#i can smell the strawberry fields. divine

[fayythe]

Divine Love: Chapter Two

Henry Cavill X OFC

Summary: Rhylan Daines property of the United States Government, the training she took on, the beating, and pain was all manipulating her to loose her body autonomy, they tell her to eat a certain way, talk, walk, act. Nothing is hers, how can she escape the torture her life has become? Now an semi-active black ops Navy Seal working for the CIA struggled to make peace with her past.  She was always told that every life she took, every person she tortured, and every soul she crushed was for the greater good, but how is more violence supposed to help the world?  How can acting help her stop being forced to kill?  How can finding love help her find herself? Only time will tell...

Trigger warnings: Slight Alcoholism, Assault, Kidnapping, Blood, Skin Branding, Heavy Depression, Drugs, Undiagnosed eating disorder, Forced Eugenics, Talk of Genocide, talk of war, talk of gore, Hospitalizations for medical reasons, Mental Health issues, Hitman/murder unrecognized by law, Profanity, Military Brutality, torture, terrorism, violence, scars, seizures.

Rhylan's Tattoos

Rhylan's Body Scars Diagram

There is no life to be found in violence. Every act of violence brings us closer to death. Whether it's the mundane violence we do to our bodies by overeating toxic food or drink or the extreme violence of child abuse, domestic warfare, life-threatening poverty, addiction, or state terrorism. – Bell Hooks.

Chapter 2: Насилие

Насилие...Russian...violence

Few Days Later 

"So, Rhylan, how did you get that scar on your chest? It's quite large" James asked.

I was sitting on 'The Late Late Night Show', in the somewhat comfortable interview chair on a stage captured by a large audience all around the stage. I was wearing my strawberry blonde hair its natural straight down to my waste, some slightly overpriced black skinny jeans, a vintage band t-shirt and my black combat boots the ones gifted by my general's wife.

Nelia talked me into this appearance, I truly didn't want to be around people let alone on stage in front of people I didn't know. "It will be good press!" She said, trying to talk me into it, the whole 'good press' idea is always her excuse to force me into new environments I wasn't familiar with.

When I walked on the unfamiliar stage, I found myself exanimating everything I could. Every exit, every person, each security guard all lacking a weapon to defend. My military instincts were on overdrive, the lights, the cameras, the crowd laughing, everything gave me the worst bombing headache.

But the questions, the questions about the military I wasn't mentally prepared to answer. But I had to, people were going to spend their time trying to figure out the answer to my questions their own way.

I looked at James again, my brain on overdrive.

"I got shot in the field, I was alone, I had to perform surgery on myself to get the bullet out." I nearly choked out my explanation, remembering the pain, remembering the metallic smell of my blood, the fight I had to keep staying alive.

"Wow... that's some story, can you share anymore?"

I looked off in dazed, trying my best not to quiver at the thought of that mission.

"It's probably best not to." I spoke.

James nodded, looking back at his notes.

"Let's talk about something a bit more fun, people don't really know much about you!" He clapped showing his excitement.

I chucked, "My favorite color is black, if you didn't already know"

"Ha! I can see that, when you first walked on stage, I thought you just walked out of a hot topic." James joked and the crowd laughed.

"What's hot topic?" I questioned.

I'm not joking, what it is it? Did he mean hot pocket? That's a food...man I'm hungry, I'd eat a hot pocket right now even though I absolutely hate them. Nasty things.

The crowd laughed again and so did James.

"Okay, where are you from?"

"Houston" I pushed back a piece of my hair that fell out from behind my ear.

"Oh wow! You don't sound like you're from Texas. Do you still live there?" James asked, I nodded, I'll probably live alone in my house with my dog for a longtime...or forever.

"What is someone from Texas supposed to sound like?"

"I don't know maybe a bit of country tinge"

I laugh, "People from Texas especially the main cities don't generally sound like billies', is that assumed by everyone from another state that isn't the south, or just British?" I asked which made the crowd laugh, James just shrugged with a joking smile on his face.

Alright, I can play that game too.

I looked at the crowd, putting my best hick country accent I can manage which wasn't as bad as I had hoped.

"Alrigh' y'all dis' is wha' Mr.Corden thinks I should soun' like"

Everyone breaks down laughing all over again.

The rest of the interview wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but I couldn't help myself from barely staying still towards the end of the interview. My flight home was so close, I could almost feel the horrible Texas humidity, and as much as I hated it, I missed it.

I was finally able to leave, my hatred for California was still at large from my previous experiences.

People didn't want to admit it, but California was corrupt, industries, politicians, even Hollywood, everything was twisted and coverups and bribes were at large in everything.

As much as I hate spending money, I chose to fly private, luckily though since I'm still considered an asset of the country the plain was US Government issued, untraceable, and completely off any commercial flight lists. Just what my mind needed, for the last few weeks my mind was a high alert. I found myself constantly looking for exists, vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and exploitations.

Nelia was the one to drop me off at the off-grid plane port in the middle of nowhere. Before she left, a guy in a slick black suit wraparound sunglass, secret service, told her to "forget the place existed or she will no longer exist."

I kind of laughed, threaten Nelia? Yeah, this guy has got to be dumber than a box of rocks to threaten her.

And I was right, before my next thought a hand reached outside from the driver's side window to grab the shirt collar of the man leaning down.

I didn't hear exactly what was said, but as soon as the man stood straight and Nelia drove off the man was glued to the same position, I could practically see his eyes burning through his glasses.

It took a few seconds for him to shake out of it, but then he was able to walk towards me and take the bags I was carrying.

"I think I'm in love with her." He spoke walking up the steps of the plane.

"Well that was one heck of a start to a relationship."

We got into the plane, I took my shoes off and sat one on the fancy leather chairs buckling up for takeoff, the man sat in front of me.

"I was under command to let her know. Doesn't mean I wanted to say it."

The man spoke funny, like weird...thinking about it and connecting the dots in my mind

Michigan, he was from Michigan.

I looked at him, he sucked at not showing emotions, which meant he was complete shit at his job. No wonder he isn't CIA, or maybe even FBI, it be somewhat a better option than secret service, lame.

But hey, at lease he's not homeland security. Don't get me started on those fuckers.

Sidenote, he was under command?

"Command of what? Who?" I asked pressuring the man I didn't know.

He just took of his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer fingers, then folded his sunglasses neatly and putting them in his suit pocket.

"He told me you'd ask—" The man started,

"What 'He' as a male, son of a bitch" I slapped my thighs, that fucker.

"Then he said you'd be pissed off, and determine the details quickly"

"Yeah, Yeah, I get it. It was Dean. I know. Fucker. Next time you see him, I need you to do two things, first; lick your finger, get it nice and wet then stick it in his ear—or his ass, then I want you to kick him in the balls once he's off guard."

Who is Dean? Oh right that.

When I was first inducted into the Navy, my scores were off the charts. So much so they made me take ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery Test) three times before they would believe that I wasn't cheating.

I don't understand how I scored so high, but the test score was near perfect, and I was able pretend I didn't have a learning disability growing up. Luckily, they never found that out.

I probably wouldn't be where I am today. To be honest, I wonder what life would've been like.

I was seventeen when I first joined, my mom and stepdad weren't happy about the idea and refused to let me join at first. They felt like my choices on career path changed to much and signing a contract for a job I couldn't get out of when I got bored wasn't a smart choice.

Plus, I was a girl. In my stepdads eyes, girls couldn't be successful soldiers, they weren't meant for it, strong enough for it.

Let's just say, I proved him wrong.

But it wasn't his choice, and I honestly didn't care what either of them thought and ended up forging my mother's signature on the application documents as hers was the only one that mattered. I found out later that they called her to confirm they have her permission, and she didn't deny it and gave the permission to continue with medical and psych evaluations, dates for bootcamp, and training.

I had already graduated high school around that time early and spent my time before bootcamp training my ass off.

Dean was the only person there to tap me out.

I didn't know who he was and what he wanted, I was just a new sailor and I wanted to get in a ship and sail away from my problems.

It was then I was taken to a...illegal off grid operation ran by the CIA; you know right after they blind folded me and drugged me.

I could still remember feeling of the chains...

July 2004

Bright lights.

So bright...

I tried to lift my hands up to rub my eyes, but I couldn't.

Instead, the sound of clinking metal filled my ears... chains.

I tried to move my legs, again the sound of metal, heavy metal.

My eyes shot open; my corneas blinded I was still sluggish...I felt...high?

I pulled on the chains, I had to get out.

This man, he could be a serial killer or some shit.

The amount of emotion I was feeling, rage, anger, fear, it was all overwhelming.

I pulled on the chains until my wrists were bleeding and my left ankle was dislocated.

Fuck being double jointed.

Just then a tall man, maybe a little over six foot walked through the electronic sliding doors in a crisp expensive looking suit, something I could never afford. Interesting a classy serial killer, was he going to eat my body too?

At least he was going to a silver fork and knife, I thought, still pulling on the chains.

"Rhylan Daines" He spoke drawing my given name out unnecessarily, he threw a manila folder on the table and pulled out the chair sitting right in the front of me.

The way he sat, the way he looked, something was off. This man wasn't a serial killer, well he could be, but not the normal ones you see on shows and movies. This guy was professional, I sat observing him, his watch was expensive it was a gold Rolex with diamonds around the face, well over twenty thousand dollars.

His haircut made his head look like a pineapple, it was stupid as shit, he was a marine... or maybe at one point he was. But why keep the haircut?

Semper Fi bitch.

I found myself bucking the chains straining and centimeters from his face that I could smell his coffee-stained breath, gross.

I couldn't help myself, the rage and anger, the pain I felt in my wrists and now my ankle from it snapping back in place as I stood. I want to hurt him. Kidnapping, drugs, physical restraint this guy must've been stupid.

"Where the fuck am I?" I spat in his face.

He didn't even flinch, which made me angrier.

"I'll tell you, but you have to calm down first, and sit down." He was calm, like he knew I couldn't and wouldn't hurt him.

"Calm down! —You drugged and kidnapped me, you son of a bitch! And you want me to be calm." I smiled, the crazy drugged sleepy smile. "Your funny" my voice was low.

"I will kill you."

I wanted to wrap the chain around his neck and watch the life fade from his eyes. I've never felt that before, the feeling of being in fight or flight and now that I was experiencing it was overwhelming.

He just smiled back, leaning closer to my face.

"I'll give you a chance to channel that anger, rage. You just have to listen."

I spat in his face leaning back in the chair, the pain in my ankle still at large.

"I'll give you that one, but if you do it again—" he pulled out a napkin from his suit pocket wiping his face.

"Talk"

"Well let me introduce myself first I'm-"

"I don't give two shits who you are, I want to know where I am and what the hell you want."

He just smiled, "I'm Dean Sawyer, General Dean Sawyer."

I rolled my eyes biting through my lip letting the metallic taste flood my mouth.

"Okay Dick, what do you want."

He looked off in the distance towards the mirrored window I now knew someone was on the other side of, then he opened the thick folder sitting in front of him pulling out...pictures...

"We've been watching you, perfect military standard testing scores, top two percent in athletic evaluation, section leader in basic training, high language skills, adaptability, and so much more."

I just starred blankly, while my emotions were on the highest drive I've ever felt in a longtime, with parents that thought you not to show any emotions you become good at hiding everything and learn to feel in secret if not at all.

I looked back at Dick and shrugged my shoulders. So? What's so special about me? I'm a nobody, or at lease I try to be.

Dick placed the pictures in front of me, there was pictures of me everywhere, training for bootcamp, walking home, driving, jogging, all the way up to today when I took my speech pledging my life to my country.

My jaw clinched so hard I'm surprised I didn't break a tooth.

"You were stalking me?"

"Well, I like the word observing. But stalking seems like an appropriate word to use, but don't worry it wasn't me."

Mr. Dick here sucks at reassuring people.

I crossed my arms. I'm getting tired of this bullshit, he's stalling.

"I work for the CIA, the counterint-"

"I know what the CIA is."

What does the CIA want with me? I'm a seventeen-year-old from Texas, newly indoctrinated Navy Sailor running away from life. Maybe he's bluffing, I observed his face and mental checklist of signs of someone lying.

Sweating ×

Wondering eyes ×

Stuttering ×

Fidgeting ×

Vagueness √

Over sharing ×

Crossing off all the signs of lying in my mind except one vagueness, while it could say something it could be explained if he was actually CIA.

"Well. We have a job for you, a special job. To put your talents at good use." He continued.

Talents?

"I need more details than that." I said, shaking my head.

"Right." He started, pulling more pictures from the folder... oh great does he have pictures of me showering or taking a shit. Man, this guy is a creep.

"Now the images I'm about to show you are highly classified. If you don't accept the offer, you are to never speak of what you saw or what happened her. Ever."

I shrugged, it's not like I have anyone to tell I don't have any friends.

I'm not even joking.

I nodded finally leaning closer to the table as he flipped over the pictures. The first picture that caught my eye was of a child no more than ten... she seemed to be middle eastern her hair was long and beautiful, but she was frail, and her body was bruised. She was crucified.

My eyes stung, my cousin Allie coming to my mind, how could someone do this?

The next picture was of some type of wear house, children chained to beds...mostly females. It was a child brothel...

Disgusting.

I scanned over the other pictures. Dirty politicians, news articles, bank statements, trafficking rings. The states weren't the only dirty places in the world.

Everywhere was guilty of something.

I pushed them off the table, I didn't even say anything. I was too angry. While Dick did kidnap me...and drug me I was too in my mind to say anything. The pain those children suffered, the people, women, civilians.

"It's time the government acts, but it has to be done privately. I believe you'd be the perfect first candidate."

Privately? Action? First Candidate...I took in a breath.

"I'm the head of a private project only a handful people know about. The goal is to train you to be the best there is, while your previous life will be wiped from everything, you have a chance to change the world." He continued.

Change the world, every word repeating in my head. I was drowning.

Am I really thinking about doing this? This is crazy.

"What would this entail?" I asked.

I'm hesitant to hear, killing people could I even do this? Am I strong enough to push myself like this?

The man intertwined his fingers, "missions, all over the world."

"What type of missions."

"Assassinations, framing, undercover work. A little of everything."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Dick took in a large breath. "Everything we'd be doing would be illegal, which is why this is an off the books CIA operation. Project Death Star."

I paused my entire body freezing, they wanted me to be the first soldier in an illegal CIA operation, me a seventeen-year-old.

I started to sweat slightly, remembering how growing up I was told I would never get anywhere, especially in the Navy.

"I joined the Navy to be in the Navy, to be a soldier—" I started, trying to convince myself to not want to take the offer.

"And you will be, just think of it as team six...just on crack," Dick shrugged his shoulders.

Team six was the elitist navy seal group in the navy known by the public, while I always thought they were interesting it was never my mission to become a seal. Realistically, when I first joined my plan was to be a submarine technician though I didn't find out women weren't allowed on submarines until I was already at bootcamp.

To say I was angry was an understatement.

When my drill sergeant asked me what I wanted to do in the Navy because no ship was going to want a little girl on it, I told him it was submarines.

He laughed, actually laughed.

But you see, I've always had a bit of an anger issue problem. I was a shitty child and even a shitter teenager, constantly in fights and arguments with everyone, teachers, other students, and my parents.

I didn't start picking up the pieces of my life until a Navy recruiter showed up at my school to present and encourage everyone to at least talk to a recruiter to see if they were qualified. It was then I felt I found a reason to push myself to be better and even a reason to live, and an opportunity to leave my shitty home life.

So, when the drill sergeant laughed at the fact I wanted to work on submarines, it broke all control I built over the last few years of training myself to be the best I can.

Before he knew it, he was swept off the ground and I had his head between my legs screaming for him to tap out, four other male recruits had to tear me off of him. His nose was bloody, and he was laughing, the fact that he found it funny only made me angrier.

"You're gonna get somewhere with that Daines." He spoke.

After my 10-mile punishment, He pushed me, he became my mentor and taught me leadership, teamwork, everything he knew. I looked up to him, he became the true father I never had.

Drill Sergeant Cade Mitchel.

Wait—"You're gonna get somewhere with that Daines."

Going to get somewhere with that?

I smiled. "Cade. He was a plant, you sent someone to observe me." Proud of myself, I uncrossed my arms and sat back in the uncomfortable metal chair.

Damn my ass was numb.

"Wow, I'm impressed. Cade was a plant, but just because he was doesn't make him any less deserving of your trust. He was very impressed for your skills, not to mention being able to catch him off guard." Dick pulled out a document from the folder, a stapled packet of paper with chicken scratch covered in it and placed it in front of me.

The top had my name—

Rhylan Daines.

General information, my birthday, testing scores, highschool GPA, my attributes, and personal notes. There were words that stood out to me the most it made my eyes burn, I've never been called or referenced as any of these things in my life.

Determination, courage, great leadership, untrusting—

The list continued, there was a few that were questionable to be considered 'assets' but otherwise the notes of what I confided with him showed every thought if what went through his head when I told him things that I wanted to keep private.

Things that made me the way I am...

A part of me was angry about it, he was faking everything. Someone I trusted as a mentor, as an adoptive father, who put my pins on me in my inauguration just a few hours ago, wasn't there for me on his own will, but as a will for another.

It was all fake.

But when I really thought about it, I was comforted by the fact he didn't see the negative things I saw about myself. While he found my trust issues a great asset, I found them annoying and it was a daily struggle to speak to people, strangers, anyone that didn't give me a reason to offer them my trust. While he found my stubbornness and loyalty strikingly intriguing, I never knew I was considered stubborn. I never had anyone tell me.

