help. He's got to make it count. I'm a bit late posting it here because rl, but this was a fic written for @pod-together and my podficcer partner for the event was once again the amazing @stereden, who I also worked with for this event last year and once again had an absolute blast with! I pushed the boat out rather further this year in terms of length (there is actually a lot more to this story planned, but it became unrealistic to podfic... that being said I am still hoping to finish writing it at some point, for all that this does currently work as a stand-alone). We both had a lot more free time this year, and we definitely made sure we used it! I've lost count of how many times I've listened to Stereden's various takes on the podfic but it's been so much fun to work with her on this again this year! I was in a massive Michael&Clarisse mood when the event first started, and Stereden is a fantastic enabler who was more than willing to let them be the focus of the plot for our project, so here we are, and I hope you all enjoyed reading and listening to this as much as I did creating it! You can find the podfic to listen to here (go, listen to it! It’s amazing!)

After so long in darkness, the light of the sun was blinding.  Michael’s tolerance for bright lights had always been higher than most, just like his siblings, but as he staggered out onto the street, limping heavily and doing his utmost to ignore the various signals of this fucking hurts different parts of his body were sending to his brain in discordant harmony, his eyes narrowed into a blurry squint.  He stumbled, biting back a curse as his leg protested loudly at the bulk of his weight being forced onto it, and raised a dirty, shaking hand to shade his watering eyes from the worst of the glare.

Where was he?

With a wince he couldn’t hold back, he limped a few steps forwards, impatiently waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, until he almost collided with a wall.  Knocking his shoulder - the less-bad one, the one that was only bruised and not taunting him with fears of dislocation - against it, he awkwardly shuffled until he was leaning heavily against the painted brickwork, shifting his weight until it was off of his right leg.

It still had the audacity to fucking hurt, and Michael could feel his left leg trembling from the strain, less injured but no less exhausted than the rest of his body, but there was nothing he could do about it except lean harder on his shoulder, shoving as much of his weight as possible onto the building.

He needed to keep moving; he knew that.  His arm stung, his newest injury still bleeding sluggishly.  Michael could hear the slow yet steady drip, drip, drip of the liquid onto the ground.  He’d run out of useable fabric to tear into makeshift bandages a while back - his clothes were in tatters, and stained with so many things he didn’t want to think about that using them to wrap an open wound was probably begging for a dose of tetanus, as though he needed any more problems on top of everything he had already.

Leaning against the building was the most relief he’d had in days, though, and Michael was at loathe to give it up.  He glanced towards the sun again, still blindingly bright and near-impossible to look at.  Hi, Dad, he thought, his mental tone somewhere between bitterness and despair.  Apollo hadn’t contacted him for a long time, not since the night before they left for Manhattan, and Michael missed his father’s dream visits.  He didn’t understand why they’d stopped - he’d feared, for a while, that Apollo had fallen to Typhon , that despite the lack of Kronos stomping around suggesting that they’d won the war his father had been lost for good.

Deep down, he still feared that - despite the freak saying things to the contrary - because if it wasn’t true, if Apollo hadn’t been destroyed, then that meant his father had been ignoring all of his pleas for help.

Apollo had been answering him reliably since he was a small kid, before he’d even realised the guy he dreamed about frequently was real and his father.  There was no good reason for him to have stopped.

And yet he had.

Where the fuck are you, Dad? he thought at the sun.  And where the fuck am I?

He lowered his hand, squinting against the bright light of the sun as it inflicted a fresh assault on his eyeballs, and took stock of his surroundings.

It was some sort of side street.  Not enclosed enough to be an alley but no major thoroughfare - Michael could see a busier street, if he squinted against the shadows and too-bright sun hard enough, running perpendicular to the end of the street he was in.  People passed through with purpose, none of them batting an eyelid at a messy, injured demigod leaning against the painted bricks and no doubt leaving some crimson stains behind.  Was that the Mist at work, or was he somewhere where no-one even noticed bleeding teens?

Michael didn’t really care.  Both options were far better than where he’d been, where he was running from.

He needed to keep moving, no matter how much his body protested, but first he needed a plan.  Running blindly wouldn’t help; he hadn’t shaken his pursuers despite his best efforts so far, and he wasn’t naive enough to hope he’d shaken them now, either.  But now that he was out, he had a chance.

His hand tightened its grip around his precious prize, the one small shard of hope that had crossed his path amongst the pain and fear.  Firm edges pressed into his palm in a way that would be almost painful, if his body’s resting pain threshold wasn’t currently up around ten out of ten, a reassurance that he hadn’t lost it, hadn’t dropped it as he ran.

Michael had no weapons.  He had no way to fight off his pursuers, no way to make them stop following him for good.  Hand-to-hand had been out of the question even before the injuries started stacking up; he’d never done well enough in that during training to treat it as anything other than a last, desperate, resort.  Here, where defeat meant getting dragged back to the freak, it was even lower on his list of non-existent options than normal.

But what he did have was one, single golden drachma.  A stroke of luck amongst everything else, because drachma meant communication, and communication meant help.  He could call Chiron, ask the old centaur to send someone his way, and warn him about the freak while he was at it.

Once he knew where he was.

He only had one drachma, one chance to make a call.  He had to make it count.

It didn’t take Michael long to come up with a plan, if it could even be called that.  Step one, find out where he was.  Step two, find a rainbow and make the call.

Don’t get caught in the process.

He’d lingered too long.  He knew he had.  With a groan he forced his body upright again, biting back a scream as his right leg buckled and almost collapsed, and shoved himself away from the wall.  The movement pushed him into a run, one leg in front of the other with no pause to think, for all that they both threatened to crumple beneath him as he staggered forwards, each step sending a bolt of pain up his right leg.

Michael stumbled his way towards the busier street.  He didn’t know if it was a major enough street to have helpful signs like “welcome to”, but it was the best shot he had at finding where he was.

Several times, he almost fell, barely catching himself on the building walls, but he made it to the larger street without picking up any more injuries.

It didn’t have a “welcome to” sign, or any other defining characteristics that might have at least given Michael a clue.   Cars drove past him without a second look, not that Michael intended on getting in one, anyway.  It would be infinitely easier than walking, but the freak had a lot of influence.  Michael couldn’t trust anyone not to be part of his many, many circles.  Until he made contact with Chiron, he couldn’t risk talking to anyone.