Loyalty on the other hand was something I always wanted in a friend, therefore it only made since I was able to reciprocate.

I was interesting seeing another person's point a view of me, as I always figured I wasn't enough of what they call 'friend material' and it was hard enough to figure out why people didn't see me worthy enough of their friendship.

But don't even talk about romantic relationships with me. They're a joke.

"He thought very highly of you, he's gone for now, but you'll see him a few days."

"Can I—" I started, picking up the packet.

"You can have it; we have another copy."

I nodded glad I didn't have to ask to keep it or give him a reason to.

Looking back at him, I started to finally calm even though I was still chained to the desk I finally felt I was where I was supposed to be in life.

"What type of training?" I asked, folding the packet into a neat square, and slipping it in my back pocket.

"We'd be sending you to complete BUD's, which is normal for navy seals, the only difference is you won't be able to leave until you complete, and there will be an extra few lessons."

Okay. This is a...start. I wouldn't say a good one, but it's a start.

Dick continued, "It will also be an accelerated course. Normally BUD's is about a year long, for you it'd be six or so months. Depending on where you are in the course and how you're progressing."

"I have a buddy that's going to be training you privately, you'll be the only one there."

Wait, normally seals are teams, but then again this isn't a normal situation. None of it is.

"I'm the only one?"

He nodded, reaching in his pocket pulling out a key standing from his chair and walked over to me. At first, he offered me the key, but I just gave him my hands to uncuff, "You'll be the first for now, once you're ready we plan to let you choose the next recruits, though the full team will only be four more."

He offered me the key again to uncuff my ankles from the chair.

"Do you accept this offer?" He questioned, his eyes following me ask I stood.

I was about 5'9 which was short compared to his 6'3 frame, but I guess guys that are abnormally tall stand out in the crowd. Which made him, unable to blend in—or he's just too old, the man looks like he'd been sitting in a bath for two years straight all wrinkly like that, stress truly does age people.

I shrugged, "Do I really have much of a choice now. You practically told me everything." I looked over at the mirrored window, giving those behind the glass a playful salute.

"But I'm seventeen remember, not an adult yet." I walked up to the mirror, I looked like shit, and I was starving.

"Not legal remember." He joked.

That was a lame joke. This guy needs lessons.

Not that I could do any better.

"When do I leave?" Change the world remember, rather start now then later.

"In a week."

Well, this is going to be the longest next six months of my life.

December 2015 (Present Day)

"Hey, Rhylan time to get up." I felt someone nudge my shoulder and immediately all my instances were at full drive, and I found myself swiftly grabbing the unknown object; a hand, from touching me, soon I was standing with the man in the suit in my grasp his arm wrapped under and around his back and my knee in between his spine.

I blinked and let go suddenly. What is going on with the me... I shook my head again.

"Don't fucking do that." I yelled. This is why I don't like people touching me, ever, I don't care if the plane is on fire, or you were stroking out there was very few people in the world who could touch me and one of them wasn't this random man and his duped gold crested suit.

"Look I'm sorry, you fell asleep, and you looked like you needed it. Damn man that hurt." He rubbed his shoulder circling his arm socket. "Next time you do that again. I can't promise you'd still have your life." I spoke looking for my carry on.

The plain had landed in Houston in some small private plane hangar, it was December, yet it was still hot outside, and humid as always from what I could tell from the wet concrete outside. Growing up here, I hated it, I hated the heat the bipolar weather, the people, the crime, anything, and everything.

While I still do, this is where my family is. I don't have anywhere else to go, or anyone else to go to. For where my mind and mental state is now, I don't think I'd be able to take care of myself without my family a few minutes away from me.

I couldn't find my bag anywhere.

"I already but your stuff in the car. Let's go I'm supposed to take you home."

I shook my head, "No, I can find a ride, uber something." I said, I don't want to be trapped in a car with this man I didn't know for forty-five minutes on the way to my house—the only true place I feel safe.

"Yeah right, this a private plane hanger from the United States Government, yeah right. Uber." He laughed, as much as I wanted to insist, but he was right. It was dangerous for anyone to know about this place, though looking around the place looked familiar, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

Oh well. I just wanted to get home.

The car drive was long, to this day the highways of Houston still give me the worst new driver anxiety even though I had been driving for a good fourteen years give or take with the change in career the prospect of people driving me around everywhere still made me nervous. I had been gone so long filming mad max in South Africa and Australia the difference between their and my hometown often made me miss the pure humid heat Houston had to offer.

My hand tightened around my phone.

I should probably message my mother; I shook my head. Nothing good will come with that.

When the car finally rolled up to a stop in front of my house the filling of peace, I've been thriving for ages flooded through me.

Just before I open the door, the man in the stupid suit spoke, "Hey, wait"

"What?" The word sound harsher than I intended.

"Dean says you owe him one. He'll be contacting you soon."

Fuck.

I opened the door anyway, "Tell Dick to shove it."

When I took my leave, that's what it was a leave. While technically I am still active duty but because the operation wasn't on the books legally, I was able to bend the rules, take large gaps in absences from duty, do things my way.

I had to figure out a way to get away, and it was ironic I was able to get an acting call for that. They can't put me undercover if the entire world has seen my face. Can they?

I pressed my finger on my scanner disarming the security alarm for a moment to open the door. The sound of nails on the hard wood floor and huge blob of fur running to me. "Hey Lucky lue, hey buddy." I dropped my bags and got on my knees while I was smothered in dirty breath kisses.

Luther. I was stranded in the forest of Bulgaria for a little over a month, I couldn't leave the forest because people were going after me. But somehow, a tiny little black and white fur ball puppy came after me, chose me. I still don't understand how he was able to find me, but his loyalty and the fact he made me not alone.

After I was rescued, I insisted to bring the puppy with me back home to the states, which Dean wasn't very happy about. My entire training meant for me not to care or love anything, I think that's the moment he realized I was straying away from him, and the hell he put me through.

I put Luther through all sorts of military dog training, he was some type of German shepherd and Keeshond mix which made sense from the terrorist organization I was following from Germany to Bulgaria. Luther was loyal to me but found it hard to be loyal to anyone else, he loved running and working. Even if it was hunting bad guys.

After many months of training, Luther was certified in tracking, explosive detection, patrol, search and rescue, and attack. Some used more often than others, I still made sure he remembered what to do, so we did simulation rescue missions often he made sure to find his favorite duck toy every time.

I ran my hands though his soft fur whispering I love yous and I missed you. My home manager Sydney must've taken him to the groomers before I came home which made sense for his big blow out.

I walked up to the counter seeing a paper with a note on it, from Sydney.

"Dean messaged me to let me know you are on your way home. I made food for you for the week it's in the fridge, will be back on Sunday to make more food for the week. I slipped your mail under your office door."

-Sydney

I smiled, Sydney knew if she didn't make me food for the week, I'd only eat MRE's and Dairy Queen's chicken tender box. She has always been very good at her job, even consulting with a nutritionist so I could get the right amount of protein and vegetables to keep me going sense I work out so much.

I was lucky to find her, and I still agree I should give her a raise, but she won't let me and says I pay her too much as it is.

She's in her late forties, both of her children are in college, and she's divorced. I constantly tell her she can take some time off and go on a vacation, but she likes her comfort zone and prefers to spend her time reading my books. She's been like that for a while.

I made sure to give Lue a treat seeing he was a good boy while I was gone for so long, I think next time I'm going to take him with me even though I can't tell you how safe a trained military dog would be in a situation he wasn't familiar with.

I unloaded my bags putting the dirty clothes I had in the washer and putting the clean ones back in my closet. Opening my office door, the lights of the room immediately turned on and my triple monitor supercomputer powered set up woke,

"Good morning Mrs. Daines, its nice to see you again." The computer spoke.

I took off my leather jacket putting it on the coat rack next to the door, "Arthur, It's Rhylan, we've been over this."

Maybe coding him to always be polite was a bad idea.

"Yes ma'am. How was you flight home? I could not find you on any commercial airflights."

"Dean sent a private plane for me." I said, I slipped my shoes off lining them next to my other sets of black combat boots, I swear I have a problem with boots. "Ah General Dean Sawyer, would you like me to send him a passive aggressive thank you note, as always?"

I laughed, "No, It's okay. He will be contacting me soon. Though send Nelia a message, tell her I got home safely and thank you, while your are at it send her a delivery of her favorite flowers. I don't remember what they are, do you?" I sat in the chair in front of the computer.

Arthur took a moment to respond, "Nelia Wainright's favorite flower is Gardenia, an order has been placed, an a thank you message has been sent."

"That's good. Okay, give me a run down of all the things important since we last spoke." I said cracking my knuckles.

"It has been five months, twenty-six days, and twelve hours since our last update. Would you like the detailed version?"

I pulled at my desk drawer revealing my handgun case and cleaning kit, oh how I have missed you. The feeling of protection I have coded in my own program is sated when I carry, nowadays guns are too easy to come by not just in the states but in countries civilians believe it is impossible to obtain a weapon.

"Go for it' I said, taking apart the gun and begin cleaning. Gun's can never be too clean, and this one, this one went all around the world with me has taken the life of so many extremists all over the world I would probably cry if the inner barrel were to rust.

Arthur paused

"In the past five months one thousand two hundred eighty-nine dollars and ten cents has been taken out of your personal account to pay for subscriptions. Is this number, correct?"

Holy fuck, I need to stop pressing buttons.

"I'm sure it is Arthur keep going."

"Ms. Sydney has used her card to make purchases, the total was three hundred forty-six dollars and thirty-nine cents. Should I pay it off?"

I was surprised the costs were so little, I always tell her to use to for anything she would like.

"What were the purchase?"

Arthur commanded the computer to bring up the bank statement, he also opened a folder containing all the receipt Sydney scanned in, the rate the intelligence was flipping through the scans made me dizzy.

"It seems many of them are cleaning and pet care products. The most recent purchases conclude of steak, bell peppers, jalapeños, twelve-ounce chicken breast –"

"Yeah, I get it, it's food." I spoke, digging caked gun powder out of the crevasse of the handle, I must've been half asleep when I cleaned this originally.

I continued picking at the gun powder, I couldn't even tell you why it was there this gun didn't use much gunpowder. I looked up at the triple monitor screens, Arthurs program was running facial recognition on my outdoor cameras, every delivery man, every pet, neighbor, everything. I looked back down at the handgun in my hand putting the parts back together, I knew Arthur wouldn't find anything.

You may call me paranoid, and I might be. The problem is I have enemies in the world, enemies that would do anything and everything to hurt me and the people I love, not only do I need a safe space to feel at ease, but I need to know that the people close to me do too.

My house is a fortress and my future home build will be even more high tech.

Arthur is coded to scan constantly throughout the day and night, and alert me for any suspicious activity in my area or around the house in general, therefore I knew the results would turn up negative and there was nothing to worry about.

"There seems to be no suspicious activity as been recorded within the last five months."

I nodded; my ego swelled; I was right. I win at this coding came now don't I?

"Anything else?" I questioned, watching Arthur close his previous computer windows, and bring up the data from the bitcoin rig I set up a while back. Mostly because I was bored, but now it's been a steady source of income.

"Roughly thirteen point five seven bitcoin has been successfully mined since your last withdrawal. The total worth translated is two hundred twenty-five thousand one hundred seventy United State dollar."

I choked. That's a lot of money, I didn't expect it to be that much.

I did the math in my head, "Take eighteen percent and put it into my savings account—" More math, "Take the rest and donate it to my usual charities."

It's money I don't need, there's a point where money doesn't help and only becomes more of a burden with taxes. Not to mention, bad things happen to people with a lot of money all the time.

"Would you like to make the donations anonymous?" Arthur asked.

I thought about it, would I? Is it selfish to want to put my name on it, to get praise from people I didn't know? But my mind kept trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, I wouldn't see the praise, It's not like I had social media of any kind.

"Make it anonymous."

I'm not going to change the way I do things because I made my name public, I don't want to change myself.

"The transaction has been complete. Do you need my assistance any further?"

"No, just monitor me while I'm in Texas. I want to know anything and everything."

The computer dinged signaling the program has accepted my order and the ceiling lights dimmed an array of colorful desk lights turned on displaying a plethora of colors from the rainbow. "What game are you interested in playing?"

I put my gun case and cleaning kit back in the drawer, "Surprise me"

I put my headset as I watch the logo for the game the coded system choose to appear, World of Warcraft.

Oh home have I missed you.

[tacticalhimbo]

—OCS as OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS

tagged by @rolangf to fill this fun ass meme out <3

brain hurt so if you see this i’m automatically tagging you to do this for your blorbos ♡

since i was tagged twice.. i think? i lost count-- i'll just cramp two characters into this post. they're also both work in progress god of war ocs, but we don't talk about that <3

CHARACTER: Equinox; Sun Witch / Devotee of Freyr

ANIMAL: Barn Owl

COLORS: Gold, Green, Orange

MONTH: August

SONGS: City of Ashes // Jhariah | Dancing Queen // ABBA

NUMBER: 444 (Protection; Yes I'm assigning them angel numbers)

PLANTS: Starblush (GOW-canon plant), Osteospermum (irl-equivalent), Sunflowers

SMELLS: Warm Spices (Vanilla, Myrrh, Anise), Touches of Vetiver and Sandalwood

GEMSTONE: Amber, Carnelian, Jasper

TIME OF DAY: High Noon

SEASON: Peak Summer

PLACES: Vanaheim Forrests, Field of Flowers during High Noon, Edges of Cliffs as the Sun Settles

FOOD: Kale and White Bean Stew, Fresh Baked Bread, Oven-Braised Veal

DRINKS: Pink Grapefruit Punch, Fresh Orange Juice

ELEMENT: Light / Fire

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: Leo babeyyy

SEASONINGS: Star Anise, Allspice, and Cubeb

SKY: High Noon and Golden Hour

WEATHER: Clear Skies

MAGICAL POWER: Aethimancy (Aether Magic / Pure Elemental Magic), Solar Magic, Soul Guidance / Empathetic Casting

WEAPONS: None; If I had to choose… Some sort of spear. Something like Draupnir, but less… important? Notable.

SOCIAL MEDIA: Instagram. I just know his ass is making boomerang-style stories and posting OOTDs and has his feed all curated and pretty with divider posts and all (and that format is plant photo, selfie, matching plant photo; he coordinates the plants to his outfit)

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Highlighter

CANDY: Honey-Flavored Hard Candy (Made with organic honey, ofc)

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: Flight

ART STYLE: Fauvism, Rococo

FEAR: Isolation, Disappointment

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Centaur (different mythos, but the Norse equivalent ain't quite right. But I can so see him being a horse-type)

PIECE OF STATIONARY: Ribbon / Twine (Do they count? I'm saying they do)

THREE EMOJIS: ✨ ☀️ 🌻

CELESTIAL BODY: The Sun, of course

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CHARACTER: Hrebjorg the Kind; Seeress / Prophetic Witch / Devotee of Freya

ANIMAL: Alexandria's Birdwing Butterfly

COLORS: Green, Turquoise, Gold

MONTH: June

SONGS: The Painted Bird // Billy Vicente | Poet, Soldier, King // The Oh Hellos

NUMBER: 222 (Alignment)

PLANTS: Soulblossom (GOW-canon plant), Cuckoo Flower, Lotus

SMELLS: Floral Scents (Orange Blossoms, Jasmine), with touches of Warmer Spices (Vanilla, Myrrh)

GEMSTONE: Amazonite, Emerald, Moss Agate

TIME OF DAY: Daybreak / First Light

SEASON: Late Spring / Early Summer

PLACES: Vanaheim Forests, On the Edges of the Denser Jungle, Tucked away under the shade of a large, weeping tree as the sun rises overhead

FOOD: Strawberry Pancakes, Peach Salad, Mushroom Risotto

DRINKS: Mint Lemonade, Raspberry Juice

ELEMENT: Earth / Time

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: Capricorn

SEASONINGS: Basil, Cloves, Cinnamon

SKY: Clear Skies

WEATHER: Sun Shower (Raining while Sunny), or those moments after an intense storm where the sun begins to shine through the clouds and illuminate the very wet, very green grass

MAGICAL POWER: Organic Plant Magic, Animancy, Prophetic Divination

WEAPONS: Bow and Arrow

SOCIAL MEDIA: Pinterest, but also? Twitch. She's the type to do longer 'Just Chatting' streams that's just her going about her daily chores and such because it's a social activity (and she'd love helping younger seeress...es…? Find safe ways to practice)

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Lip Stain

CANDY: Sugared Berries

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: Walking

ART STYLE: Art Deco, Art Nouveau

FEAR: Imperfection, Failure, Ridicule

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Skogvættir / Huldufólk (Hidden people, with a particular emphasis on the Skogvættir demanding respect for the forest)

PIECE OF STATIONARY: Handmade Paper (eg., Plantable Seed Paper)

THREE EMOJIS: 🌿 🌈 ⌛

CELESTIAL BODY: Crab Nebula <3

[violettduchess]

Could you do sensory description of the new princes (what they look like, smell like, taste like, sound like, feel like)?

thank you, i love your writing so much ❤❤

A/N: Thank you anon for the request! This was a really interesting one to think about and write.

Word Count: 772

Silvio Ricci

He looks like the ocean kissed by gold, the play of light and shadow shooting through the soft strands of his hair. His eyes are a blue that shine with the light of endless self-confidence. When annoyed, they cut like the roughest of sapphires. When angry, they turn as cold as a winter’s morning devoid of clouds. And for you, they burn bright as blue lava, his desire as hot as sulfur when it kisses the air.