The street ran east and west, as straight as an arrow, and Michael barely even had to think before he was turning east, glancing up at the sun as he did so and sending yet another silent and rushed prayer his father’s way.

Apollo had guided him to safety before.  Why couldn’t he do it again?

Passing mortals paid him no more attention on the major street than they had on the side street.  Michael still didn't know if that was due to the Mist concealing the various injuries and blood dripping from hastily wrapped (and in some cases unwrapped) wounds, or if they really just didn't care in this place. Not that the why actually mattered; at least no-one was stopping him.

It was only going to be a matter of time before they found him again, and Michael needed to have figured out where he was and called Chiron by then. If they caught up to him here, he didn’t stand a chance.

The thought spurred his protesting body on, legs screaming and lungs hauling in as much air as they could stand. There had to be some sign, somewhere, to tell him where he was. A café name, roadsigns, billboards. Something.

He reached an intersection just as the lights turned green for the cars. A glance behind him didn’t show any obvious pursuit but Michael couldn’t risk it. He dashed forwards, dodging honking vehicles, and felt his leg buckle halfway across, but he snarled and pushed on, refusing to let it surrender to the break just yet.

Not until he was safe.

It was probably more luck than skill that got him across without being knocked down by a irate driver, but Michael didn't pause when his feet met the sidewalk once more, leaving the cacophony of chaos behind him as he kept running.  His lungs were starting to burn; no demigod endurance could keep going forever, and Michael had been fleeing for days, weeks, he didn’t even know.  He’d long since lost track of time.

There were more than a few near-misses with crashing into mortals on the street, his legs not quite up for intense manoeuvrability and reliant mostly on other people getting out of his way, and more side streets crossed - more than one involving a game of chicken with cars and the accompanying soundtrack of blaring horns and swearing drivers - but Michael didn’t let himself stop.  Couldn’t stop.

Where was he?

His eyes scanned the streets as he ran, desperately searching for any sign, a familiar name to latch onto, but his dyslexia kept jumbling anything that might be helpful and he didn’t dare stop long enough to decipher it.  He couldn’t hear any pursuit yet, but he knew with a certainty deep inside his bones that they’d come.  If he hadn’t lost them in there, he wouldn’t lose them here.

Another intersection - complete with more cars and horns, and Michael almost collapsing in the middle of the asphalt as his leg buckled alarmingly - and the buildings sharply receded on the other side of the street, leaving a large lawned area with a broad paved path leading directly up to an impressive building.  People milled about, sitting on the edge of the cacti-infested planter that ran up the middle of the path, signifying it as a public place, and Michael made a snap decision.

It was the first thing he’d seen that seemed like it could tell him where he was, and further down the street he could see a fountain.

He clutched the drachma tighter, certain it had to be leaving jagged red marks in his skin, and ploughed across the street, his run disintegrating into more of a rapid limp as he dragged himself towards the building.  There were words emblazoned above what was clearly the entrance, and flapping banners covering the outside of the second floor windows, more images than words.

When he drew to a stop outside, chest tight with pain and almost all his weight on his left leg, which trembled frantically as it desperately tried to bear it, he blinked at the large words, willing them to arrange themselves in a way that made sense.

AZRINOA STATE MEUSUM

No, that wasn’t right.

Arizona State Museum.

Arizona.

Michael had never been to Arizona before in his life, but the state name triggered an immediate memory of crackling spears and loud, abrasive words.

Clarisse.

He’d had a lot of time to think, while the freak had him.  Time to get angry at the daughter of Ares, time to shout and curse her existence, to blame her for the battle going wrong, for the hellhounds tearing Nathan apart, for the shockwave that had sent half his siblings cascading off the shaking bridge-

But then time to go hollow, time to remember that the Ares cabin was never going to be stationed with the Apollo cabin, that the deaths wouldn’t have been prevented.

Time to realise that it wasn’t Clarisse’s fault.  That in the grand scheme of things, their argument had been petty and inconsequential.

Gods, but the Fates had a sense of humour, dropping him in Arizona, of all places.

Michael didn’t know which city held the state museum, if it was Phoenix or Tucson or somewhere else entirely, but… Clarisse would know.

Clarisse, for all that they’d never got on, had always been a strong leader.  She might hate him, might have told him she hoped he died (and he almost had and that still stung, a little), but she was prepared for trouble and Michael had never seen her without at least two visible weapons on her.

Hades, he’d been on the receiving end of them a few times, when their arguments got too heated.  Lee, and Emily before him, had always told him off whenever he landed in the infirmary again after a fight with her.

The drachma felt heavy in his hand.

Michael turned away from the museum and pushed his body to start moving again, a walk that turned into a jog until he dragged it into a full run again, leg screaming in agony but something almost like hope starting to bloom in his chest.

He just had to reach the fountain.  The Arizonian sun blazed down above him; there had to be a rainbow shimmering in the droplets somewhere, and then he could call for help.

The back of his neck prickled as his staggered run took him out of the museum grounds and back onto the street, and the blooming hope stuttered before it had much of a chance to grow.  He threw a glance down the street, back the way he’d come, even as he pressed forwards towards the fountain, glistening in the sunlight.  No sign of pursuit, but that didn’t mean anything.  Michael hadn’t survived this long by not listening to his instincts, and the sudden tenseness at the top of his spine told him he had to run.

So he ran.

Jagged agony shot up his broken leg as he pushed it further, stumbling but refusing to fall even when tears of pain started leaking from the corners of his eyes and his breathing took on a whine of desperation that rang in his ears.

He almost crashed into the edge of the fountain, hands reaching forwards to brace himself against it and absorbing the impact.  The drachma in his hand dug in deeply enough Michael wouldn’t have been surprised if it had drawn blood, but he’d take that a thousand times over dropping it now, so close to being able to use it.

Exposed and with no cover, if he lost it and the cry for help it afforded him now, it would be over for him.

Dashing away the tears of pain with the back of his hand, and wincing as the salt stung open scratches, he glared at the fountain, desperately searching for the glimmer of colour that had to be there, somewhere.  The sun and the falling droplets of water were present, he just had to find -

There.

It was halfway around the fountain from where he’d stopped, and he clawed his way around the edge, leaning heavily on the white stone rim and letting his right leg abandon his weight.  His left leg, and the arm he was bracing himself with, both trembled angrily, but Michael wouldn’t fall here.  Not now.

The rainbow shimmered in front of him and he forced his fingers to unfurl from their death grip around the drachma, streaked red with angry lines where the coin had imprinted almost every detail onto his palm.