He smells like luxury. Like sea salt. Like the perfumed lotions of far-away isles you have only heard of, but never seen. 

He sounds like blades coming together in combat, voice sharp and cutting. That voice is wielded as deftly as a chef would a knife, knowing exactly how to make his mark, how to make those tiny cuts sting. Thousands of them if it suits him. Lingchi. And yet….that same sharp voice can be gentle in a way only you know, the iron of those blades melting down into something smooth, something blunt yet paradoxically soft. 

He tastes decadent and tart, lemons and ruby chocolate, flecked with gold. You would think a mouth as rude as his, as cruel as his, would be rough, unyielding, unpleasant, but it isn’t. He is effervescent and you drink it in, the taste lingering on your tongue like the finest prosecco.

He feels like the stones that have been caressed by the ocean for centuries, smooth and cool and pleasant to touch. Hard with lean muscle. Your hands never tire of touching him, of discovering the secrets underneath his gold and silks and furs, of exploring the truth of him.

Keith Howell

He looks like the embodiment of when your heart beats for something soft and sweet. The soft gasp of ‘aww’ when you see something that touches you. His hair, ash blond waves that beg you to brush them away from the gold of his eyes. His long, lean body a shelter. You want to feel his strong arms wrap around you and allow yourself to be engulfed by all that he is.

He smells like wheat fields in summer, golden and drenched in warm sunlight. An earthen scent full of welcome and promise.

He sounds like the rustle of wind through forest branches, soft-spoken and almost shy. But beware for wind is capricious. It is the destructive squall as easily as the gentle breeze. You haven’t heard him grow forceful…..yet. The promise of it lingers sometimes when he trails off, the faint rattling of branches echoing in your ears.

He tastes sweet and soft, like strawberries and cream. He is gentle, imploring but never demanding. Never overwhelming. And if every now and again, his teeth sink into your lip hard and draw a gasp from your throat, you chalk it up to eagerness. Nothing more.

He feels like heaven, like your hands have been given the sky made tangible, from the soft cloud of his hair to the expanse of his shoulders, wide as the firmament above. He is warm as sunshine to your touch, all of him divine. 

Gilbert von Obsidian

He looks like the night, from the moonlight of his skin to the soft darkness of his hair. His one eye is mercurial, so many alluring shades of red: the bright red of poppy petals, the deep red of roses, the sparkling cherry red of rubies and the stark crimson red of blood.

He smells like a winter’s night, clean with a crisp bite, sharp when you breathe him in, a cold that nearly hurts, that rides the very cusp of being unpleasant and yet you keep breathing in, over and over again. 

He sounds like silk velvet. You want to shed your clothing and wrap his voice around you, let it touch every part of your bare skin. To luxuriate in the feeling of all that softness, to wrap yourself so tightly in it you can’t move, a prisoner to his intonation, his inflection, his heady words.

He tastes like dark chocolate, melting in your mouth and making a memory of any other taste that was there before. Rich, bittersweet, and sublime. Not a taste for everyone. Only some appreciate it and oh, you do. You savor him down to the last morsel.

He feels cool, his skin the soft sheen of first snow as it coats the earth. Your fingers press into that cold, unabashedly eager as they run over the landscape of his body, seeking the heat that burns underneath. Gilbert, febrile and frost, a fantasy made flesh to your touch.

🔹

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @gilbertvonobsidian

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 10: The Wheels On The Bus Goes Skrt Skrt Skrt

It didn't take me long to pack. I didn't have anything at all, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me and Percy. Both having nothing to carry we decided to share a bag. The camp store loaned us one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth, Percy and I each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally. Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told us had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector. Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes. We waved good-bye to the other campees, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood a surfer looking dude. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck. "This is Argus," Chiron told us. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things." I heard footsteps behind us. Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you." Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around. I looked at him with a frown. "Don't look at me like that. I had to find out from the others you're going on a quest." he glared. "So much for the option you won't die at." "I would've told you if you were at the cabin when I got back. Now what's with the shoes?" "Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these." He handed him the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal. Luke said, "Maia!" White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, Percy dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared. "Awesome!" Grover said. Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turned sad. I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. But here he was giving Percy a magic gift.... It made me a bit jealous. "Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks." "Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?" They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out. The three went to Chiron about stuffs while Luke and I had a staring contest. "So Percy got a present and I only get an I don't know... a hug? Here I thought I was your favorite." "What made you think you are?" He laughed and ruffled my hair. "And no you don't get a hug." "Suddenly I'm not coming back." He smiled and from his back he pulled out a sheathed knife. "I meant to say you won't get only a hug. I noticed you're not a fan of swords. So, I made this my self. I am no Hephaestus child but hey..." He handed me the knife. The sheath was plain colored with a metal chap and locket, it had chains attached to the locket where I could probably put it on something to make sure I bring it with me. Pulling the knife out of the sheath, its knife was around 15 inches. On the blade, Ancient Greek was engraved on it. I think it's my name and the other side is his. "What is this?" I grinned. "I don't know. I ran out of good ideas! I swear I looked up some of Plato and Socrates for that." "And you settled for that?" I laughed. "I am going to take that back now." "Hey, that doesn't mean I don't like it. Thanks." "It's celestial bronze... Half of it at least." "Half?" "I'm sure Chiron won't appreciate it. It will harm both us and humans." "So... It'll hurt both side?" "Yup. And I'm not sure but according to a Hephaestus kid but it's supposed to glow when its near something." "Its not glowing now." "We never said no backsies. I'd like it back now." "I'll take good care of..." I stopped to think of a name and almost immediately remembered a perfect one, "Sting." "I would ask but I already know." Luke shook his head. "Be careful with Sting. It---" "He. Sting is a he, thank you very much." "HE, is lethal. He it can kill us, others close to our kind and normal humans." "Oops I accidentally stabbed myself." With a worried look he pulled me in a hug, "And whatever happens. Put your safety above all. No need to be the hero. If you die in this quest I will get the lord of the dead revive you or kill me." "Ew how sentimental." "Be careful... okay? All of you. Promise me that." "Fine, I promise. On the knife, I'll come back not dead, with everyone." After Luke was gone, I placed the knife on my waist. I went back to Percy. "Okay, that's extremely cool," I heard him say. "What's cool?" I grinned standing behind Percy overlooking his shoulder. "My new pen." He showed me his pen and uncapped it only to show a sword. "I can't loose it no matter what! Its called Riptide." "But what if a mortal sees you pulling out a sword?" Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Y/N." "Mist?" "I just keep hearing that over and over can someone finally explain?" "Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality." Percy put Riptide back in his pocket. For the first time, the quest felt real. We was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. We was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a knife to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead. "Chiron..." I said. "When you say the gods are immortal... I mean, there was a time before them, right?" "Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age." "So what was it like... before the gods?" Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born." "But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" Chiron gave us a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny." "Our destiny... assuming we know what that is." "Relax," Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history." "Relax," Percy said. "I'm very relaxed." When we got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur. I took Percy's hand and we gave each other a reassuring nod. I wish us luck. Talking whilst at camp drained me. I apologize if I won't be much help. You have stamina? So you aren't a bigshot all powerful god? Without you and I as one. I am nothing. I have given you my everything.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Percy was sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall. "So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster." She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain." "Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?" "I don't hate you." "Could've fooled me." She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals." "Why?" She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her." "They must really like olives." I interjected. "Not you too! You know what? Forget it." "Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand." "I said, forget it!" In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me. Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain. Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, Percy and I didn't let go. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with Percy's picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? He ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice. "They could've at least gotten a better picture." I smirked which caused him to roll his eyes. Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction Percy was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?" I stared at Percy then at Grover. "Were you reading my mind or something?" "Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?" Percy nodded. I missed my parents of course, but I had Luke and Grover to talk to which made me less lonely. Percy became an outcast when we got to camp and had no one to talk to. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile. "Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told him. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura.... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week." "Thanks," Percy said. "Where's the nearest shower?" "You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better." I knew what Percy was thinking. He was thinking of the fact we'll get his mom and my parents. How we'll save them all. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. I wasn't too bad myself. The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but we were too busy cracking up. Percy pulled me to a corner, after excusing ourselves for a bathroom break. "You finally going to tell me about this quest?" "The truth is," He started. "I don't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble." I gave him a look that reassured him to continue. "The more I thought about it, I resented my father for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed me because he needed a job done. All I cared about was you and my mom. The underworld god had taken her unfairly, and he is going to give her back." "Percy, we don't even know what's going on. Yeah, he might have her. But what is there's another reason? We don't exactly know anything. I don't even think my parents are with him." "Well, no matter where they are. We will get them back. The least I could do is get them back." He rested his head on my shoulder. "Don't "You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend," "What?" I froze. "Percy... I would never---" "You will fail to save what matters most in the end." "What are you talking about?" The rain kept coming down. "The rest of the prophecy. Y/N, I don't want you to betray me. Please... don't." I could hear his voice breaking. "Of course I won't. We'll get this quest done. We won't loose anyone and we'll get our parents. Don't worry." I hugged him. "I will stay with you. I won't leave and I won't betray you." "Hey Bonnie and Clyde, we need to go." Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air. "What is it?" I asked. "I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing." But I could tell it wasn't nothing. I took Percy's hand and started looking over my shoulder, too. I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh. As the last passengers got on, I immediately clamped my hand onto Percy's knee. "Percy." It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face. I scrunched down in my seat. Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers. And I was now sure, Mrs. Rudolph was one of them. They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves. The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime." "I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not." "All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!" "Who knows maybe they just want to play?" I said nervously. Annabeth gave me a look of irritation, "Not now," she said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows." "They don't open," Grover moaned. "A back exit?" she suggested. There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel. "Maybe a nice chat would help?" "They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?" "Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist." "They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof... ?" We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain. Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room." "So do I," said the second sister. "So do I," said the third sister. They all started coming down the aisle. "I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat." "What?" "You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away." "But you guys—" "There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering." "I can't just leave Y-- you guys!" "Don't worry about us," I assured him. "Go!" His hands were trembling. But I took the Yankees cap and put it on. And he simply vanished. Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at a spot. My heart was pounding. Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going. "Maybe if they approach us, I could try talking? I really was Mrs. Rudolph's favorite..." I stammered. "Yeah stage is yours." Annabeth answered. The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips. The Furies surrounded us, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?" The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right. "He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!" The Furies raised their whips. "Don't!" I stepped in front of them shaking. "H-Hi Mrs. Rudolph. W-What could you need?" Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it. To our surprise the bus jerked to the right. Everybody howled as we were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows. "Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!" The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us. We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins. Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river. The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. It was as if I didn't exist which was kinda offensive. "Hey! I'm also here!" I yelled pulling out my now glowing knife and helped Grover. "Hey!" A voice from the door way echoed. "Percy you idiot! Run!" I yelled. The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at him. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather. Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward him like huge nasty lizards. I don't know how but I managed to parkour my way to avoid them and get to Percy in no trouble. I raised my knife and stood in between of them. "Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die. I suggest you step away from him Y/N L/N." "I liked you better as a math teacher," he told her. She growled. Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening. Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword. The Furies hesitated. Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. "Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment." "Nice try," I told her. "Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried. Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at him. I managed to keep one of them and parried with her using my knife., which turned out to be Mrs. Rudolph. "I hate to admit it but you were my favorite teacher. Why go mean now?!" I struck with the hilt of my knife against her, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned to see Percy had sliced the Fury on his right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. "Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!" Mrs. Rudolph came at me again, talons ready, but I dove in and got in range to swing Sting at her and she broke open like a piñata. Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down. "Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!" "Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled. I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!" Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck. "Get out!" Annabeth yelled at us. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement. Taking Percy's hand, we rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword. "Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—" BOOOOOM! The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead. "Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!" We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

UwU Haha this is what the knife looks like since I'm not sure if I describe it that well... Omg I just realized my brother changed the chapter title lmao -kookie-doughs

Just imagine it has your name on the blade.

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[a-dorin]

feral | darth maul

word count: 1.760k

warnings: nsfw, sex pollen(and its effects), oral (receiving), smut, filthy language, cursing, nudity, pet names, mentions of ovulation, horn kink

a/n: i incorporated a request, along with sex pollen for this one! i hope you guys like it, as i am really proud of it! if you wanted to be added to my taglist, let me know. enjoy our favorite zabrak, consumed with lust from copious amounts of sex pollen! 

prompt:  “Please, I need a fic of Savage, or Maul, just dying slowly in his rut, just smelling the reader ovulating and internally going nuts from all the hormones”

(not my gif)

it was almost as if he was suffocating. 

as if someone had their hands around his throat, choking him. maker, was this feeling unmatched. it was overwhelming, flooding his body with one, primal, desire. the zabrak shook his head, a low growl erupting him from his lips. his insides burned, his body temperature elevated. he was panting, his breaths coming out ragged, shortened. 

he had to quench this fire consuming him whole. 

and he had to do it now. 

“m-master?” your sweet, innocent voice filled his ears, “are you all right?”

the zabrak eyes blazed, an intense, smoldering amber as they fell on you, “i’m fine.”

wrinkling your nose, you arched a brow, “are you sure? you smell so.. sweet. did you roll around in wildflowers on your way back?”

his hearts thudded as a whiff of your scent flooded his nostrils. your scent was heavenly, an alluring mix of sandalwood, starflower, white agarwood, and amber. a trace of starflower lingered as well. he could sense your pheromones, ears pricking up on the dull beating of your heart as you gazed at him, depths glimmering with concern. 

maker, was he ready to pounce. 

but, not yet. 

time was not of the essence in this case. the effects of the pollen would last the entirety of the night. and maul was patient. he was calculating your every response in his mind. although he could sense your unease through the force, he didn’t want to extract the thoughts swimming in that little brain of yours.

hearing the words tumble from those pretty little lips of yours would be far more satisfying. 

in the moonlight, your exposed skin glowed, a bright, softened, greyish-blue glow. a loose tunic hung from your frame, your nipples hardened, peaking out through the thin fabric. your thighs were full, the skin so tantalizing. if only he could feel it against his tongue. maul blinked, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him. 

if this was a mere mirage, an illusion. 

or, if this was reality, and you were standing before him, aching and desperate for him. 

“you’re ovulating,” his eyes narrowed, “i can practically smell your arousal, little one.”

satisfaction rushed through him as pink dusted your cheeks, “w-what are you talking about?”

the zabrak cleared his throat, “i can sense the desire consuming you. it’s gnawing away at you, and the way your cheeks flushed tell me everything i need to know. there is no need to lie, (y/n).”

“okay, okay,” you muttered, cheeks burning crimson now, “perhaps you’re right. but what are you going to do about it? besides, i think i recognize that sickening scent.”

“please, tell your master what you believe it is.”

“somehow, you encountered sex pollen. did you walk in a field of wildflowers?” your tone was smooth, the words confident. 

the purr intensified, “i may have stumbled across some. yet, there is nothing more i would like to do right now than take care of your problem, little one. would you let your master help you? it would be a fair trade.”

“i don’t think you have the-” you began, but maul practically lunged forward, his lips merely centimeters away from yours. 

“just because i don’t have the same anatomy as my other males of my species does not mean that i cannot feel or give pleasure,” his words pierced right through you, directly to your core, “do not underestimate me, little one.”

“i never said i-”

the words formed, yet didn’t come out as his lips collided with yours, the kiss hungry and open-mouthed, desperate to establish dominance. you couldn’t help but submit, nearly collapsing as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth. deepening the kiss, a guttural growl rumbled in his throat as your hand, so soft and delicate, rested on his chest, tracing the tattoos woven on his skin. your lips were plump, a trace of strawberries lingering. 

the lust that threatened the zabrak intruded his mind completely, any coherent thought slipping from his mind. 

he was bordering the line, his inhibitions crumbling away by the second. 

maul was about to go feral. 

a yelp bounced off the walls as maul scooped you into his arms, grasping you by your thighs. your arms looped around his neck as he clambered towards the lower deck, in the direction of his personal quarters. he took no time, reaching the destination within minutes. 

as soon as he stepped foot in the space, he threw you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress. the zabrak looming over you was on longer maul, your master. the aura hanging over him was nothing but pure lust, his instincts shrouding his logic. yet, you couldn’t help but feel the wetness between your thighs. how you were just as desperate as he was. how you yearned for a touch. his touch. 

his body was on top of yours now, the heat radiating off of him in thick, intense waves. lips connected with yours once more, the kisses needy, craving more. his hands tugged at your tunic, the fabric crinkling between his fingers. 

“you can take it off,” your lips brushed against his.

“so eager,” maul panted, “do you really want me to take it off, little one?”

you nodded, earning a hum of approval, “as you wish.”

a horrid, tearing noise rang through the room as your tunic fell of your frame, crumpling to the mattress. your breath hitched in your throat as maul’s eyes raked over your exposed body, the amber hue darkening to a deep, murky honey. 

“you didn’t wear anything underneath.”

“i didn’t say rip it off,” you muttered, a flash of irritation ringing through your mind. 

a hand covered your mouth, “hush. i will replace it.”

warm, callused hands roamed all over your flesh. maul licked his lips, savoring how your skin felt under his touch. how it was so smooth. so soft. so human. 

his hands cupped your breasts, the zabrak rolling your nipples between his fingers. a breathy, broken moan dripped from your lips. his mouth met with your neck, gently nipping as he placed a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down, ensuring that he plastered you with love bites. you were his, and he wanted to ensure that you knew.

every single move was electrifying, the air crackling with tension as maul had his way with you, peppering kisses all over your collarbone and chest. a shiver ran down your spine the moment his tongue flicked over your nipple, a whimper flooding the zabrak’s ears. 

“you’re so beautiful,” maul murmured against the underside of your breast as he painted another mark, “i could ravish you all night.”

your hands wrapped around his horns, desperately clinging on as his mouth drifted lower, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched. the sensation was blissful, pleasure rippling through your body, pressure building in your abdomen.

“now what do we have here?” a purr rumbled from the zabrak as he parted your thighs, “my gods are you soaking. is this all for me?” 

blush spread through your cheeks, “it is, master.”

maul slipped a finger between your folds, his eyes hardening as you squirmed, bucking your hips, “i see that my apprentice needs a lesson on patience.” 

“i am patient,” the words were a groan as his thumb circled your clit. 

“i don’t believe that,” maul chuckled darkly, “you’re practically riding my finger as i touch you. little one, you’re eager for me. i promise i will take care of you.” 

the zabrak drank in the sight of you. although he was beyond the point of thinking coherently, drunk with lust, he knew the image would be permanently ingrained in his mind. he would remember the way you core glistened in the light, the way love bites, from his mouth no less, were plastered all over your skin. 

the way your eyes shone. 

ablaze with longing. yearning for to fulfill the fantasies hazing your mind. 

craving for him. 

your taste coated his taste buds as he buried his head between your thighs, his nose brushing against your folds as he delved deeper, aching to feel it all drip onto his tongue. 

maker, was the taste divine. 

it was pure ambrosia, ecstasy washing over maul as he consumed you. 

your moans were melodic, his arms wrapped around your thighs, clutching onto your hips, pinning you down. pleasure racked your body, your head thudding against the pillow, jaw slack as he lapped away at your core, the juices dribbling down his chin, onto the sheets. 

the heat of his tongue was blissful as it flicked over your clit, the zabrak purring as he inserted a finger into you. the action was effortless, his finger pumping in and out, curling as it entered you. pressure was building in your abdomen, coaxing you closer and closer to orgasm. 

you were a mess underneath him, bucking your hips, riding his tongue as he fucked you with not only one finger, but two. he was pushing so deeply inside you, almost to the knuckle. the way you gripped his horns sent euphoria crashing over the zabrak, his hearts thudding. 

and maker was the sight of you oh so gratifying. 

“i can feel your walls tightening around my fingers,” his breath was hot, amber eyes glossed over with satisfaction, “are you getting close?” 

nodding meekly, the words were strained through gritted teeth, “i’m so close.”

maul’s pace of his fingers intensified, “that’s a good girl. you’re my good girl, (y/n). you’ve been so behaved for me, taking my tongue so well. you can cum.”

the moment he was finished, his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud. 

you unfolded, collapsing onto the mattress. 

stars burst in your vision, dancing as your thighs trembled. maul lapped away, ensuring that he savored the taste of you on his tongue as you came, orgasm racking your body. your breathing was shortened, ragged as he pulled away, his lips glazed with your juices. 

“here,” maul murmured, his voice delicate, “taste yourself.”

parting your lips, you licked his fingertips, earning a praise, “good girl.”

maintaining eye contact, you sucked on the digits, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, a noise you had never heard before tumbling from his lips. 

the sound was sweet, flowing so beautifully from his lips, like honey. 

maul nearly melted.

“h-how can i please you master?” you inquired, keeping his hand close to your mouth. 

narrowing his eyes, a smirk crept onto his features, eyes glowing amber in the night. 

“come here.”

*****

tagged:  @sapphicstars @bonniewinchester  @pameladoesthings , @maulieber  @bonesaldente  @arsonistvoyager @fallenrepublick @princessayveke @queenlagerthaa @starflyer-104 @catsnkooks @tinalbion @brilliantbutbatty  @gczanetti1  @spaghetti-666 @moonsingers  @theclonewarsbrokeme  @amberkay284 @nik-barinova  @amvabril @charbokbok @obiorbenkenobi @theonethatdoesnthavedisneyplus @witchy-goth-unicorn @alwayshappysith @mother-0f-monsters @lastoneoutturnoutthelights @splittothebone @vei-saretti @isabewwwa @latran5k @bvnsolo @sithmando​ 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 23)

When Hao-Bai had mentioned that they were nearing the end of the grassland, Azula hadn’t thought that, that would mean entering a forest that seemed just as endless. It is such a stark contrast to the still quietness of the plains. Here in the forest there is movement all around and a noise for every nook and cranny.

It leaves her with a potent sense of yearning. Yearning for another afternoon spent on the bridge with Hajime chucking chunks of bread at turtle-ducks. He always had to remind her to either take smaller chunks or throw them less forcefully. “They are light and I have to make sure that I throw them hard enough to reach the turtle-ducks.”

Hajime would roll his eyes and mutter, “you and Atsu are horrible.”

There is no pond in this forest as far as she can see and there are no turtle-ducks. There are, however, scampering toad-squirrels and lop-eared rabbits. A lively abundance of them. It is rather comforting.

“How much better are you feeling?” Hao-Bai asks.

“Significantly. Why?”

“Min-Ta and I could use some help with something if you are able.”

Azula nods, whatever it is, she supposes it is the least she can do given that they have saved, cared for, cleaned, and fed her. “What do you need help with?”

Hao-Bai brings the ostrich-horses to a halt, slips off of it, and retrieves an axe.  He gestures to the second, empty cart. “I’m a lumberjack by trade, an extra hand would be very helpful, if you’re able.”

She takes the axe. “I used to harvest turnips…”

He offers her a gentle smile. “Long as you’ve got some arm strength and pick the right trees, it isn’t so hard.”

Azula shifts the axe in her arm and gives the forest a skeptical scan. None of the tree trunks looks particularly small. This isn’t exactly a beginner friendly forest. “This is going to take hours?”

Hao-Bai chuckles. “My wife and I can down trees in fourteen to fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve been doing this for a long time.” Azula counters. “I did gardening.” Gardening and firebending better than the best of people. Once upon a time she could scale buildings and take down foes twice her height and weight. But, Agni, it has been so long and that vast plain has drained her so thoroughly. She isn’t sure that she still has her shine. She hasn’t exactly retained her toned build.

“You said that your name is Azula, right?” Min-Ta asks.

She nods.

“As in Princess Azula?”

She nods again.

“Then I’m sure that you can handle this.” The woman smiles. “It’s all about knowing when blunt force is required and when it’s time to start sawing.”

Again she tests the weight of the axe in her hands.

“Follow me, I can show you.” Hao-Bai motions. The man has her standing before a massive pine. “A lot of people seem to think that it’s all about the axe. Really the axes is used to give you  a start. Give it a good hit, a sixty degree angle ought to do it.” He pauses, presumably to make sure that she is still following. She confirms with a nod and he returns it before continuing. “You are going to make a decent notch at the base of the tree, put the axe down, and start sawing. Your tree will fall in the direction of the notch.” He pauses once more. “I think it’s common sense, but, in case they don’t teach that in your nobility schools, after you make that last strike you run in the opposite direction of the fall. But don’t go straight back, in case the tree decides to fall the wrong way. You go off to the side a bit.”

He creates his first notch, “I anticipate the tree falling that way.” He points. “So when I make the final chop, I wanna be right here.” He comes to stand several feet back and well off to the side.

“I could have figured that out.”

He shakes, “had a young man who couldn’t, I don’t take that chance now.” He holds up the saw and brings it to the trunk. “Watch me first, then you and my wife can get to work.”

She finds herself a spot to sit and observes the man as he sinks his axe into the tree one final time. With a notch created to his liking. He takes to it with a saw. Within minutes there comes a great crack. And with the great crack comes a great toppling. Somehow, she finds it sad to watch such a proud and majestic thing drop. To see it’s vivid green branches meet the ground. She wonder if this is what it was like to watch her fall.

She gets to her feet and makes her way over to the smallest tree that she can find. Mimicking the arc of Hao-Bai’s arms to the best of her ability. And when axe meets three, the force of it vibrates down her arm and to her chest.

Her strike doesn’t deal as much damage as Hao-Bai’s had. She recalls that she has never really been one for powerful hits and jabs but rather subtle and effective ones. She is quick and nimble, she isn’t a tank like Hao-Bai.

Her work isn’t so quick and it takes several blows to create a worthy knotch. She is breathless by the time she begins to make use of the saw. And she breathes heavier still by the time she cuts it all the way through. When it falls it kicks up a satisfying aroma of damp bark and sap.

Every now and then Hao-Bai pauses his work to steal a glance at her. The burly man doesn’t seem to mind that she is only able to fell one tree for every three that he and his wife take down.

Azula find that even when she is through with her work she can hear it in her ears, a steady and rhythmic knocking. Her hands are well and calloused again and her muscles throb. She has to finish one last tree. Just one more.

By the time, Hao-Bai is satisfied with their haul, the crickets are waking and the night chill has begun to set in. She is covered in sap and smells lightly of sweat and heavily of resin. She hasn’t felt so sore since the last time she’d run through the hardest of her katas.

She huffs and has herself a seat on one of their newly chopped stumps. She fans herself with her hand.

“Here you go.” Min-Ta holds out a steaming bowl.

Azula takes it and cradles it in her palms, savoring the way it warms them.

“Thank you for your help. Means a lot.” Hao-Bai pats her shoulder. “Ya did good work.”

Azula nods. She stirs her soup and brings the spoon to her lips. She likes to think that she catches onto things quickly. She furrows her brows into her soup, strangely quickly. She wonders if she is better suited to be a peasant than a princess. Wonders if she had gotten it wrong all along, that she hadn’t been born with the divine right to rule, but rather the divine right to do literally anything but.

“I always heard that the Fire Nation did things differently,” Min-Ta remarks as though reading her mind, “I didn’t realize that royalty was trained to labor.”

“I’m self taught.” Azula shrugs. Though the labors of war must count as well.

“All the better.” Hao-Bai chuckles.

Azula hands her empty bowl back and wanders her way over to the caravan. The lumberjack begins tuning his guitar as she retires for the night. She unbinds her hair and curls herself up.

“You really wore her out.” Ta-Min laughs.

“The woman is a hard worker.” He notes.

She supposes that it is kind to fall asleep to compliments. It has been a while since she has. She falls asleep to a now familiar singing and the delicate strings of a pipa. Atsu and Caihong would have loved the melody. That day she learns to appreciate a day of hard work.

.oOo.

TyLee hands her a glass of water, “how are your crops?”

Azula gestures to them and frowns, “the strawberries have begun growing in the turnip garden.”

She isn’t sure how that could have come to be until she catches Sokka grimacing. “I might have mixed up the seeds, maybe.”

“How?” Azula grumbles. “Turnip seeds are a blackish red and strawberry seeds are more of a yellow-brown.”

“Does it really matter, they’re growing just fine?”

“They are supposed to be growing just fine in neat and separate crops.” Azula folds her arms over her chest.

“Or, they can grow happily together.” He wraps his arms around her torso and rests his chin on her shoulder.

“You can get as cuddly as you want, Sokka, that won’t change that you are a dreadful gardener.”

He kisses her neck. “I don’t need to be a good gardener as long as I am a helpful and supportive one.”

TyLee clasps her hands together, “you guys are so-o cute.” She turns to Mai, “they’re cute, aren’t they.”

Mai shrugs. “Sure.”

Azula wiggles her way out of his grasp, picks up a spade, and closes Sokka’s finger around it. “You are going to help me dig these up and plant them where they belong, with the other strawberries.”

“Is that even possible?”

Azula nods, “I’ve seen Seukhyun do it. As long as you don’t damage the roots…” She pauses. “Actually, I’ll worry about the strawberries, you dig me a few holes to put them in. They should be spaced approximately eighteen inches apart for ample growing room. Use a measuring tape if you must.”

He rubs the back of his head. “Geeze, you’re taking this gardening thing seriously.”

“Sokka, do you know what you get when you don’t take this gardening thing seriously?”

“What?”

“A dead strawberry field and complaining townsfolk.”

“There are no complaining townsfolk in this scenario.”

“I’m the complaining townsfolk, Sokka.”

The man sighs and she gives him a faux-innocent smile, a bat of her lashes. “Alright fine, eighteen inches apart.”  He hooks her around the middle again and gives her a gentle shake before taking the shovel. “You better appreciate my hard work.”

“Do a good job and I will.” Azula shrugs.

For a good while she simply observes his work. Only when she is satisfied that he is doing it to her liking does she begin carefully digging the strawberries out of their current places. “We’re going to need more turnip seeds to fill in the spaces left by the strawberries.”

“Then let’s go into town and buy some seeds.”

“We’ll finish here first.” Azula carefully plucks the first strawberry from its place and tucks it into the hole that Sokka has just dug. It is tedious and methodical work, but eventually she has the transplant done.

She stands up and dusts the dirt off of her knees and palms. Regardless she is going to need a bath. “Ready?”

“You’re not going to get all washed up first?”

Azula shrugs. “We’re going to the marketplace, not a prestigious theater.” She brushes a sweep of hair out of her face. The look on Sokka’s tells her that he is still unused to some of her more lax mannerisms. Though she is certain that it relaxes him.

.oOo.

Somehow he still has to get used to seeing her like this. Free and relatively untroubled. Confused and still hurt but able to smile. In one hand she holds her small burlap pouch of seeds, in the other is his hand.

Her touch is warm and somewhat calloused but soft all the same. Her personality seems to have a very similar texture.

He think that she enjoys being out and about, wandering the streets of Caldera city with a breeze in her hair. Especially now that she has grown accustomed to people gawking every  now and again. He is under the impression that they like to stare simply because she has only just begun making more intimate public appearances. It might also be that she is holding hands with a waterbender with a light dusting of dirt on her robes.

He listens to her has she explains her exact vision for their garden and how they should approach it, nodding and commending her perfect attention to detail. It is nice to see her being so enthusiastic about something.

Truth be told, he rather hated gardening. He never had to worry about it in the tribes and it always came hard to him. But he finds that he doesn’t have to pretend to be interested, her own delight is rather easy to cling to.

“We could also try planting bananas.” She muses. Though he isn’t sure if she is actually speaking to him anymore or if she is talking to herself. “But I heard that those are more challenging and I would like to--” She stops short and brings her walk to a halt.

“Why are we--”

She seems to study the crowd very intensely and his stomach squirms. Until now it has slipped his mind that there might still be people who harbor resentment towards her. But when she locks eyes, it is with a child. A small girl with ruddy cheeks, long hair, and vivid green, Earth Kingdom eyes.

“Rikka!” She shouts.

Azula’s face pales. Her hand goes stiff in his.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold I

Percy is a God: Part I

Masterlist for the next part and more of my stuff

Y’all already know what this is!!!!!!!! But if you don’t then click this to find out. And i hope you enjoy Percy as a god cause i definitely do ;) *shivers*

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We were warm and shivering,

and young and ancient,

and alive.

-We Were Liars, E. Lockhart

Time is non-existent anymore. Percy should be twenty this year but now that he has ichor flowing through his veins, he can be 102 or 5. He has done things Homer would write epic poems about. If he were around at the dawn of time Ovid would have happily dedicated the Metamorphoses to him. But today Percy Jackson has been a god for three years and he has never felt more mortal in his life.

“Percy my boy, what are you doing here?”

“Hello Father, Camp Half-Blood is throwing a campfire in my honour and I thought it’d be rude not to show my face.”

“Very noble of you son. I remember back in my day the Greeks–“

Percy zoned out, tired of hearing how people bowed down to all these stuffy Olympians. The camp threw a celebration every year on the day he got immortalized and in return he reinforced the borders and blessed every demigod before they leave at the end of summer. He doesn’t know if he’s doing a good job, he doesn’t even know if what he does is making a difference, but he doesn’t know how else to give back to the camp and the people that saved his life again and again; who loved him and fought next to him and oh gods followed him into battle.

He’s never had the chance to talk to Chiron, who’s always busy with this demi-god and that satyr, and this nymph. He barely gets the chance to talk to all his old friends– between the new campers wanting to hear his stories and the general chaos of end of summer camp-life. He thanked the powers that be–what a jarring thought that he was one of those powers now– that he managed to find days in-between to see Annabeth and Grover.

He smiled to himself as he remembered the last time he saw Annabeth. She had been moving into her own apartment to start her third year at the University of New Rome. To his unsurprised delight she had chosen archaeology as her major but somehow slipped Latin and Ancient Histories into her schedule. He had helped carry bags and bags filled with books up to her room and they spent the day setting her up and making sure everything was in its place before she started the year.

Their relationship had progressed so softly, so slowly, Percy sometimes felt like he had imagined the year they had as a romantic couple. After he became a god they managed to go on a few dates, some interrupted by hothead immortals and revengeful monsters, and some blissfully alone. But once Annabeth started university and Percy was called again and again to help with this problem and that, it became a hassle to set up dates and figure out when to meet. They didn’t grow apart, so much as grow between. And although he missed the softness of Annabeth, he had gained a friend who knew him more deeply than any being alive– he was eternally grateful for that, and he couldn’t hate what they lost out on.

“Son, are you listening?” Poseidon pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes father, it really was a great time for you. I have to go now, but Iris message if you need me.” And without waiting for a reply Percy strode out of Olympus and into the streets below.

He considered snagging a car but decided against it, since you couldn’t very well drive into Camp Half-Blood. Instead he walked into the ocean and let the current take him all the way to Long-Island, till he could smell the strawberries on the ocean wind and hear the echoes of camp games and reedpipes.

He stepped onto the beach, loving the soft sinking impressions he made in the sand. After his blood turned gold he realized he could walk on the sand and make no footprints whatsoever. The idea scared him so much he sunk under water and cried for three hours. How could he leave nothing behind? How could he have no imprint? It was Tyson, riding on his rainbow hippocampi who found him and showed him how to balance his weight; showed him how to step into the sand and not on it. When his footprints reappeared once more, he hugged his brother so hard if Tyson weren’t a cyclops his ribs might have cracked.