“Oh, Goddess, accept my offering,” he mumbled.  His voice rasped in his ears after however many days it had been since he’d last had a reason to talk out loud, hoarse in his throat - maybe he should’ve taken a drink from the fountain first, but there wasn’t time for that - but hopefully the words came out clearly enough for Iris to understand.  He tossed the drachma into the rainbow with a shaking hand.

“Clarisse La Rue.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t planned on calling Clarisse.

Even if he was in her home state, Chiron would know where things like the state museum was, and crucially, the centaur had never told him to die .

But the drachma was gone, the only one he had, and he’d said the name now.  He dashed more tears - pain, frustration - away and stared at the rainbow, waiting for the call to go through and knowing he wasn’t at all prepared to talk to Clarisse, but that he had to.

Nothing happened.

The rainbow shimmered, glistening in a way that didn’t quite seem natural, and Michael stared at it in horror.

“C’mon,” he muttered, glancing back the way he’d come.  Still no signs of pursuit, but his instincts were screaming at him.  “C’mon, connect, why aren’t you fucking connecting?”

The rainbow pulsed lightly, as though it was still waiting for something, and realisation crashed over Michael.

“Fuck.”  He hadn’t said where Clarisse was - where was Clarisse?  He didn’t know, didn’t know if she was even still alive, let alone if she was at camp or if she’d left camp now, or...  “Fuck.  I don’t-  Where the fuck is Clarisse?  Iris- fuck- Lady Iris, please.”  His hand clenched into a fist as he leaned forwards and rested almost the entirety of his weight on the rim of the fountain.  Breathing was supposed to be easier than that but the air kept getting caught in his throat and distantly he realised he was panicking, sensing his hope slipping away from one slip of the tongue.  “Clarisse La Rue at… fuck, I don’t know.  Camp Half-Blood?”

His right leg buckled and he clamped his mouth shut against the cry of pain as broken bone fragments slipped against each other.  More tears welled in the corners of his eyes and he turned his head, wiping them away frantically in the dirty remains of the fabric on his shoulder.

When he looked back up, Clarisse La Rue was staring at him out of the centre of the rainbow, eyes wide in shock.

She looked older than when he’d last seen her, hair semi-neatly chopped around her cheeks and small scars he didn’t remember peppering across her face.  She was bigger, too, always broad-shouldered but now easily twice his width, and Michael was pretty sure she was even taller.

“Clarisse,” he rasped, too relieved to even care how frantic he sounded.  “Help. ”

“Michael?” she asked.  “You’re dead.”

The bark of laughter that erupted from his mouth wasn’t humorous in the slightest.  Fuck, camp thought him dead?  It made sense, explained why no-one had ever come looking, but-

Fuck.

“Not fucking quite,” he replied hoarsely.  The back of his neck tingled again and he glanced back the way he’d come.  Still no sign, but that didn’t make him feel any safer.  “Not yet.”

Her brown eyes sharpened, narrowing from wide-eyed shock to the assessing daughter of Ares Michael had seen so many times before.  “What happened to you?” she demanded.  “And why are you calling me?”

“Fuck if I know.”  He looked around again, and caught sight of movement in the distance.  Movement that didn’t seem natural for mortals going about their day.  “Fuck.  I’m in Arizona, don’t know where the fuck except the state museum’s just down this road and if I don’t find somewhere safe to hide - or at least some fucking weapons to fight back with - now I’m fucking dead for real.”

“I know where you are,” Clarisse said.  Michael saw her glance away from the IM for a moment, then nod firmly, a familiar stubbornness settling into her expression.  “There’s a big building behind the fountain.”  He looked up and nodded.  “That’s the state university.  Get around the back of it then follow the boulevard east through the campus.  Once you’re out of the campus, keep following the street east for six blocks, then go left, then get to the park on the right.  There’s an unused building in the far corner; mortals think it’s locked but it’s not.  It’s one of my safehouses.  You’ll find weapons there.”

Through the college campus and then another six blocks.  Michael’s leg throbbed in protest but he set his jaw and nodded.  He could do that.

He had to do that.

“Thanks,” he rasped, glancing back again.  The shapes were clearer, bulky individuals that clearly hadn’t figured out exactly where he was yet but were searching.  “Fuck.  Gotta go.”

He slashed an arm through the rainbow, cutting off Clarisse’s “Mi-”, and pushed himself away from the fountain.

Time to run.

Michael knew that his leg shouldn’t be able to keep moving, let alone running.  A mortal could never have managed it, and he was pretty certain most demigods couldn’t, either.  Being the son of Apollo had its perks, but that didn’t stop it sending vicious stabs of pain up through his body with every step, reminding him loudly and furiously that son of Apollo or not, he wasn’t doing it any favours and sooner or later it was going to run out of endurance.

Oblivious college students didn’t even seem to blink as he ran past them, adrenaline flooding his body and pushing him further, further, faster.  Fear of being caught and the hope of safety ahead of him worked in tandem to urge him on, slamming away the pain with extreme prejudice and forcing his legs, both the broken one and the merely exhausted one, to keep going, one foot in front of the other and jarring with every step.  The campus stretched out before him, seeming impossibly long, and in the back of his mind a small voice despaired that he’d never make it.

He told the voice to shut the fuck up and kept going.

The sun beat down as he ran, sweat joining with blood to leave a trail behind that he was painfully aware of but could do nothing about.  All he could do was hope that he had enough of a headstart to outrun them to Clarisse’s safehouse.  And that Clarisse would think to tell Chiron, because fuck, he’d forgotten to tell her to.

The first sounds of active pursuit reached his ears as he passed a set of tennis courts near the end of the campus, lungs burning, chest heaving, legs screaming, and he glanced over his shoulder to see students being pushed out of the way by larger, armed and dangerous, figures.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His body had nothing left to give but Michael wasn’t going to let it surrender.  Not now, not when he finally had a chance to get away.  He ignored the voice in his head that said that a safehouse wasn’t much good if they saw him go into it, and that he didn’t stand a chance in combat even if he did get his hands on weapons, because it didn’t matter how true it was, it was still all he had.

He accelerated again, finding speed he didn’t know he was capable of even with two intact legs and not on the cusp of exhaustion, and bolted across the last few yards of the campus, hurtling across the street without stopping and forcing cars to swerve to avoid hitting him, and kept going.

One block.

Behind him, more car horns sounded and drivers started shouting.  Something sounded like it hit something hard.

Two blocks.

Something went crunch and the shouting abruptly stopped.

Three blocks.

Michael’s lungs were on fire.  He couldn’t even feel his legs any more, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

Four blocks.

Fresh shouting started up, low and guttural and undoubtedly aimed at him.

Five blocks.

His lungs transitioned from on fire to non-operational, each breath a constricting choke as he ploughed on.

Six blocks.

Michael skidded around the corner, crossing the intersection to more irate cars and almost toppled over at the change of direction.  He caught himself on a wall and all but bounced off of it, lurching down the sidewalk and knowing it was too much to ask that his pursuers hadn’t seen him make the turn but part of him begging whichever gods might be listening that they’d missed it anyway.

The park on the right, Clarisse had said, and Michael almost stumbled over his own feet as he caught sight of greenery after a moment of desperate running.

A javelin sailed past him, missing only because his leg buckled and listed him to one side for a heartbeat, and Michael’s stomach leapt up into his throat.  Not now, not now he was so close.

He threw himself into the greenery the moment it opened up, using the shrubbery for what little cover it could give him, but it was barely moments before he heard the leaves get brushed aside behind him.  Guttural cursing in a language Michael didn’t know but had got used to hearing was far too close as he frantically scanned the far side of the park for the building Clarisse had mentioned.

Where was it where was it where was it where the fuck was it-

There!

On the far side of the park, sheltered by trees on multiple sides, was a building that looked old and rundown.  Chains and padlocks wrapped around the door, but as Michael focused on it, they shimmered and fell away.

He hadn’t known Clarisse could manipulate the Mist that well, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He didn’t have time to complain.

There was still half the park to cross and he wasn’t going to make it unless he found another burst of speed from Hades-knew-where.  He choked on more air, willing his legs to go faster, but he still couldn’t feel them, not even the pain from the break, and he definitely wasn’t speeding up.

If anything, he was slowing down.

Fuck no.  He wasn’t going to get caught, not here.  Not now .  He leaned forwards, desperate for just a little more speed, and felt something snag his feet.

He landed on his front hard enough to see stars, every part of his body compressing in a way that made him feel sick, or perhaps that was the knowledge that he’d never get up and away in time.  It didn’t stop him trying, pushing himself upright on arms that were shaking almost too much to bear his weight, one shoulder screaming as it reminded him it probably wasn’t in its fucking socket, determined to fucking crawl if he had to.

Electricity crackled.

“Back off!” a female voice roared , footsteps running towards him from where he’d been trying to get to.  Michael’s first thought was that he must have hit his head when he fell, because that was Clarisse’s voice.

He dragged his head up just in time to see a figure jump over him, barely an instant before there was the clash of weapons behind him.

Rolling over was marginally easier than trying to stand up.  It brought with it a reprise of pain from his broken leg that jolted back into awareness so quickly he barely choked down a cry, but more importantly gave him a front row seat to Clarisse La Rue in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt wielding a familiar electric spear with a vengeance against the freak’s employees as they found themselves on the back foot, clearly not expecting to face anything more than a desperate, injured demigod they’d already run into the ground.

A skilled daughter of Ares with a weapon gifted to her by the god of war himself was not a desperate, injured and run into the ground demigod.

Michael had seen the Germani fight before, when the freak wanted entertainment.  They were skilled and powerful, far more so than most demigods - but Clarisse was not most demigods, and had surprise on her side.

He pulled himself backwards with trembling hands, away from the fight, until his back hit something solid.  A panicked glance upwards revealed that it was the trunk of a tree - not a rogue Germani trying to get around Clarisse - and Michael reached up with his less-bad arm for a low-hanging branch to haul himself to his feet with, much to the protest of his entire body.

If one of the Germani did get around Clarisse, he refused to be vulnerable on the ground.  He could still run to the safehouse if he had to, leg be damned .

For the moment, he let the trunk of the tree take most of his weight, keeping his right leg off the ground and gripping the trunk with white knuckles to stay upright while he watched Clarisse fight.

She’d always been an impressive fighter, but the demigod in front of him here was a whole different class to the one he remembered from before Manhattan.  The IM hadn’t deceived him - she was slightly taller and muscular since he’d last seen her - but there was a confidence to her that felt different, almost more natural.

Or maybe he was just so relieved to be saved that his mind had entered delirium.  That was certainly possible.

Whatever it was, Clarisse clearly needed no help in finishing up the fight, her spear whirling around and dispatching the startled Germani in a typically child-of-Ares display of aggression, until the last one disintegrated into dust.

Michael was not ready for Clarisse to turn and face him, towering over him the way she always had done and racking him over with narrowed brown eyes.  There were some bleeding scratches on her front, and a rather more considerably bleeding gash on one arm, but she didn’t seem to notice them as she stepped towards him.  Instinctively, Michael straightened, his weight automatically transferring back to both his legs, and provoking another blinding protest from the right one.

“Clarisse,” he croaked.

“What happened to you?” she demanded, voice sharp and unyielding.  “You died in Manhattan.”

“The fuck I did,” he protested.  “Some fucking emperor-god-wannabe fished me out the river and dragged me off.”  At least, that was what he’d gathered after the fact.  He didn’t remember anything between the bridge collapsing and waking up in the freak’s floating villa, which had taken far too fucking long to escape from.

He didn’t expect Clarisse to believe him, though.  It sounded fantastical, he knew it did, wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t lived it himself.  But it was the truth.

To his surprise, Clarisse’s gaze sharpened.  “Emperor-god?” she demanded, and there was something in her tone that made Michael’s default defensive snap back falter briefly, because it sounded like she did, somehow, believe him.

Still, “that’s what I fucking said,” he retorted after a few seconds, the familiarity of arguing an unlooked-for comfort washing over him even though he didn’t want to argue, still needed Clarisse’s help badly.  “Freak said he was one of the Roman bastards despite the fact they’ve been dead for fucking millennia.  Called himself Caligula.”

The soft shit that slipped out of Clarisse’s mouth seemed like a reflex, and Michael blinked as she set the butt of her spear on the ground.  “Let’s move,” she said, glancing around.  “We can talk once we’re somewhere more secure.”

That, Michael agreed with, and he took a step away from the trunk.

His body did not agree.

Enough, said his leg, at the same time adrenaline drained away, leaving his head lighter than air.

He crumpled.