So Percy walked up the beach and through the strawberry fields, taking the time to breathe in the forest air, the fruit breezes, and ah the smell of chaos.

“JACKSON!” Connor Stoll yelled.

And with that single announcement Percy was home.

The day was spent in good spirits: racing with various campers up the wall and avoiding every deadly thing it spat at you– even if he couldn’t really die; then eating in the dining hall and getting to travel between tables without getting glares from various houses or Chiron; laughing as all the food turned blue just for him.

When it was time Percy walked with some of his friends; Clarisse who grew to be a steady, if raging fire, by his side, and Connor Stoll who is now the oldest of the Hermes kids since Travis left for college, and of course Will who above everyone reserves the right to make sure his friends were protected.

In a moment of vulnerability, he broke down on Percy’s immortal shoulder and wept. I don’t want to bury anymore of my friends Percy. I don’t want to be tending to them as they die in my infirmary. I can’t do it anymore. For him, Percy double, sometimes in moments of obsessiveness, triple checked his border defenses.

Now the little group walks around the perimeter of the camp and talks softly and contentedly as Percy knocks against the shimmering force, leaking power into the hollow spots.

“How is everyone at camp?” He asked.

“Fine, nothing has changed much. Ever since the Giant War it feels as if everything has calmed down to a lull. I’m wary it’s the eye before the storm but gods-dammit we deserve a break.” Connor answered.

Percy hid the rage of that truth but let the ache of those words settle in his bones. He simply nodded at Connor and turned to Clarisse.

“Are there any new campers who need to be protected?”

“Only a few, a lot have moved to New Rome over the last years.” There was a bitter edge to her words, caused by the sting of loss.

“You cannot blame them for wanting a life that is not concentrated to three months of safety.”

“I know,” Her nostrils flared, she kicked the rock in front of her. “I know. It just sucks that there’s so few of us now.”

“Maybe we can see about hosting annual games at each camp over the summer?” He suggested, careful to not step where the cracks spidered underneath him– even if the labyrinth had collapsed there was still the chance something tunneled beneath.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Will piped up, “Maybe then I can convince Nico to stay for more than one week.” He rolled his eyes, but the glimmer of happiness in them gave away his annoyed pretense.

“I will talk to the Praetors over there and let you know.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

They turned to face him.

He stared at them for a moment, studying their faces. Even now, all these years later it was jarring to see the signs of growth in their make-ups. He couldn’t say aging, they were barely hitting their twenties, gods Will was still a teenager, albeit not for much longer; but it was weird to watch as they grew up, watch as time changed their features, changed them.

Clarisse, who used to be a spitfire of rage and fierce protectiveness was now, more a well-kept hearth. She was still full of flame, but it was contained, and her fierce was warm instead of scorching.

And Connor, who had been attached to his brother at the hip, was all grown up. Travis was three years into a degree and Connor, although a prospective honours student, had forfeited college until he could figure out what he wanted to do. He was the sole head of the Hermes cabin, but somehow, he kept up the mischief as if the two were still together. The shenanigans are some of Percy’s favourites to hear around the campfire.

And Will, who is dating Nico di Angelo. The two were often running between the camps, though Nico more than the child of Apollo. It was Will, Percy thought, who brought the camp together, more than anyone. And Will, who in the process had lost the most. For him, Percy would continue to be here every year, would continue to help if they called when they were in trouble. Because he too was tired of seeing his friends die. Tired of seeing his friends mourn.

“It’s almost time for me to go but I wanted to say,” He fought to choke back the rising wave of emotions, ���I wanted to say thank you. For keeping my home safe. And thank you for being my friends.”

Their hug lasted many moments, ribbons of friendship passing between them. And when Percy walked back into the sea, he was glad no-one could tell the difference between tears and ocean.

Friends, the word echoed in his head. So few and far between since he became a God. It was not that people feared him, they just became… wary. They fell into that space in-between, where one wrong move could plunge them into fear. When he first turned divine, he counted on his fingers how many friends he had, and if he didn’t have enough digits, he deemed it a good day. Now he can count with aching clarity all the people who loved him, and still have fingers to spare.

Annabeth asked him once if he regretted taking up Zeus’ offer, if he regretted turning his red blood gold.

He hadn’t answered her till three weeks later, over a three am phone call.

I don’t regret it, he had said, because I know I can help this way. I know I can protect my family and friends better this way. And when the phone had gone dark, he had whispered into the void of his room– an alcove of coral far, far, far underwater– I don’t regret it, but I’m so lonely. The tears at that admission did not stop flowing for many hours.

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Tags (If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere

@lesbian-peanuts

How are you feeling?? Cause i got 6K words for this fic and i don’t see myself stopping any time soon. Give me your thoughts young ones!!!!

[reveliohq]

welcome back to hogwarts, HARPER MACMILLAN ! enclosed here you will find all the necessary equipment for the upcoming school year. we await your owl by no later than twenty-four hours from now, or else you will lose your spot ! olivia holt is now taken.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎

(   *  💀  /  olivia holt, cis woman, she/her  )  —  is that harper macmillan i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty year old hufflepuff, returning for their sixth school year, but their friends would tell you that they are contentious & resourceful as well as fretful & credulous. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re pureblood, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: bare feet on a sunday morning, the smell of freshly baked cookies, looking at the world through rose colored glasses ; choosing to see only the best parts of everyone, bad jokes and belly laughs, the taste of strawberry lipgloss, and a field of flowers swaying in the summer breeze.  —  ( j, she/her, 21, est  )  

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

- harper really is the sweetest girl — she likes to spend her free time in the kitchens, helping the house elves prepare the student's meals. she also randomly bakes cookies for her friends, for no other reason than to show them that she cares about them and wants them to know that they're appreciated!

- she is like... the epitome of the whole "book smart, not street smart" cliche. she makes almost perfect marks, but the girl has absolutely no common sense! she's usually able to keep herself out of sticky situations, though; she can just be a bit... ditzy at times.

- throughout her years, she's definitely come out of her shell a lot but she is still definitely an introvert! she's made plenty of friends and doesn't mind going on the occasional trip/night out to hogsmeade, but she would honestly rather spend most of her nights curled up in her dorm room with a book and a cup of tea. honestly, though, one thing that she does hate is being the center of attention! having to present in front of the class? color her anxious!

- she is (and has been for the last handful of years) very politically active. she is a pureblood, but she not believe in blood supremacy; in fact, she thinks it's ridiculous to treat anyone differently because of the blood that runs through their veins. she does whatever she can (including joining the order) to bring more awareness to the issues that are prevalent in the wizarding world!

[queenjunoking]

Imprint

CW: Asphyxiation - Encasement - Manipulation - Noncon

Waking up that day had been horrible. Everything was dark. I had been afraid of going blind. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t move anything. I was inside something. It was unbearably hot and dark.

My arms and legs were each inside some kind of sleeve inside of whatever I was inside. I couldn’t move them around at all. Even though I knew they were at my side, I couldn’t feel them against my body. I started panicking even more. I tried to thrash around, but there was something of my horrible cocoon that wouldn’t allow me even the smallest wiggle.

I tried to scream. It’s what made me aware of the other horrible things. I couldn’t shut my mouth all the way, there was a tube I couldn’t dislodge. I felt tubes in my nose and I knew they were giving me air.

I couldn’t help but cry, if I had tubes for air then the other had to be for food or water. There was no reason to give me those things if I was going to be let out soon.

I screamed until my voice went hoarse. I could barely hear myself. It was an odd sensation. You’re so used to just being able to hear what you're saying that the idea of virtual silence when you know you’re screaming makes you feel utter loneliness. No one can hear you.

Not even you.

Time lost meaning almost immediately. There was only darkness and my own thoughts. I tried to count the seconds passing, trying to give time meaning, but that only made it worse. Counting the seconds in that cocoon only made them longer. What did it matter if I counted to twenty minutes? That just meant I knew twenty minutes would pass. How long would I have to keep counting? Hours? Days? Weeks? The idea of tracking time was its own kind of hell and with another round of tears I decided to abandon it.

The darkness was interrupted by the air being cut off. I tried thrashing again in vain. After a few moments I felt something coming out of the tube in my mouth. It was tasteless, but had a thick consistency. I gulped it down as quickly as I could, hoping that if I finished it I would get the air back.

A small trickle of water made its way down the tube, mostly likely to clean to goop out of it as well as to give me hydration. Once that stopped the air returned.

I couldn’t stop shaking. I was helpless. I had to drink whatever goop was being sent down the tube. Whoever put me in here could shut off the air. They could just decide to turn it off whenever they wanted too. They could just get bored of this one day and just shut it off.

I cried a new river of tears, but this one blissfully carried me off to sleep.

Until I was awakened by the air being shut off again. More goop. More water. I was practically sucking on the tubes to get it out faster so the air would be returned. Eventually I felt it fill my lungs. A precious resource I was now constantly afraid of losing.

I couldn’t fall back asleep at that point, I was just stuck in the timeless darkness. It wasn’t so different from being asleep. Except time moved faster when I slept. It came at the cost of not knowing how much time was passing.

The next few days were absolute hell. Or, at least I think it was days. I knew they were trying to trick me. Sometimes when I was awake I’d be fed several times in short succession. Sometimes there would be large gaps between feedings. The only reason I could think of at the time was that it was so I couldn’t use them to figure out what time it was. If feedings weren’t consistent I couldn’t use them to ground myself.

Though I say feedings as if food came out of the tube. It was only goop and water. I don’t think anything happened on the first day. I just got hungrier. I tried to beg for food through the tube in the muffled speech I thought I was capable of, but no mercy came. As time passed I felt myself getting weaker. My stomach hurt. I felt a hunger I had never felt before in my life. This was surely what it had to feel like to starve to death.

But one day I heard something. It was inside my head. A beautiful voice.

I love you. I’m sorry you are in so much pain. I am trying to find you. You will not die.

I struggled and begged the voice to talk again, but it had gone silent. It kept part of its promise, my stomach no longer hurt after I slept.

The days kept passing and I eventually realized the tubes in my nose and mouth weren’t the only ones. I had been fearing going to the bathroom while trapped in this prison, but I realized that someone had inserted a catheter in me. As time passed I needed to use it with increasing need, I didn’t really understand why. As humiliating as that was, I was afraid of the fact that I had nothing to take care of the other needs. But those other needs never came. It scared me to think of why, but I was glad that was never an issue.

Time kept ticking by. Goop, darkness, sleep. Sleep, darkness, goop. Darkness, goop,sleep. Darkness, goop, goop, goop, darkness, goop, sleep. It was a never ending cycle of being trapped in darkness with nothing to do but drink whatever was sent down the tube, sleep, and pray the voice would keep her promise and find me.

When I was first caught I would dream every time I slept. I saw places I had been, heard music, smelled freshly baked cookies and felt the embrace of another human. But as time passed the dreams vanished. I was having trouble keeping it together. All I could feel was the tight walls of whatever prison I was placed inside. I heard and smelled nothing. I saw darkness. Whoever caught me didn’t even have the mercy of flavoring whatever they were giving me.

I would have given anything to taste something again.

There were times I couldn’t stop screaming. I could barely hear myself, but that tiny bit of sound was evidence I was alive and not just thoughts in darkness. Screaming was how I coped with the crushing sensory deprivation. I reached a point where I blew out my voice and couldn’t scream again for what I think was days.

I was constantly tortured by my thoughts. Of everything I had ever done wrong. Of everything I put off. Of friends I wish I had seen just one more time. Music I wish I had put on repeat. Food I wish I had tried. People I wish I had just asked out.

But eventually those thoughts vanished. All my thoughts slowly did. I couldn’t do it anymore. But even though I couldn’t take it, I had no choice but to continue to try. The lack of stimuli was driving me insane. When my voice was capable of it I would just scream. When I had the energy I would thrash the best I could.

Eventually there was nothing. The goop and water stopped flowing for a long time. I couldn’t form thoughts anymore. Being asleep and awake had lost meaning. I was floating in nothingness. Surely I had to be dead.

But then I heard her.

Please eat. I am still trying to find you.

The goop began to flow again, but this time it tasted like strawberries. I could feel tears welling up at the mercy. I was alive.

Whenever the goop flowed I would hear her speak, asking me to keep eating.

That she loved me.

That I was strong.

So I ate for Her. The air no longer turned off when I was fed. It had to be a blessing from Her.

When I woke up I would smell a strawberry scented perfume. I had never smelled something so alluring, so intoxicating. It had to be Her smell. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to nuzzle against her neck and inhale the smell. I wanted to be close to her.

I’m coming to find you. I know where you are now. I’m going to save you.

She would sing to me on occasion. When I felt tired something I could hear her singing a wordless song. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. I began to dream again as I fell asleep to the song. Of wonderful fields. Of the intoxicating smell of strawberries. Of Her.

But I could never see her face.

My faith never wavered. She had to be close. Obviously She talked to me less in the beginning because She was so far away. Now that She was close She was able to talk to me more. Comfort me. Sing to me. I didn’t know why She was wasting her time on someone like me, but I was desperate to meet her.

But then the air turned off for the first time in a while. Since She gave me Her blessing. I began to weep. Not for my own life, but for the fact I might never get to meet Her.

You’re strong. I believe in you.

Her voice tickled my ears. I would be strong. For Her. I had no choice but to exist in the airless prison, but I steeled my conviction. I would not die, because she believed in me. Even when my vision became blurry I never lost my conviction.

Then I felt some of the pressure release on the prison. I tried to move and found the odd cocoon I was in was no longer being bound to whatever I was laying on. I tried to thrash about, to get someone’s attention, but a gentle hand pushed me back down.

I felt something on the outside of the cocoon shift and I heard a sound other than Her voice for the first time in a very long time. It was the sound of a zipper.

The cocoon that surrounded me was peeled away and a blinding light scorched my eyes, followed quickly by air entering the cocoon. I took a greedy gulp of air as I held my eyes shut against the light. It had to be Her. Like a goddess She was too bright to look at directly. I felt my heart drop, I would never get to see Her.

I felt a hand stroke my cheek. The first human contact I had received since I woke up here. “Please look at me.”

Tears formed, it was Her. She did her best to pry her eyes open and look at Her through the tubes that were still in my face.

I lacked the words to describe Her in a way that she truly deserved. The light behind her created a radiant aura, positioned perfectly to show off her divinity. She had gorgeous blond hair that put any other person who ever lived to shame. Her eyes were the color of a bright ocean, a place I had always loved. A place I could always see if I was allowed to look at Her. Her smile left me star struck, I’d never see something this beautiful again.

She didn’t say anything else as She began helping me out of my cocoon. She gently removed the nose tubes, gently stroking my hair as I flinched at the feeling. She removed my catheter and gave me a hug when I cried out at the feeling.

“You did such a good job.” The words put the words of the greatest poets to shame. Nothing anyone else had ever written or sang could match the beauty She wasted on me.

She helped me remove my arms and legs from the sleeves they were trapped in. In Her infinite kindness She helped me stretch out my limbs. I tried to thank her, but my voice was still wrecked from all the screaming I had done. I broke down sobbing. She was wasting this kindness on me and I couldn’t even thank her properly.

“Shh… it’s alright.” She embraced me and my tears instantly dried up. “My little butterfly had a tough time in that cocoon. But you got through it for me. You did so well. I’ve saved you.”

I couldn’t help myself. While she embraced me I took a deep breath in through my nose. It was just as I had fantasized. She smelled like strawberries.

She reached down and picked up a backpack and placed it on the table next to me. The first thing she did was take out a bottle of golden liquid. “Drink.”

So I did without question. It had the consistency of the goop, but it was delicious. Even better than what I had been tasting in the tubes. She gave me some water to wash it down with.

It was the next thing she pulled out that puzzled me. A collar. It seemed to be made of some kind of metal and oddly thick. She held it to my neck and I did nothing to stop her as she closed it. I ran my fingers over it quizzically. I couldn’t find a seam. I looked at her confused.

“You did so well to make it through all this. I’ve saved you. You are mine now.” She cupped my face and ran her thumb over my cheek again. I leaned into it and closed my eyes. I felt safe.

I kept them closed until I heard a click. I looked down and saw that She had attached a leash to it. “It’s time to go home.”

She tried to help me to my feet, but it had been a long time since I had to stand. But I didn’t need to stand. I knelt onto the ground and showed Her I could crawl. She smiled at me. “You’re such a good girl, my little butterfly.”

She started to walk out of the room and I did my best to follow her. My heart felt light. She had kept her promise. She had saved me. I crawled after her as fast as I could. We walked down a hall that was lined with rooms that had metal doors. Just like the one we had left.

She led me out of a door and to a waiting car. Once we were inside I held onto Her arm for dear life. I was afraid She might vanish. She had saved me from that room. From whoever captured me. Whoever was torturing me. She spoke to me like magic to let me know She was there.

She had kept Her promise. She had freed me.

I was going to be happy spending the rest of my life showing Her my thanks.

For my savior.

For this goddess.

[ubemango]

farmer!taehyung 2: first time (m)

again, pretty self explanatory. Happy birthday 🥺💖

The stars align differently out here—they’re bluer and brighter and look like they’re an arms-reach away. Taehyung’s mother believes in some elusive cosmic divinity he’ll never understand. Says he was born by the stars, for the stars. And he believes it’s all bogus folklore she learned because she never went to school, but this was before he met you.

“She was born not by the stars, but by the moon,” his mother recounted to him once out on the scorching strawberry fields. “Same year as you, you know that. But when you came out you were kicking and screaming. She was silent. Like a forest with no cicadas.”

“I still don’t get what you mean by all that moon and stars stuff,” he contended.

“She’s your soulmate,” she said easily. Taehyung stepped on a fallen strawberry and felt it squish under his boot. “Right from birth. It’s up there, in the sky. Somewhere. Hurry up, boy! My back is aching.”

Almost two decades later and he still doesn’t know what she means. But he thanks whatever was up in the sky the night you were born because it so kindly led you to him, and right now he’s got you in a position he’d never in his life imagine you being in. 

It’s late enough for the kids to start heading inside for baths. Taehyung’s mom made an evening trip with his siblings down to his grandparents’ house near the lake, and that meant he’d have the house to himself for a bit. A window of time he just had to take advantage of, and the light of the sun setting right atop your sweaty chest twists a painful feeling in his groin. He won’t make a noise if it means he gets to hear you better; panting and squeaking a stream of noises he swears makes him harder than he is. And he’s pretty fucking hard.

“I—came,” you say, shifting your knees to pull your tight cunt off Taehyung, and he almost squeezes your hips downward because no, no he’s not ready for you to come off him yet. Not because he hasn’t come but because the heat of your walls was so dangerously potent. Something he could get lost in forever. 

Taehyung flips you over, indulges in the cute little yelp you let out. “Let me go down on you again.”

“Oh. You don’t—ha—!”

You smell good. Taste even better. Sweet skin, slick oozing out from your orgasm just now. Heady the way pussy should taste. Taehyung slurps and slides his tongue up hard, feels you heavy on his mouth because you push against him when you writhe like that. He won’t take you to another high but he’ll enjoy the journey just the same. 

“Tae—please. It’s too much, hurts—!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t want to be. And you shake your head like you don’t want him to be either. “I’m—I’m really hard.”

“I can see that,” you tease. Taehyung pinches your thigh in retaliation. You laugh. He’s warm with your happiness. “Lay back again, I’ll suck you off.”

He groans at your suggestion. Feeling all kinds of woozy even though he isn’t the one so fucked out, but he thinks he might as well be. You’re too pretty for him sometimes. “That’s… okay?”

“I want it.”

So does he. He thinks he’d die if he denied you now, looking all kinds of ravishing in his small bed, all the while offering to put his dick to good use in your mouth. A visual he’ll store in that nasty part of his head for later use. 

Taehyung’s more than eager when he plants himself back on the sheets. You crawl over him with a kiss to his chest, his stomach. The next thing he feels is your tongue on his cock, and he bucks up too fast for your comfort. “Fuck. Shit, I’m sorry,” he says when you gag around him, and he can’t hide the shiver down his spine at the sound. “Okay?”

“Mhm,” you warble around his girth. He shivers some more. Closes his eyes to appreciate your tongue differently, because watching you is gonna make him come too quick. He feels it slow. 

Then you hum when you slot your mouth a little deeper, and he loses it. “G-God—fuck—I’mcloseI’mclose—“

You don’t falter. He can’t decide if he hates it or not, thoughts too fuzzy in the heat. The spot just under the head of his dick doesn’t go unnoticed by your slippery tongue. A sensitive area even he’s scared to indulge in but he knows you know it’ll get him there because he’s heaving. 

“Gonna—yeah I’m cumming—“

Taehyung settles into it with his eyes rolled back. Lets the intensity run its course through his body, ruts up into the sensation. He wants to slide his fingers through your hair but they stay clenched next to his thighs, rumpling the sheets. You’re bobbing up on his dick just fine without him imposing anyway. 

“Fuck,” he sighs when you come up for your breath. Your chin’s stained with his cum. A swallow he wishes he’d seen, and you smile like you enjoyed it. 

The swell of gratitude sits behind his teeth. You kiss it away, settling easy on his lap again. His arms are loose around your waist. “You—huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “You, uh. Kinda taste like peaches.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Had some before I came over.”

Taehyung really likes the way it tastes on you. “I really… really liked that.”

“Me too,” you snicker into his neck. “I feel good when I’m with you.”

He squeezes you tight. Makes a silent note to go with his mom the next time she visits the shrine. He’ll say it there: he’s in love, and the stars are watching. And that’s not bogus at all.

[1-800-nymph]

Offerings & Devotions | Persephone 🌺🦇

Offerings | 🌰

Any kind of flowers/plants

Pomegranates or related items/foods

Bones, bones, bones! (Note: remember to honor the animal that once carried them)

Tarot cards/decks you associate with her

Nuts & seeds! I love giving her hazelnuts, walnuts, almonds, and pumpkin seeds. (Note: do not eat food you offer to her!)

It can be as simple as offering Persephone small fruits like plums, peaches, guayabas, cherries, strawberries, and quenepas.

Anything to do with grains! Bread, pasta, oatmeal, breakfast cereals, tortillas, and grits.

Anything mint related like food, a mint plant, or perfume or gum!

Jewelry! I plan on offering her a tiara/crown

Honey in general is a popular offering for her (any deity tbh)

Lemon-y foods

Poetry/Hymns

Candles that smell of flowers or fruits

Herbs, dried flowers/plants, fruit seeds/pits

Crystals that makes you think of her! Angel aura quartz, rose quartz, agate, & opalite screams her name to me!

Drink wise (pour the drink down the sink/outside once you’ve offered), honey & milk, coffee, hot chocolate, water.

Bat, ram, and deer related items/imagery

Devotions | 🍄

Raise some plants! Take care of plants! Sing to plants! Give all your love to plants!!!! Name them too. (‘: (grow some mint maybe!)

Sing her songs that you associate with her! Or hum the songs! I usually hum “Charon’s Crossing” by Beats Antique because it reminds me of her and I love the idea of Persephone and Kharon being buds.

Muse about your past lives with her (if you believe in the concept)! She is the goddess of reincarnation, so no doubt she’s seen you as many different humans/creatures and loves you all the same.

Celebrate Ostara and Imbolc wth her!

Also honor Persephone during Samhain as she returns to the underworld and Haides.

Walk barefoot in forests/fields (be careful tho of glass and stuff)

Contact some Nymphs and begin working with them since Persephone surrounded herself with them a lot! A UPG of mines is that Persephone is the matron of the elven & fae folk as well hehe

Preform bath rituals in her name. Add some flower petals for a nice touch and as an offering to her!

Ask if she wants to cast a spell with you! You both can work together to cast the spell and hang out. Don’t forget to thank her!

Visit a graveyard and clean up, maybe offer the dead some food like nuts, small cakes, fruits, etc. place out some coins too!

Contact her through bone divination! Or take some flowers and do the “they love me/they loves me not” form of divination with a yes/no question.

Read some poetry about her! There’s so many poetries written about her omehaidkeks so read them aloud to her. Also make one for her!

Make a playlist for her!

Set up a bird feeder outside during spring and summer!

Even simply studying her myths and who she is as a goddess is an act of devotion. So don’t overthink it! Do what feels right in regards of devotional acts towards her!

How to get closer | 🌱

Meditate upon her; channel your godphone and let her voice, touch, and thoughts embrace you. Listen to her & talk to her.

celebrate her associated sabbats with her in her honor. Pamper her and spoil her with lovely offerings (it doesn’t have to be expensive offerings! Give what you can, she will be happy no matter what it may be 🥰)

A lot of people who worship chthonic deities such as Persephone, practice spirit work as well. You don’t have to do this, but I see it as a form of becoming closer with her and understanding her more. I personally have not done this yet and probably won’t for awhile, but I think it would benefit the relationship.

If you are romantic with her (even if you aren’t romantic with her, these are very nice gestures), write love letters, bake her sweet treats with the intent of love and forming a stronger bond, leave a space open for her before you go to bed in case she would like to sleep beside you, ask her to accompany you every other day, muse about her.

Open yourself up to her. Show her your joy, sorrow, frustration, anger, etc. don’t hide them and do not be afraid to ask her for help. Tell her about your good or bad days, vent to her, ask for advice, show her every aspect of who you are. You do not have to be happy and serious all the time with her or any deity you devote to, darling.

[perogipoj]

all this before coffee

Dedicated to my black sheep family, who will always be golden.

 Barbed wire, blank walls and an empty sky. Cocoa Beach.  Brevard County, FL. Jail.  Also known as SHARPS.  Tammy walked into the classroom with an air of bravado coupled with the eyes of a child. I never met a teacher before she said shyly, glancing at her handcuffs on the uncomfortable chair.  Even … I hesitated, even in school, I asked gently. I adjusted my own hips to adjust for the cold hard beneath me.  I mean, a teacher for real.  Her eyes looked down, and I implored with my eyes this time to the corrections officer to remove the handcuffs.  Her shoulder length hair was marred by black roots and mustard colored ends.  There were scars on her arm from cutting.  Her teeth were perfect when she decided to smile. Opening the GRE materials, I joked that I am useless at math but fairly good at grammar.  Tammy looked beautiful.

 Some of us take many things too far.  That has seemed to be my pattern.  Even healthy habits turned into obsessions.  Jogging turned into running which became marathons and a cruel treatment of my body.  Some can run into their seventies without injury as some people live to a hundred while smoking and drinking whiskey to the end.  Mindful eating became anorexia and bulimia.  Going organic made me broke with the kombucha and hemp that flowed through my veins.  Being tidy led me to compulsive house cleaning, often with bleach scouring my hands and my eyes colored in pink tears.  Personal grooming turned to hours and dollars of hair coloring, clothes I could not afford, Botox, and breast augmentation. Wanting affirmation led to dangerous and toxic sexual situations.  

 Jaylen, I was warned, was “special.”  I would normally groan inward, used to so many parents highlighting their children as such, usually to explain poor grades.   The volunteer walked all twelve years of Jaylen, his mannerisms large and chaotic, into the room in which all toys and colors were removed.  I hate reading, he said, standing with his arms crossed in front of him like a knight.  Why? It’s stupid.  Can you read, I asked, opening the second-grade reader I was given. I don’t need to read, I can dance.

 I met The Peruvian on a last minute, pathetic online date.  I was at a job expo to acquire my first teaching job after finishing my master’s degree at a world-famous university.  I almost flunked out.  I could not focus.  I cried over social histories in German, a language I lacked grammatical skill in, dreading the meetings with just my professor and another grad student. Black tea, discussions of Marx I got lost in, his approval nodding at the stout Russian girl I already had difficulty understanding in English, never mind in German.  In college, I was stellar.  On time to each class, writing papers late into the night with a gusto of my fingers and a smile on my face.  The world looked bright. On a sweltering day with an incompressible and unimportant commencement speaker, we burnt in the sun and passed around a flask of vodka under our graduation gowns.  Life is beginning.  I held the parchment color graduation schedule. My name had a star next to it.

 I saw that Tammy was no longer shackled when she entered the gray room.  Since the week I met with her, she had elevated herself to the trusted inmates who could clean, deliver meals, and hand out the dog-eared pages of books on a squeaky cart.  So, you scored extremely high on many levels, Tammy.  Let’s take a look at the reading comprehension packet I assigned on The Scarlet Letter.  She smiled more brightly.  I pressed her for intrigue. Ma’am, she said glowing, my commissary is so lit now I don’t have to eat the garbage they give us.  They try to pass off expired food when I deliver it.  I wanted to call them out on those pistachios.  I don’t have time to answer these packets you give me. But I read the book.  What did you read, according to you?  We clasped hands.  Of course, the minster got off and Hester had to wear the giant A over her pilgrim costume.  I dipped my head. Of course.  She could read Hawthorne.  

 I will be the gladdest thing

           Under the sun!

I will touch a hundred flowers

           And not pick one.

 I will look at cliffs and clouds

           With quiet eyes,

Watch the wind bow down the grass,

           And the grass rise.

 And when the lights begin to show

           Up from the town,

I will mark which much be mine,

           And then start down.

-          Edna St. Vincent Millay  

 Jaylen came running into the room from the play center and basketball court which I assumed was a courtesy to me.  He needed to get the wiggles out.

 Nassau Point in the summer at Aunt Tillie’s, driving the Long Island Expressway until it ended to countless grey and white mottled roads.  Passing vineyards that used to be potato fields, cramming my mouth with the last bit of contraband Doritos which were called a Special Treat to nullify us on the vast expanse from New Jersey to the tiny white house.  Decorated in “Early American” with a front glass porch smelling oddly pleasant of moth balls and sunlight.  The huge lawn rolling into the bay with a dock that appeared and disappeared with the tide.  Kids took showers in the dank basement, carved out of a space teeming of a hoarder. A crusted bottle of prell shampoo and a withered sliver of ivory soap.  I met Man-Boy With Very Hairy Legs for the first and last time.  Stroking my legs up and down, he asked if I had a boyfriend.  I was ten, and smug that I could run through poison ivy and never get a rash.  Do you want to fool around, like do stuff?  He whispered into my ear everything I did not know yet.  That’s what married people do!  With his laughter, I leapt my long legs and ran, up the hill, to the driveway where my father was shucking corn.  I got away. This time.

 I was so excited to see Tammy.  But she was not in attendance.  I left the CO the beat-up copy of Antigone for her. I never saw Tammy again.  “All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when his course is wrong and repairs the evil.  The only evil is pride.” This quote was for my betterment, not for Tammy’s.

 A time of reckoning, and a time of complete growth.  A time of a schedule not placed by us.  A journey into us through the connection of others, who became best friends.  Vitamin fusions, lining up for medication in ribbed short paper cups, and Group.  Totally released from responsibility, my linens and clothes were washed, returned the same afternoon in compact squares surrounded by plastic wrap.  Jokes of communal constipation. So, this is my brain mapped.  Here is what displays depression, here anxiety, this is insomnia, that part shows a lack of memory and concentration.  What is that big blue of the Pacific Ocean?  She looked at me, clicked her keyboard.  PTSD.  

 I want to draw a Parrot! P-A-R-R-O-T and speak like one! Wordless, I handed him the blue and black expo markers for the old white board.  With precision, he drew the bird.  I need more colors, he explained in one breath can I talk like a parrot.  I smiled at him at led him to his desk. Let’s try to pay attention today, and I will get you more colors and you can show me how a parrot talks. I began my lesson, and his eyes drifted into imagination.  I needed to get him more colors.  

 I told The Peruvian I was pregnant.  Now I can never afford to divorce you he muttered, enraged.  Married two months earlier, I realized our honeymoon baby was not welcome.   The protesters were angry, and I felt sick. Him on his laptop, me crying to a social worker.  Do not sedate me, I plead, I need to feel this sin.  Sliding my shoes off in the car, my trunk grinding with mountain rolls of cramps and uncontrollable sobbing coming from a divine place, I declined lunch in West Palm.  I never want to do anything fun.  Changing my pad alone in a car beneath the ceiling of the parking garage in City Place, I then tilted my head and fell asleep again.  My birthday came and went.  You didn’t remember my birthday.  With that evil glint in his eyes, he turned his head and told me that was because he did not love me.

 I purchased a ream of paper and a new box of 42 colors Crayola, legit, sharpener in the box, for Jaylen.  He immediately sat down and drew and drew.  Can we put some words to these if we use the colors you want?  He looked up at me shyly and wrote down five words from the fifth-grade reader.  How did you know that?  Easy, my Grammy teaches me.

 I did not smoke to fit in. I smoked because it felt good out in the parking lot, vying for shade, with the Tech supplying communal cigarettes and a light.  The wave went through me and my lips burned with the dirt and smoky taste.  You look like Strawberry Shortcake trying to smoke a cigarette!  My mother was a sophisticated Virginia Slims smoker, sitting on the brick steps in her tennis skirt, so beautiful, watching my brother play in the backyard waiting for my father to return from work.  I sat next to her in awe, breathing in the sprinkler water and counting its pattern, hum hum-hum-hum, hum hum-hum-hum.  

 I took a cigarette break on my Uber ride home.  I knew I would not smoke much when I got home.   However, I did not consume much except cigarettes and black coffee.  I felt Parisian.  The house got messy, and my thighs grew softer. Investing only in ponds cold cream and drugstore mascara, I laughed deeper and threw myself into work more than ever, with determined concentration, forgetting my posture, hunched over in zeal working sixty hours a week.   Anxiety attacks did not make my head and hands shake while driving. I binged watched Law and Order.  Being unhealthy never felt so healthy.  

 I called the jail to let them know I am available for other inmates if they needed me.  I went the next day to help a young man learn English as a second language. All went well until he stood up screaming asking for a guard then switching to Spanish.  

 Here is your key, you can find your mailbox in the teacher lounge.  Here is the form to join the union, Mr. Pescatelli will most certainly find you about that.  Do you know what a block schedule is?  In the morning you will be teaching Advanced Placement European History to our magnet students.  After lunch, you have sophomore World History in the fourth wing. The afternoon will have different challenges.  If you ever need assistance, security is just down the hall.  Welcome to Ft. Lauderdale High School.  Welcome to my first year of teaching.  

 …

 I met the Sophisticated Scandinavian Man in Boston in the Spring.  A PhD candidate from a social democracy intrigued me.  I was twenty-two and he was twenty-eight.  I felt like a puppy taken in from the cold.  There is a long story for this, maybe later.  The times in which he devoured me, lavished upon me, he loved a short story I wrote, “All this before coffee.”

 Sonya met me in the prison classroom.  In anticipation of a new student, I posted Jaylen’s parrots, travel posters, pictures of presidents listing their failures before they took office.  Hello, she said, reaching her cuffed wrists out to me.  I am Jaylen’s mother.