“Shit!”  Large, warm hands caught his shoulders in a grip of iron.  “Michael!”

Michael snarled weakly and tried to get his leg under him again.  “I’m fine,” he insisted, knowing it was a lie.  He wasn’t fine, but he hadn’t hit his limit yet - he refused.  He dragged his head up to meet Clarisse’s searching gaze.

She snorted.  “Pull the other one, Yew.”

To his surprise, she sank down in front of him, and by the time his brain realised what was going on he was slumped over her shoulders, pinned in place by an arm around his leg and hand clamped around his wrist.

“The fuck, La Rue?” he yelped as she grabbed her spear with the hand not holding him in place and straightened up.  “I can fucking walk!”

“This is faster,” she said.  “Instead of slowing us down, keep an eye out for more of Caligula’s people.”

Michael tried to be offended, but as she broke into an even jog, he had to at least privately concede the point.  The movement jostled his broken leg, thankfully not the one she was using to hold him in place, and he fought back whimpers, but after so long running under his own steam, it was a relief not to have to, anymore.

Even though it meant a fireman carry from Clarisse.

It was easier to let his head hang than try to hold it up, and his matted hair made a curtain that was difficult to see through, but Michael had no desire to be ambushed by more Germani - more of Caligula’s people, and he was starting to wonder how much Clarisse knew about the freak, how she knew anything about him in the first place.  He squinted past his hair, watching the park behind them as Clarisse jogged forwards, and then the street as she passed the safehouse without pausing.

“Where’re we going?” he asked, watching the building get smaller for a moment before flicking his attention back to the street.

“My apartment,” Clarisse said shortly.  “It’s more secure than that.”

Clarisse’s apartment?   “Your mom’s place?”

She snorted.  “No.  My apartment.  You just ran through my college campus.”

It hadn’t occurred to Michael that Clarisse would be in college, now.  Fuck, they were the same age; if she was in college, then if it wasn’t for the freak, he probably would be, too - if he’d ever decided what the Hades he wanted to do.

“Huh,” was the only noise he could summon in response, followed by another muffled whine as his broken leg jarred again.  Fuck, he missed the pain numbing properties of adrenaline.  Clarisse’s grip on his wrist shifted, and he realised that she’d heard it.  She didn’t mention it, though, just kept up with the jog as though he didn’t weigh a thing.

In his current state, he probably didn’t as far as she was concerned.

Wherever Clarisse lived, it felt a long way away.  Maybe it was because she wasn’t running in a flat-out sprint, but the journey seemed to take forever.  More than once, Michael found his eyes starting to slide shut, exhaustion fighting for dominance, and forced them open again, unwilling to risk missing a threat.

Nothing attacked them.  Michael could feel the tension in Clarisse’s shoulders rising the longer they went without being attacked, but she drew to a halt outside an apartment building unchallenged.

“Still awake?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Good.”  She turned around, looking back the way they’d come for herself and giving Michael a clearer view of the building, complete with the flight of stairs they were no doubt about to go up.  Seemingly satisfied that he hadn’t missed anything, she then turned back and continued towards what was clearly her apartment door.

Michael’s leg did not approve of the stairs.  Clarisse went slower than he expected, the rise and fall of her body minimal, but still his leg complained and more than one hiss forced its way past gritted teeth on the ascent.  Her grip on his wrist tightened, but she still said nothing.  Michael appreciated it.

Eventually, they came to a stop outside a plain door, indistinguishable from the rest of the apartment doors.  Michael wasn’t sure how Clarisse was planning on opening it with her spear in one hand while the other kept hold of him, but he wasn’t expecting for her to call, “it’s him.”

The door was yanked open so fast, Michael half-expected it to fly off the hinges.

“Michael?”

He forced his head to raise, his hair falling mostly out of his face so that he could see over Clarisse’s shoulder.

“Chris,” he rasped, not liking the way the son of Hermes was looking at him in horror.  “Take it you two are still together, then?”

“Yeah,” Clarisse confirmed as she walked past her boyfriend, who shut the door behind them.  At the click of the catch falling into place, Michael let his head sag again.  “Down you go.”

Michael didn’t manage to brace himself before spilling out of Clarisse’s grip, but he didn’t have to as he was gently laid on a throw-covered couch, his limbs limp and boneless as he sank into the fabric.

It felt heavenly.

“Gods,” Chris breathed, kneeling on the floor next to him, dark eyes surveying him from head to toe.  Michael heard the quiet click of a catch opening and his eyes flitted to look at the floor, where Chris had a large plastic box cracked open on the rug.  “Eat.”  A small square of ambrosia was held up in front of him.  Michael forced a shaking hand to take it from him and slipped it into his mouth, instantly feeling the relief that came from eating the godly food.

Hades, how long had it been since he’d last had ambrosia?  The freak certainly hadn’t ever given him any.

He let his arm fall heavily back onto the couch as he savoured the taste.

“Let me treat your wounds,” Chris insisted.  He was already pulling on gloves, and Michael eyed him in surprise.  The son of Hermes huffed.  “I know I’m not an Apollo kid, but my dad is still a patron of medicine, even if he’s not strictly a god of it.  I might not be able to instantly heal you but I can make sure you don’t die of sepsis.”

It wasn’t like Michael could do much more for his own wounds than he had already; he healed fast but not instantly.

“Fine,” he agreed, and Chris broke into a relieved look.  Clarisse shifted her weight.

“I’ll make sure the perimeter is secure,” she said, grabbing a small vial of nectar and taking a sip from it.

“Could you grab Michael something clean to wear before you go?” Chris asked her.  Michael felt him gently take hold of one of his arms, then hissed as he gently dabbed at the exposed cut with antiseptic.  “These clothes are filthy.”

“Fuck you,” Michael muttered, well aware that he was right.  They weren’t clothes he was attached to - the freak had got rid of his clothes after Manhattan and replaced them with some sort of sailor’s outfit, which Michael had had no hesitation about tearing up for makeshift bandages.

He was still furious about the loss of his camp necklace, though.

Clarisse headed further into the apartment without another word as Chris wiped down the skin around the gash before peeling away one of Michael’s makeshift bandaging attempts and getting to work treating the wound underneath it.

“You know I’m right,” Chris replied.  “Those rags need cutting off, anyway.”

Michael bristled.  “I can-”

“I know a broken leg when I see one,” Chris overrode him.  “I don’t even want to think about how much damage you’ve done to it running around - or how the Hades you managed to run around on that - but it won’t thank you for moving it again.”