 All this before coffee.  All this after a DUI.

[lxiewrites]

Capture the Flag

The complete fic of the PJO au from klance au month

also tumblr decided to take out most if not p much all my italics but i’m too lazy to put them allll back in bc I’m an italics ho and there would be a lot

Ao3

Lance scrutinized the stance of the baby warrior in front of him. Circling around the young half-blood he kicked her right foot farther behind her. “You would have a better center of balance if you place your right foot here—you're right-handed right?”

She adjusted her stance and nodded, gripping her sword tighter in her fist, hand shaking a bit with effort. Lance bit down a sympathetic smile. She was a fresh camper; just dropped off by a satyr a few days ago. He could see the embarrassed flush on her cheeks and her eyes darting to the other campers practicing their sword fighting.

“Okay, so loosen your grip a bit. That much tension ends up straining the tendons in your elbow for whatever reason, trust me.” He scooped his sword up from the dusty ground next to her and took his stance. “Okay, let’s start with the basic attack.”

They took a step in sync, swiping their swords down with one hand slicing the air in front of them. Nadia blocked her invisible opponent with her wooden shield while Lance brought his sword up in a block. Together they sliced down once again, the air whooshing at the speed. Stepping back into formation Lance turned to his pupil with a big grin. “Good! With enough practice you’ll be beating flying pigs and hellhounds.”

Nadia offered him a small smile before biting her lip. Dropping her sword, point down, into the dirt she asked, “Could I just… skip capture the flag tonight?”

He wrapped an arm around her slight shoulders. “Sorry, kid, Coran says the best teacher is experience. And our cabin is leading this time. Our own members can’t just sit out!”

“But--!” Nadia objected, gesturing helplessly to Lucas and Katy painting each others nails off to the side of the arena. One or two more of the others dropped off from practicing and went to relax and gossip in the shade, only a few still sparring on the field.

Lance ran a hand through his hair to cup the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at the baffled twelve-year-old. “Okay, so they’re more lovers than fighters. We’re a work in progress; sue me. But I got a feeling about you, Nadia. We’re Aphrodite cabin, we can go to fight just like anyone else, we just look better doing it.” He winked to punctuate his statement but she still looked skeptical. Finally he rolled his eyes, “Fine,I got Hecate cabin, Demeter, Athena, and the Apollo kids. And,” he said, raising his voice to be heard across the entire arena, catching the attention from their other cabin members. “If we win I’ll treat everyone to a spa day with my special face masks.”

When the clang of swords resumed, enough that they echoed around them, he snickered, not noticing the person that crept up behind him.

“So that’s how you get your team motivated. Bribery.”

Startled, Lance yelped as he spun around, shoving Nadia behind him, sword at the ready. His sword clanged against a familiar knife that extended into a sword, the dull side barely grazing his cheek.

Lance smirked, dropping his sword and smoothly ducking under Keith’s, bringing him in very close to the son of Ares. Close enough he could smell cedar and smoke from the offering fire. “You’re just jealous you can’t get your cabin to be a team on anything.”

Raising a brow Keith looked around the arena, probably taking in every flaw, every sloppy stance or messy attack. “At least my cabin can fight.”

Frowning, Lance crossed his arms. He debated firing back, saying that they’re doing their best or even taking a jab at Keith’s cabin. Instead he stepped aside, out of Keith’s space, to introduce his new recruit.

“Keith, meet Nadia of Aphrodite cabin. Nadia, this is Keith, head of Ares cabin.”

Lance watched how Keith’s stance softened, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. Biting down hard on his lips Lance forcibly turned to watch Nadia tentatively shake Keith’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Keith nodded, respectfully and still stupidly soft. “You too, Nadia.”

Clearing his throat Lance jerked his head towards Virgil who was getting disarmed way too many times in a row. “Hey, Nadia, why don’t you go over there and spar with Virg?”

Nadia’s hazel eyes darted from one head counselor to another before scurrying off to the struggling thirteen-year-old.

Watching her go, pointedly not looking at the other counselor Lance asked, “So, have you come here to check out the competition, Kogane?”

“Something like that,” Keith murmured.

Heat flushing through him, Lance bit down on his lip. He willed his cheeks to cool, unprepared for Keith’s answer. They’ve known each other for four years. They went on their first quest together, fought together, bickered, picked strawberries, did all the stupid camp activities dangerous and mundane. They didn’t do this! They didn’t… flirt. They fought, they pushed, they challenged each other. Ever since they went on their last quest to retrieve his mom’s girdle—which was really just a fancy belt that shifted to an accessory that would compliment the wearer’s outfit, kinda lame—Keith’s been… flirty.

And it’s not in Lance’s head! He’s the son of the goddess of love and beauty he knows when someone’s flirting! And furthermore, he knew Keith. He knows when Keith is being flirty, which is so subtle he normally won’t notice but—

He knows. It’s exactly like that time he was flirting with this one guy two years ago when they were going to fix whatever was happening with Iris. Gods he was so annoying, always ”mission first, Lance” and the first guy to show interest in him and he’s all ”Oh, I like your weapon” “that’s a cool knife”.

And recently he’s been looking for him for help with strategies against other cabins or partnering up with him. Somehow their stupid fights seem more lingering, softer, the rough edges sanded down to a fine grain like the beaches back home. Where Lance can’t help but stay and run his fingers over it in fascination.

And he has no idea how to handle it.

Face, unfortunately still hot, Lance said, “Well, you better watch your back, Keith. ‘Cuz Ares cabin is going down.”

Keith scoffed, eyes twinkling, “Maybe you should worry less on Ares cabin and more on your own.”

“Oh, my cabin is great. We’re a well-oiled machine. We got everything down to a science.”Lance ignored the fact he could see some of his siblings in the corner of his eye, stopping to look at them. Lucas and Katy whispering to each other and snickering. “We’re gonna whoop your ass, and I’m going to gloat it over you until the end of the summer.”

“Sure, Lance.”

“Hey, once upon a time Aphrodite was worshipped as a war goddess as well as love. Don’t underestimate us. Aphrodite cabin is gonna whoop your ass!” Behind him there was a weak cheer from his siblings and Lance had to restrain a sigh.

“Sounds like a lotta talk.”

Okay, he’s had it up to here with him. “I bet you that we whoop your butt!”

Keith paused, giving Lance enough time to hear what he just came out of his godsdamned mouth and regret. “Okay,” Keith drawled, “it’s a bet.”

“Fine! What’s the bet?”

Keith shrugged, the obnoxious orange T-shirt stretching over his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something later.” Smirking, Keith started towards the exit, calling out, “Good luck with the troops, Lance!”

When he disappeared Lance buried his face in his hands, groaning in them.

From the side he could hear Katy shout, “Does this mean no face masks?”

-

Lance sighed as he adjourned the meeting with the other head counselors. Many were skeptical when he proposed the strategy to them, Pidge kept interjecting with other strategies—those Athena kids are such know-it-alls—but he was insistent.

He knew Keith and he knew how he worked. Impulsive, direct, but crafty and a quick adaptable thinker. He might play at strategy for a while but it won���t last long until he rushes in.

Lance has faith in his team. They might be outnumbered and facing against the kids of the god of war but they got this! They totally got this! Keith might have the numbers and strength but Lance and his ragtag group got the razzle-dazzle!

He made his way to the mess hall to devote some more garlic knots to his mom for some divine luck in capture the flag. He had full faith in his team but some godly help couldn’t hurt.

At the mess hall, he made the rounds from table to table, not staying too long for Coran to start pointedly clearing his throat. Most of the cabins he convinced to be on the side of love were because a) he was just that good or b) either they owed him a favor or he now owes them a favor. The only reason Hephaestus cabin was on Ares’s side was because Keith got to Hunk first damnit. And he saved his life during that fight with a giant pig but whatever.

He cornered his own cabin when Katy just got back from the offering fire. Bracing both hands on the table he looked at each member of his cabin in the eye. “You all know your roles?”

There seemed to be a simultaneous eye-roll across the table. Sophie waved her freshly manicured hand as if she was shooing a bug away. “Yes, yes, we all know what to do. Honestly, Lance, you’re way too into this game.”

Lucas snorted into his cup. “Oh, I don’t think it’s the game he’s into,” he said wagging his brows.

Giggles rose up around the table, each of his half-siblings chiming in at what that could possibly be. The only one not sticking their unwanted concealed nose into his love life was Nadia, who was a dear angel child who did not know what anyone was talking about.

Lance, face way too hot, closed his eyes and willed the blush from his face. Snatching a piece of garlic bread from Katy’s plate he chucked it at Lucas and hit him square between the brows. Lance turned to Nadia as Lucas was screeching about the grease and acne.

He looked into her hazel eyes and wiggled his brows, making her giggle. Crouching down he asked, “So, are you ready for capture the flag?”

She bit her lip, frowning so hard creases formed between her brows.  “I don’t think I’ll be good at it.” She turned to look at him, eyes big and pleading, using every bit of what she inherited from their mother. “Do I have to play?”

Lance gave her a sympathetic smile, hand brushing her soft, brown hair from her face and tucking it up into her bun. “Unless you’re injured you gotta play, kid, Coran says.” At her silence he sighed and darted his eyes around, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper he gestured for her to get closer. “Listen, I got a really important job for you during the capture the flag alright?”

At her nod he leaned in to whisper her directions, her shoulders relaxed and she even chuckled. Patting her on the shoulder he stood up. “All you gotta do is stick with Romelle and you should be fine.”

He gave the rest of his giggling siblings a look, using the universal signal for ‘I’m watching you’ by jabbing two fingers at all of them. “Remember. No face masks unless we win.”

After a chorus of boos he left, restraining himself to only stick his tongue out instead of flipping them off because there are children.

“Real mature for a head counselor.”

Lance, for the record, did not squeak. He yelped. A very manly yelp. “Keith! What are you doing here!”

Keith scrunched up his face, nose wrinkling like a little bunny instead of the son of a war god. “It’s…the mess hall?”

Lance felt his face heat, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Spluttering he grabbed Keith by the shoulders, turned him around, and shoved him out of the mess hall.

Now, Keith might be mostly made out of solid muscle but he’s also a seventeen-year-old boy and Lance had witnessed him try to talk to a squirrel because he thought it was a type of dyad. Lance, similarly, has been on nearly every one of Keith’s quests and has just as much muscle. Moving him was not an issue.

The issue was feeling that muscle under his hands. How easily Keith let Lance maneuver him when sometimes he didn’t move his stubborn butt even for Coran. How stupidly adorable his face is, all scrunched up and cute.

It made Lance’s stomach twist and sweat in uncomfortable places and that was the issue.

“Nope! Nope, nuh-uh, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to steal our strategy! Not happening buster.”

Keith’s face slowly shifted from a confused bunny to a smug bastard. He tried to press his mouth in a line but Lance could see his smirk. Whenever Keith tried to not-smile he would get damning dimples on each of his cheeks. And there they were! Damning Lance to Tartarus.

At his glare Keith gave up, lips tilting into a full smirk, one dimple disappearing. “If you’re so worried maybe you should just give up now.”

Lance stabbed a finger in his smug, stupid face. “Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you? Just wait, you’re going to eat those words.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out won’t we?”

Cheeks burning for no good reason Lance opened his mouth to say something… only to find he had no words. Just a burning face and a heart beating way too fast.

Normally, Keith would fight back, say something just as petty and childish as Lance. Now, he fights back in a way that Lance can’t? Instead of pushing back he gives in and flipping sneak attacks him leaving Lance flustered and burning.

Smirking, Keith patted Lance on the chest before brushing past him to the mess hall, leaving Lance gaping at him still trying to find his words.

-

Lance helped slide a chest plate over one of the younger Hecate kid’s heads, securing the straps nice and tight. With that done he tied a blue handkerchief around their arm in a neat knot. The kid beamed up at him before scampering off somewhere. Their smile a shade bloodthirsty but that’s what he wanted to see! Furious little warriors that will kick Keith’s butt!

“Are you sure you don’t want me on the front lines?” A voice wheedled behind him.

Lance tipped his head back and groaned to the gods. “For the last time Romelle, I need you to hang back.” Leaning forward he lowered his voice, “I really need you to watch Nadia.”

Romelle threw up her hands, a whining noise escaping. “You’re putting me on babysitting duty? What if you break a leg? If I’m with you I could swoop in and cast a healing spell! Or, or, boost you with extra speed or strength and save the day! Oh, oh!” Lance took three quick steps back when the daughter of Hecate’s hands flew up in excitement, magic crackling off her fingers. “I’ve been working on some offense spells and this levitation spell. If I get close enough to Keith I could just levitate him and bam!”

Lance silently prayed to the gods to shut the girl up. “Romelle, please just watch Nadia?” Lance widened his eyes and laid it on thick. “You’re the only one that I can trust to protect her.”

Her lip pushed out in a pout, huffing, she crossed her arms and turned away. “Fine. But you are wasting my talents.”

“And I will forever regret it.”

She rolled her eyes, popping out her hip and pinning him with a stare. “I know you’re mocking me but you will regret it. And when you lose against Keith you’ll have no one to blame but yourself and I will laugh.”

Lance huffed and spluttered before settling on a stilted laugh. ”Ha, ahahaha, ha. No. Because I will beat Keith because I know him better than anyone here and therefore know the best way to defeat him!”

“Yeah but doesn’t that mean that he knows how to defeat you?”

“W-well, in theory—“

“Which is why you should put me in front He’ll never see it coming!”

Irritation grated on Lance’s last nerve as she rambled on. He loved Romelle and she was a key player in his plan but by gods she was annoying to deal with sometimes. She was two years younger than him and just as annoying as he was then. To a point she reminded him of himself, except more cringe—but that might just be him.

“—In fact, you should bring me with you to keep you from getting distracted by your crush on Keith—“

“Woah, woah, no, wrong,” Lance interrupted, taking Romelle by the shoulders and physically turning her and walking her forward. “No, nope, there’s no crush and you have your position. Just stay with Nadia and make sure she stays out of trouble.”

“—But!”

Lance pushed her forward towards where Nadia was fumbling with her shoulder straps. “Bye!”

Ignoring her complains he turned on his heel and marched away. Romelle was a sweet kid with ideas too big for her brain, and some of them were completely ridiculous! Him? Letting a crush ruin this? Nah, this has been in the works since Keith first flattened him on his back the first day of training. Sure, the rivalry might have not been at the forefront, especially with the last few quests but it’s still there! And it will continue to be there until Lance beats Keith.

Crush or no crush he will defeat Keith Kogane.

-

Lance waited in the front of his troops, the point in a semi-angular formation. He could barely make out the speck of red in the distance. The enemy’s flag.

He swallowed, feeling stones in his throat, pressing, making it harder to breathe. Sweat beaded up under his armor as he waited for Coran to blow the whistle, making his orange T-shirt cling to his chest under his chest plate.

As he stared at his goal with his friends and allies behind him he could almost feel his heart rate calm. He had a rock solid plan and a secret weapon. He knew Keith inside and out. In fact, Keith was probably snapping at James or Rebecca for poking at his plans.

Today was the day he was finally going to prove, at least to himself, that he could keep up with Keith.

The whistle blew and he could feel his lungs expand with humid air as he and team shouted, charging into the forest.

-

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest as his team broke into groups. Each group disappearing in the foliage and leaving the sword-competent veteran kids in front.

He and the first line of defense battled through the first wave of campers, the red handkerchiefs fluttering like butterfly wings with each disarmed kid.  He let Francesca of Athena’s cabin organize a small troop to tie them up, uncurling a length of rope from her enchanted fanny pack—which, normally, hideous, now, very useful.

Lance scanned the woods around them, so far no one in sight. He could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, the clashing of swords and the dull thuds of weapons against shields. They couldn’t be more than a fourth of a mile away. His nose stung from the scent of smoke, someone—probably a Hephaestus kid—launching Greek fire at someone smoke rising off to the left of him.

“I’m going on ahead. Stand your ground here and wait for the archers to move up.”

Francesca didn’t look up from where she was tying up the other team. “Shall we proceed as normal or send reinforcements to—“ she nodded in the direction of the plume of black smoke.

Lance was already jogging ahead through the trees. “Send three of the archers over and go ahead!” he called over his shoulder.

Further away there was another explosion, more kids shouting in either fear or indignation. It seems like Keith didn’t waste time in bringing out the big guns. The quickest route is a straight line, after all.

He sprinted forward, uncaring to see if his group followed him, he was a man on a mission. Bursting through the trees and into a small clearing—that was smack dab in the middle way of the two flags—he shouted and brought his drawn sword down.

Another sword screeched against his as he stared right into the shocked eyes of Keith Kogane, close enough to see the whites of his eyes and the enlarged pupils surrounded by a galaxy of colors. They narrowed in concentration as he pushed against the sword. Lance smirking as he let him throw him off.

Keith didn’t look particularly surprised, maybe disgruntled at how Lance attacked first but not from his presence. Keith might be direct in his battle tactics but he was never one to search for glory for himself (something Lance learned about him after, oh, the fifth adventure he went on with him). He probably had another group headed for the flag but Lance wasn’t worried. They were fine.

Lance casually swung his sword around, twisting his wrist in what only looked like a complicated maneuver. “Surprised, Mullet? Thought I’d bring the fight to you this time.”

Keith lunged forward and swiped at Lance, making him dance back. Advancing, Keith slashed at Lance; his attacks practiced and smooth. Lance could barely keep up as he deflected each attack, each hit jolting his wrist making it ache.

Just as his back hit a tree he used his sword to guide Keith’s momentum from his swing to the tree trunk, his sword embedded into the bark above Lance’s head.