Clarisse returned before Michael could come up with a retort, dropping a bundle of fabric over the back of the couch.  “I’m securing the perimeter now,” she said.

“Be careful,” Chris replied, and Michael watched as she stalked out the front door, shutting it with a loud click behind her.  “Okay, let’s get these rags out of the way.”

Chris’ hands were gentle as they tended to each cut, scrape, gash or worse.  It wasn’t the same as one of his siblings, but it was enough to make Michael feel halfway human again, if completely helpless.

“I’d run you a bath now but I think you’d fall asleep in it,” the son of Hermes told him as he probed gently at the probably-dislocated shoulder.  As much as Michael hated to admit it, the older demigod was once again right; he was well aware of the exhaustion doggedly gnawing away at him now that the adrenaline had faded away.  “I’ll do that later.”  He frowned at Michael’s shoulder.  “This, on the other hand, I’ve got to deal with now.”

One good thing about the encroaching exhaustion was that Michael’s muscles couldn’t tense up too much, even if they wanted to.  He grit his teeth as Chris carefully manipulated his arm into extending, before slowly starting to rotate it.  The earlier ambrosia was not enough to completely muffle the sensation of the joint grinding back into its socket; some whimpers slipped out past his clenched jaw.  Like Clarisse earlier, Chris had the tact to not mention it.

Even worse than the dislocated shoulder, predictably, was the broken leg.  That was by far the worst part of the treatment as Chris gently poked and prodded at it before resetting the bone.  The ambrosia was no more effective as a painkiller for his leg than it had been for his shoulder, and Michael couldn’t help a short, high-pitched shout as it shifted back into position - thankfully also passing unacknowledged by the son of Hermes.

“No walking on it,” Chris said firmly as he fitted a splint to keep it in place.  Michael grumbled a string of curses under his breath as it was secured.  “It - and the rest of you - needs rest.”  It was obvious that he wanted to ask about what had happened to Michael, much in the same way Clarisse had, but to Michael’s relief, he wasn’t actually broaching the subject.

Then again, Chris knew a lot about traumatic experiences.

Once all his wounds were treated properly, Michael pulled on the spare clothes Clarisse had dug out for him, begrudgingly accepting Chris’ help.  Unsurprisingly, they were all far too big for him - Clarisse was easily twice his size, now, and Chris might have been rather lither than his girlfriend, but he was far taller than Michael.  The only advantage was that it meant they were easy to pull on over the various bandages and even leg splint, which didn’t negate Michael feeling like he was swimming in fabric.

“I’ll get you something that fits better soon,” Chris apologised as Michael flaked back down again, finding the couch far more comfortable than it had any right to be.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

The apartment door opened and Clarisse strode back in, bolting it behind her and propping her spear up beside it.  “Secure,” she reported, heading for them.  “Done with the first aid?”

“Done,” Chris confirmed.  “He won’t be walking on that leg any time soon, but otherwise it’s mostly exhaustion.”

Clarisse sat down on the rug; with Michael laying down on the couch, their heads were at similar heights.  “So what happened after Caligula grabbed you?” she demanded.  Chris’ sharp intake of breath at the name told Michael that they definitely knew something about the freak.  “That was nearly two years ago.”

Michael grimaced.

“Couldn’t get out,” he admitted, glossing over the gloating, the leering Germani and the self-important big-eared pandos, to say nothing of the fucking horse and the freak himself.  They’d found his attempts amusing.  The freak had even dared him to get out, promising him that he couldn’t.

The freak had said a lot of things, and Michael still couldn’t shake the shivers at the promise that he would be the new sun god.  It was delusional - it had to be, Apollo was the sun god and wouldn’t be usurped by some fucking wannabe - but the freak had always sounded deadly serious when he’d said it, like he fully believed he would .  He’d said Michael would help him, too.

Michael’s attempts to escape had always got more frantic whenever he heard that gloat.

He didn’t say any of that, didn’t think he could if he tried.  Neither Clarisse or Chris pressed him for details.

“Had a fucking boat villa.  Never let the thing near land.”  He’d managed to get on one of the boarding boats, once.  Mortal security guards had spotted him and dragged him back, citing some nonsense about the boss’ son not being allowed to leave.  “Took for fucking ever to get off.”

Eventually, one day, the guards had been distracted by something.  Michael still didn’t know what, but it had been enough for him to finally slip past them, onto land for the first time in eighteen fucking months, and run for it.

It almost hadn’t been enough, he’d almost been caught, but a door he’d run through had ended up in tunnels and more tunnels and more and more and more fucking tunnels with monsters with claws and teeth and other appendages they shouldn’t be allowed to fucking have that wanted a piece of demigod flesh and-

“Michael, breathe.”

A hand rested on the couch, not touching him but enough to catch his attention.  His eyes snapped to it, then followed the arm up to a shoulder and up again until he was looking at Chris’ face.  The older demigod’s brow was furrowed in concern, and Michael realised he was breathing too fast, air not actually reaching his lungs.

Fuck.

Michael closed his eyes, only to be assaulted by memories of being tracked, hunted, and snapped them open again, focusing instead on Chris’ face as he tried to wrench his breathing under control.

“Don’t push yourself,” Chris told him gently as air started to reach his lungs again.  “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it.”  Michael glanced at Clarisse, still sat on the rug behind her boyfriend but frowning, face all twisted up.

“No,” he said, hating how thin his voice sounded.  “I- fuck.”  If it was anyone else, he’d take the invitation to stop talking, because they wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t get it.  But these two…

“Fucking Labyrinth.”

Chris’ face paled, and Clarisse moved, putting her hand on the son of Hermes’ shoulder.  Her knuckles were white.

“It got me away,” Michael admitted, because it had; without its twists and turns and traps absolutely everywhere the freak’s men would have caught up to him within a day.

He didn’t know how many days he’d been running through the fucking thing before it finally spat him out in Arizona.

“But- fuck .”  He’d never been in the fucking thing before, but he’d seen what it had done to Chris, how pale and shaken Annabeth had been when she re-emerged alone after her quest.  Had seen the monsters spill out of it into camp, had seen Lee’s head smashed open-

The fucking thing was supposed to be destroyed.  Why was it back?

He could’ve done without experiencing the inside of the fucking living nightmare for himself.

“You made it,” Chris told him, voice shaky but assuring.  “You made it out, Michael.”

“You’re safe,” Clarisse added, tone firm and leaving no room for debate.  Michael looked at her, remembering too many arguments and disagreements and threats from the daughter of Ares but seeing only pure sincerity and stubbornness there now.  “Those shitheads won’t get you, and you’re never going in there again.”

Michael swallowed around a lump in his throat.  “Yeah,” he agreed, voice shaking just as much as Chris’.  “Yeah.”

He was out.  He was safe.

The knowledge settled over him, heavy and warm as it finally sank in, and with it came a looming darkness his battered, aching and exhausted body finally stopped fighting and instead welcomed with open arms.

potentially tbc...

[wordsinhaled]

i'm at a bit of a standstill with the ring-kissing fic so y'all are gonna hear me ramble about hob gadling and dream and arthurian knighthood for a minute because man. man!!!

i mean. the ring-kissing fic is not a straight-up arthuriana AU but nevertheless

hob gadling is... THE knight errant, errant as in erring from the proper course AND errant as in adventure-seeking!!!

he's exactly the sort of knight of the round table malory was writing about. malory shows us that the knights are imperfect, flawed, perpetually a moment away from committing questionable or outright cruel acts. like, the irony of camelot and arthur and the round table being held up as paragons of morality and chivalry is my FAVORITE THING because these characters are RIFE with moral grey. the fabric of the round table is continually threatened by the knights' own failings. they are kept in check only by the strictures of virtue and courteisie, these ideals of courtly love that they are held to and yet often do not achieve

and then you get into how howard pyle sort of transformed this entire concept of the morally grey round table to cherrypick "moral" values and ideals of uprightness and chivalry to shape young men in the 1900s, and how the story mutates into this idealization of the round table and knighthood, but i digress

i remember reading a paper ages ago (wish i could find it now, but have no recollection at all what it was called or who it was by) about how the round table and the mythologization of camelot, the codification of chivalric social norms, was a response to not knowing quite what to do with the medieval soldiering/knightly class in society when they were not at war, how to keep their power in check and maintain an orderly society, because there was this fear that these men would not have anywhere to put their energy and would resort to violence/social unrest so religion and courtly love were used to create ideals for the warrior class to follow

and like... that is the most hob gadling energy ever, honestly??? like he's so representative of that thing that was feared in society. mercenary hob, brute force hob, full of fire energy and zest for life that cannot be contained, becoming perhaps over the years more refined, or sublimating those aspects of himself, but never losing the imperfection in him that always sways him toward some sort of moral failing

i mean. hob is the knight who would attempt the grail quest and not achieve the grail in part or, maybe more aptly, because he doesn't believe he will achieve it and understands himself to be fundamentally flawed. hob is the knight who wanders the forest in a hair shirt and never fully manages atonement but is always, perpetually striving toward it

so like, a whole aspect of this fic is the fact that hob is sort of having this experience of revelation in dream's realm, being in the dream lord's presence, that he doesn't feel entirely deserving of and has to grapple with having experienced and packing that eldritch transformative experience back into the waking world

and then there's the whole fact that dream himself (like arthur) is also fundamentally flawed. he suffers the tragic flaw of excessive pride. he is an idea and he is an ideal in his own right, but he often falls short of his own personal standards for his kingdom and is perpetually self-castigating. dream isn't The Grail, he provides revelation but he is also on his own hero's journey fumbling toward moral betterment and and and

yeah, i don't know, i am just Feral about this thanks @queerofthedagger

[written-among-the-stars]

Lessons in Writing: The Power of the Sympathetic Asshole

Welcome to Lessons in Writing, where I, a student in writing, tell you very unprofessionally about the things I learned recently.

First things first, a good character and a good person are two different things; a character can be one without being the other and vice versa. I would even argue that the best people can make for some of the least interesting characters. The purpose of a good person is to be moral, or ethical, to make the right decisions with the least amount of drawbacks for others. The purpose of a good character is to carry a story, and a story lives off of conflict. You don't get conflict by being moral or always making the right decisions (what are the right decisions anyway).

Story and characters are intertwined like nothing else: interesting characters makes for an interesting story. Think about it: we often like the characters more who influence the story the most. I think that's often why we're drawn to villains. Take the villain away, and you won't have that story. But you often don't need a villain, not really. You need conflict.

Interesting character create conflict, but what makes a character interesting? Depth. Fears, goals, misbeliefs, rooted in their backstory. An interesting character makes you ask questions externally, and answers them internally. So we need actions that cause questions, and backstory that provides reasons, our answers. That's where the sympathetic asshole comes into play.

Someone who does what you expect them to do doesn't raise questions. Someone who breaks those expectations does. We often expect characters, especially protagonists, to act morally (I think that's in general the expectation we have for everybody, not just in fiction). So when they don't, we ask: why?

But the answer part is just as important as the question part. If someone does a lot of shitty things seemingly just because, they're just an asshole. To be a sympathetic asshole, we need to know why, we need to know the reasons. A question raises suspense, a question that never gets an answer creates frustration. The reasons for asshole behavior are often rooted in the backstory, in trauma, grief, loss, separation, shattered dreams, unfulfilled fantasies, broken promises, etc.

Let's take a look at an example: Six of Crows

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. That's the first sentence of the second chapter. But well, he does have reasons, that's what Inej thinks at least. And she's right. The content of the second chapter doesn't only set up our setting, the city of Ketterdam and the barrel, but the character of Kaz Brekker. It leaves us with questions. How is he only seventeen and already practically leader of a gang? Why does he have a cane? What's with the gloves? Why does he feel the need to be so cruel about revealing and punishing the betrayal of one of his gang members? And so on. Later in the book we get our answers in the form of a backstory that leaves everyone to stare at their wall for at least five minutes. I won't spoil that here, but I truly think it's one of the best backstories to exist.

In a way, this could be applied to any character that breaks expectation. We can even set up the expectation of the reader by introducing them to the setting of the story and other characters that behave in a certain way, and then bring in someone who does not behave this way at all. That behavior could be any behavior. To an extent, we see this in Inej from Six of Crows. Gang member, right hand of Kaz Brekker and the notorious thief of secrets called the Wraith, yet she's not greedy, still follows her religion, doesn't want to kill and doesn't even like the name "Wraith".

What can we take away from all of this? Set expectations, break expectations and don't be afraid to make your characters assholes sometimes, if they have reasons for it.

[icecreamchonchips]

What is the Highest Version of you has to Say to you? 💌💗

Pick a Card 💐 | Tarot reading

Heyy gays, girls and theys, this is a tarot reading that i did just for fun. But it is a advice from spirituality, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Hope you have fun!

Ps: you don't have to stan any of these women, these are just for funsies, but it is a tarot reading that i did. I also don't own any of the photos nor the gifs! The creadits go to pins and the owners!

Take a deep breath and choose between the photos.

Use your intuition and read calmly.

1 Photo Ice Spice | 🌸 | 444

You've been pretty down lately, huh? Too tired to barely breathe is like you still can't keep your head in place after so many disappointments, friends, family or even events that happened in your personal life that affected you and somehow still do. And that's why I, your Highest version who knows all your sides and pains, weaknesses and strengths, ask you, Why? Why are you crying over past events or regretting things you've been through when you know you deserve more but somehow you keep getting hurt. Why ? If you can't see your immense worth I can, I see all the times you moved on after someone hurt you deeply, I see all the times your trust was thrown down the river or you had to go it alone but you know what i see too? Your full potential and I know you see it too and we both know that the only person between our deepest dreams and you right now is fear, fear of succeeding. The fear of being judged for what makes you feel good and I come to tell you that those who really like you will always be on your way, the right companies at the right times. The moment you have the mindset and start acting in favor of your goals, everything will move with focus and strength. Have faith, I see your success overflowing from you in every circumstance of your life!

2 Photo | 🐩 | 777

You are starting a new chapter, a new journey, in relation to your personal growth, so it is important now that you leave old habits behind, leave your old life behind and especially your self-criticism, so that you can receive the blessings and these newness in your life you need to let the old die there is so much newness coming to you, friends, family, finances, maturing, growth. It's no use fighting to try to work out with the past fighting for something that doesn't belong to you. Change comes and for the better, just let go of what doesn't fit you anymore!

3 Photo Alexia Demie | 🍹 | 999

You just came out of a place in a relationship that didn't work out for you ( doesn't have to be a romantic one) but your trust in people have been hurt, and now you find yourself in a place where you choose being locked up under 7 keys instead of looking positively at life out of fear, you are so afraid that people will hurt you again and that is why you are so closed, you are afraid of tossing and turning in bed at night, crying and fear of never coming back being able to move on because of it, but what you forget in all this blockade and walls you've created around yourself is that the people who really care about you are by your side, and always have been, even if from a distance. Try to change the way you see the world. Remember how good it is to bond and talk deeply with strangers on the street, even conversations in the supermarket queue will be good for you. Work your mindset, your soul, your spirituality, try to see the positive side of life, remember when people helped you or when you felt you could rule the world. Open up and let yourself live life for what it is, beautiful, have faith that things will get better, because they will.

Hope you had fun!

Glitery kisses 💋

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: I love you like Dr. Strange loves being right

Created for the 14 Days of Valentines community project, hosted by @muddyorbsblr

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Includes: Angst

Summary: Loki seeks council when he fears he's crossed a line

The Bewitched theme tinkles from your pocket as you leave the cafe. Chrysa wiggles her eyebrows, waving goodbye. She's been making hushed comments about how "fucked out" you look since she walked through the door.

You gave up telling her it was just a dream. A very satisfying, very realistic dream, but still a dream.

"Hey Wanda," you answer the call. "What's up?"

"Is Loki with you?"

"No," you frown at the concern in her voice. "I just left work. Why?"

"Steve's angry. Really angry. He said 'damn' under his breath, and he never swears.

"Loki's supposed to leave for a mission in an hour and none of us can find him."

"Have you asked Thor?"

"Thor's at the market. He refused to take his phone because he 'can't afford any more distractions from the new generation of boxed delight.'"

"He's getting an iphone?"

"No," she snickers. "Pop-Tarts released a limited-edition flavor. He's worried everywhere will be sold out because he didn't make it to the store this morning.

"Aaaanyway, do you know where your boy-toy might be? Bruce heard 'HE'S NOT MY FATHER!' coming from Thor's room before breakfast, but no one's seen Loki since.

"He likes to be snarky on coms, but he's never ditched a mission before. Did he say anything last night?"

"Not really. He said he didn't want to get 'too familiar,' but nothing about going somewhere. Luckily, he wasn't so refined it in my dream," you giggle.

"You're so naughty! What did he do?"

"Haha, we gotta meet up if you want the dirty details. I'm not telling the whole train about it."

"Come down to the tower then. Most of the team is leaving. We'll make pineapple upside down cake, and you can tell me everything. And if Loki comes back, you'll get to see him."

"Twist my arm why don't you."

☕

On your ride up, a feminine tone speaks in the elevator. "Welcome back to Avengers' Tower, I'm FRIDAY. Putting Mr. Stark through now."

"Hey, I'm trying to find Rock of Ages," says the unmistakable voice of Tony Stark. "Any idea where he is?"

You look around for a camera or microphone and say "Hi. Um, sorry? I don't know where Loki is. Can't you track his phone or something?"

The doors open, revealing the genius himself as he takes off his Bluetooth to address you directly. "No can do, princess. He's somewhere even FRIDAY can't reach. Next stop is Bleaker St. There's a wizard down there who likes to keep tabs on potential threats. Might be able to give us a lead."

"You don't think he's...?"

"What? Leading another alien army to attack the city? Probably not, but we can't be too careful. Either way, if we don't find him Cap's gonna have an aneurysm and he's too old to survive that." Chuckling at his own joke, Stark gives your shoulder a squeeze and gets on the elevator. "Don't worry, we'll bring your boyfriend back in one piece."

"We've only been on one..." you sigh as the doors close.

"Hey," Wanda comes up behind you. "There you are. I hope Stark wasn't giving you a hard time. He's still jumpy about planetary security. Wants some sort of forcefield, but after the Ultron mess..." she looks guilty. "No one else will agree to it."

You chew your lip, following her to the kitchen. "Should I be worried?"

"Worried?" she looks up. "I don't think so. Steve's just upset because he has to replan the mission. I'm sure Loki isn't in trouble or doing something wrong.

"From what Banner said, it's probably just a family issue."

You nod, but something doesn't feel right. You haven't known the god for long, but you know he wouldn't go to his parents unless he had to.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @peaches1958, @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog, @lovelysizzlingbluebird, @cakesandtom, @ladymischief11, @km-ffluv

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