Keith panted, his chest heaving in his T-shirt, not even wearing any armor—the idiot. Sweat dripped from his temple and his eyes were lit up as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “What fight?”

Lance felt his face screw up and his heart speed up as anger and adrenaline mixed in a dangerous cocktail in his chest. “Oh, screw you.”

And he punched Keith in the stomach.

Keith’s wheezed as his breath left him, hand slacking on the handle of his sword. Lance kicked his chest, pushing him away and losing his grip on the blade. Lance tore the blade from the tree and threw it on the ground in front of him, face hot and chest tight.

“I might not be the greatest half-blood of this generation but I’m just as good a fighter as you,” Lance gritted out, heart drumming against his breastbone.

“What?” Keith wheezed, reaching out to grab his sword, stumbling to a stand.

It took a minute for everything to catch up to him but when it did Lance felt the adrenaline dip down, leaving him shaky but there’s just enough for him to say what’s been bothering him.

“We have been on practically every quest together since we came here when we were twelve. You lead practically every quest, you’re the best fighter, you are… so hard to chase after. I just—“ Lance wanted to look away. He wanted to look away from the realization flickering across Keith’s face. He swallowed hard and kept his head up. “I just want you to take me seriously for once.”

“Lance,” Keith started, eyes scrunching up, nose wrinkling. “What are you talking about? I always take you seriously.”

Lance sighed, shoulders slumping. “Dude—“ He barely heard the whistling of air, his arm moving before he fully registered the action. His sword clanged against a familiar sword, diverting its path from his face.

“Dude! What the fuck?!” he shouted at Keith.

Keith was already on the move, running toward where Lance knocked his sword and scooping it up before running at him.

Lance blocked when Keith slashed down, the contact reverberating down his arm. They pushed against each other, swords sliding, the screech of metal on metal grating Lance’s ears.

“I always take you seriously,” Keith gritted out before dancing back on light feet. “Why do I always choose you to be on the quests with me?”

“I don’t know,” Lance snapped back, out of breath, stepping back in to swipe at Keith’s leg, barely nicking the fabric of his jeans when he dodged. “Because Coran told you to.”

“No you, dumbass.” They circled each other; eyes open for any opening in their defenses. Keith went on the offense, sprinting forward to aim at the vulnerable parts of Lance not covered by his breastplate.

Lance caught Keith’s sword with his own, locking them together and wrenching Keith’s sword out of his hand. Before he could swing his sword around Keith tackled him to the ground. Lance hit the ground hard, sword falling somewhere and the breath knocked out of him, making him wheeze.

Keith sitting on his stomach didn’t help him with the breathing situation. A hand was wrapped around his wrist and another on his shoulder, pinning him down. Lance gasped for breath, neck straining as Keith was haloed above him like some sort of godsdamned angel.

“I choose you,” he panted, “because you always have my back. I trust you.”

Keith’s expression was fierce. Brows furrowed and lips pressed in a firm line, ready to attack if Lance dared to disagree with him. His eyes were flitting over his face, searching, open.

The trick with Keith is that his scowly face and general grumpy body language only made him look like a closed book locked in a box in an underground safe. His eyes were what gives him away every time, which is why he never wins the poker nights with any of the Hermes kids. That and he sucked at lying.

Lance huffed out a laugh, head falling back to the ground with a soft thunk. He convinced himself for years that when he and Keith were equal then he’d be good enough. He spent so much time trying to convince himself and others that he was just as good as Keith when, apparently, Keith always thought he was.

Gods, he just… really liked him.

“Why are you laughing?” Keith demanded, “I’m being serious here.”

Lance quieted until he had a big, goofy grin stretched across his cheeks. Keith was still glaring at him from where he was sitting on his stomach. “I know you are.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Gods, I’m so stupid.”

Keith’s mouth twisted like he ate a lemon. He eased the pressure on Lance’s wrist and shoulder, settling back onto the bone of his pelvis. “What was this about, Lance?”

“How about I tell you after I beat you?” Lance taunted, smirking up at him.

“I’m on top of you. I think that ship s—gah!”

Lance braced his feet against the ground, thrusting his pelvis up and jostling Keith into a tabletop position above him, his right arm still trapped but Keith’s left hand slipped to press into the dirt by Lance’s head. He used the opportunity to use his left arm to hug the one trapping his wrist at the elbow. Planting his left foot on the other side of the leg Keith has pressed against his side he pushed, toppling Keith over and landing between his thighs.

Keith was disoriented enough to allow Lance to swipe his sword from where it fell, hovering the blade above Keith’s throat.

Lance leaned over the demigod under him, his hair just long enough to fall forward and tickle his ears. He braced his hand against Keith’s shoulder, keeping him pinned just in case. His sword was close enough that with one sudden move Keith would need a medic and a ton of ambrosia.

Keith’s eyes were wide, darting back and forth between the blade and his eyes. Lance pressed harder on his shoulder. He didn’t want to actually hurt him but he still wasn’t about to lose either.

His cheeks were pink and he licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak when the woods erupted in cheers around them.

Lance straightened, head twisting around to see if he could see whose team was cheering. “Wait, who won?”

He stood up and wandered to the edge of the clearing. Where was his team? Godsdamn someone just tell him who won!

Behind him, Keith stood up, face hidden by his bangs as he dusted himself off. Combing his fingers through his hair Keith walked over. “Can you see the banner from here?”

Lance sighed and shook his head. The trees had too much cover and they were in a little dip between the two flags. Wherever he looked it was just more and more trees.

The cheering got louder, the trees shaking with celebration. From the direction of Keith’s base, a small crowd of screaming kids from the Ares and Hephaestus cabin surged through the foliage. Seeing Keith they cheered even louder, nearly popping Lance’s eardrums.

Crowding around them they grabbed onto Keith and hoisted him in the air, chanting.

Behind him, he felt a couple of hands on his shoulders. Lucas’s mouth was twisted in a rueful smile, squeezing his shoulder. Katy next to him, arms crossed and hair a mess of twigs and mud.

It took a hot second for everything to process. The exuberant cheers from the other team and how his own was tolerating it.

“We lost?” Katy sighed, chest moving with how deep it was, and nodded. She dug into her hair and flicked out a berry. Disbelief filled his entire being; he could feel his eyebrows crawl to the top of his forehead. “How?” He gestured to Keith who was finally being put down from his grinning team. “I had everything planned. I know him so well I might as well had his plans!”

“Lance,” Keith called, lips quirking at the side, head tilted slightly and eyes surprisingly soft. “You forget. I know you just as well as you know me.”

-

Lance pouted as he turned his marshmallow. The bonfire in front of him an excited red, so bright it could probably be seen from space. That color definitely came from the Ares kids, they were celebrating enough for the whole camp.

He wasn’t upset per se but he wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. He wasn’t bright red happy. Maybe a muted orange or a consolatory yellow—godsdamnit! He was so sure they would win!

He couldn’t help the pout on his lips as he let the marshmallow fall off to sizzle in the fire with a wet plop. Poking around the fire, letting the tip of his stick catch fire and watching it burn, he didn’t notice the presence that literally popped in next to him.

He jerked as Romelle and Nadia materialized into existence next to him. ”Holy Hera, don’t do that!” Romelle pouted at him, crossing her arms as she flickered in and out of existence like static. An ace bandage was slapped on her forehead and a Hello Kitty Band-Aid was barely hanging on to her chin.

Nadia settled in next to him, slowly becoming solid as Romelle’s magic wore off. He handed her a fresh marshmallow.

Romelle stomped closer, still not saying anything but clearly saying something. He eyed her warily as she glared at him, the flickering slowing down until she was fully solid. He bit the bullet.

“You couldn’t have done that during capture the flag?” he snipped at her.

Her hand shot out before he even registered her moving, smacking him on the head. “You couldn’t have told me I was a part of your little scheme?!”

“That’s because you can’t keep a secret for sh—“ Lance cut himself off and placed his hands on either side of Nadia’s head, ignoring her insulted look. “Shit,” he mouthed over her head.

Nadia smacked his hands off her head exclaiming that she knew what swear words were. She reached around him and snagged another marshmallow or three. Her voice was a little muffled as she tried to speak with her cheeks full like a little chipmunk. “When we were separated we were hit by green balls of fire. Romelle saved me but she was knocked out.”

Romelle gingerly touched her bandage, a dejected smile touching her lips. At his look she waved off his concern before squinting her eyes at him in a playful glare. “Next time, McClain, let me in on the plan instead of having your sister tell me when we’re under attack by Greek fire.”

Lance winced. “Sorry about that, won’t do it again.” He looked between Romelle and Nadia. “Other than that you two were okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Romelle exclaimed, waving her arm in a grand gesture as if to brush off his concern but only making it look like she was swatting at a mosquito. “When we were under attack I went bwoosh and Nadia was like aahhh, but in a good way. She even got a hit in before we were captured!”

“Yeah?” Lance looked over to where Nadia was blushing. “So you had a good first capture the flag?”

She looked over at him, dark cheeks still flushed with color from Romelle’s praise. “Green balls of fire,” she deadpanned.

Lance sighed, resigned and not willing to push it. She isn’t the first Aphrodite kid to be more of a lover than a fighter. And if she didn’t like it there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“…But it was fun.”

Lance felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead, a grin spreading over his face. “Really?”

With a tiny smile, Nadia nodded.

“I’m glad, Chiquita,” Lance said reaching over to ruffle her hair.

“We can totally pair up in the future,” Romelle added giving Nadia a side hug. “Now that we got a good strategy!”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Romelle, Keith already knows what I was planning. That was how he knocked you out.”

With a heavy sigh, Romelle crossed her arms and popped out a hip. “Ugh, that guy. He knows you too well.”

“Five years will do that.”

They all jerked to the new voice, Nadia releasing a little “eep” of surprise.

Keith settled in next to him on the log bench, legs stretched out in front of him with his hands tucked into a red zip-up over his orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. The fire reflecting in his eyes in reds and pinks, turning his normally blue eyes purple, as he soaked up its warmth. He had the barest touch of a smirk on his face. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that to surprise me.”

A few years back Lance would immediately think that Keith was mocking him. Rubbing the fact that he lost in his face and he would never be better than him. And, to be honest, a little voice still nags at him about it. At certain times like after losing a match or Keith being chosen for a quest. Telling him that he would never be able to be good enough, to catch up, be his equal.

But that voice has quieted. Because he knows Keith better and he knows himself better. He’s not a scared eleven-year-old running away from monsters that chased him out of his bed.

That doesn’t mean he’ll take his smack talk lying down.

“Hmm, mmhm, says the guy who I defeated today. Remember that? You know, when you were pinned down with your own sword to your throat? Hmmm?” Lance goaded, leaning ever so closer, smug smile on his face.

Red spread across Keith’s face, all the way to his ears and down his neck. “You just caught me off guard!” he shot back.

“Uh huh,” Lance was close enough to see the faint flecks of purple in Keith’s eyes. Could see how soft and smooth his skin was. A dumb, impulsive voice telling him to cup his cheek and run his thumb across it to see just how soft his skin was. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Keith scowled, lips pursing into a pout. “Whatever.” He pulled back, just an inch, and looked away, the color rising in his cheeks. “I wanted to talk to you. In—“ his eyes looked away, glancing over all the eyes on them, “private.”

Lance’s heart drummed against his breastbone. An unsteady beat that threw him off balance, unable to get back on his feet. They were too close. His heart was too fast. He had too many feelings. There were too many—

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” A group of, unfortunately, familiar sounding voices chanted.

—people.

Lance grimaced and buried his face to hide from the world. Could a magical earthquake open up underneath him and swallow him up, please? Like right now? Where are the gods when you need them?!

Godsdamnit, he was reconsidering on the no-facemasks but not anymore those ungrateful demigods. His siblings are the worst.

Lance stood up, cheeks hot, embarrassment making his chest tight. “Come on, Keith.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans and stalked off towards the lake, ignoring the suggestive catcalls as they left.

It wasn’t a full moon but there was enough light that he could make his way down to the dock easily. The lights from the cabins fading away as the half-moon guided him to where he could think without eyes on him.

“You wanted to talk, yeah?” Lance finally asked, knowing the answer. He slowed to a stop as they approached the lake. “I’m sorry if they embarrassed you.” In his peripheral Keith shrugged.

“I don’t care what they say.”

Lance nodded, watching how the moon’s reflection wavered in the water. The silence that fell over them wasn’t uncomfortable. Just…heavy. Heavy with a lot of things left unsaid. And things that should be. He sat down on the dock, legs dangling over the edge. Keith sat down next to him.

“Are you,” Keith started in this halting, careful way of his whenever he’s dealing with Lance’s emotions. Like every word to be weighed and judged before being deemed adequate. “Okay?”

Lance sighed, trying to get some of the poison out, his chest feeling a little bit lighter for it. “I’m cool. They’re just… so fucking dumb.”

Keith snorted. “They can’t be worse than my cabin. There’s a mutiny every single day. At least your cabin respects you and listens to you.��

“Oh, oh, oh, Keith, my man, my dude, you don’t know the psychological horrors my siblings would put you through.”

Keith side-eyed him, a smirk play on his lips. “Yeah… but you seem to handle it pretty well.”

Lance… couldn’t argue with that. He tipped his head back and groaned to the stars and the moon. ”Ugh, why are you so mature and shit?”

The low chuckled sent a shiver down Lance’s spine. He crossed his arms to make it look like it was because of the cold. “I don’t know, patience yields—“

“—focus,” Lance finished. Lance shook his head. “Gods, Shiro, off adventuring and still finding ways to make us mature adults.”

“I wouldn’t say that college in New Rome is an adventure—“

“It so is an adventure!” Lance leaned forward, eyes just as big as his smile as he tried to inject some of his enthusiasm into Keith’s grumpy butt. “It’s college. A couple of years ago that wouldn’t have been an option for us. Come on, man, just imagine it, going to classes, sleeping in a dorm, getting a degree. I bet you, you would have the time of your life.”

Keith bit his lip, brow furrowed and too slow in disguising his emotions from Lance of all people. His face smoothed out into bland indifference.

“So, speaking about bets,” Keith prompted, a touch too neutral.

Lance examined Keith’s face. Watched how despite his neutral tone and how indifferent he tried to come across the muscle in his jaw still jumped and the tense muscles around his eyes asked him to leave the subject for another day. He slumped back, shoulders dropping as he whined, “what kind of horribly embarrassing thing do you want me to do? Clean out the Pegasus stalls? Follow you around with a sign that says ‘Keith is the greatest?’”

He heard a snort next to him and he felt a small thrill of victory. A smile peeked through as Keith shook his head, face relaxed once again. He cleared his throat and turned towards Lance, the color high in his cheeks.

“You have to…” Keith trailed off, the muscles in his face twitching with little micro expressions that Lance couldn’t name. “You have to… uh, I want—“ Keith’s lips twisted into a pained grimace.

Lance smirked, “You having some difficulties there, buddy?”

Keith huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his red-stricken face. ”No, I just don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

His shoulders shook from his laughter. That was so on-brand for Keith Lance isn’t even surprised. “That’s the point, man. That’s what a bet is. Making someone do something they don’t want to do.”

“Well, I don’t want to make you do what you don’t want to do.” The spots of color high on Keith’s cheeks seemed to glow brighter as his back straightened, his honor and noble-ness no doubt bolstering him. Like a knight. It would be stupid if it weren’t so attractive.

Lance smothered a smile that was starting to creep up, though Keith could probably hear it in his voice. “How about… you tell me what it is or whatever. And if I’m, like, super against it I’ll tell you no.” He fanned out his hands in a nonchalant gesture. “Sounds fair?”

Keith gnawed on his lip and nodded. His thumb ran over his knuckles as he looked at the water instead of him, clasping his hands together to stop. His lips barely moved, the sound escaping in a breathy mumble as Keith stared daggers into the fire.

“…I’m not gonna lie, I have no idea what you just said.”

Keith groaned and covered his face with his hands, still resolutely not looking at Lance.

Feeling so incredibly amused at this apparent torture Lance bit his lip because laughing at Keith’s pain would be mean. Shuffling closer, he leaned into Keith’s personal space. Close enough that he could see the flush of his skin and the faint, faint, faint freckles he sometimes gets when out in the sun too long between his fingers.

Seeing how close Lance was Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his palm into his eyes. A heatedly whispered, ”fuck,” later and he bites out, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

Skkkkrrt. Wait. Rewind. “What?”

Keith instantly shot up, body turning, tense and jumpy. “Fuck, never mind.”

Before he could get too far Lance had a hand on his shoulder and the other grasping his sleeve. Somehow right next to him before he even realized that he moved.

“Wait. Yes— what— yes,” he stuttered out before his mouth could do any more harm.

He used his grip to gently turn Keith more towards him. He had his arms crossed in front of him, fingers gripping the fabric of the jacket, a scowl he hasn’t seen since their first year in place. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

His heart beat faster than when he faced down that Nemean lion. And somehow this was scarier than almost becoming cat food. Heat flared in his cheeks as he lowered his voice, cautious of the prying ears around the campfire. “I want to.”

Keith’s face softened, the scowl fading into a vulnerable look Lance had only seen a handful of times. He bit his lip and sat back down.

Lance sat next to him, not close enough to touch but enough for him to easily lean over and rest his hand between them. He didn’t want to push what already felt new and fragile. Baby steps. He was 96% sure that Keith would jump out of his skin and fall into the lake if he as much as puts his arm around him.

“Are you sure?” Keith blurted out, forcing Lance to drag his gaze from shark-toothed grins.

It’s almost as if he has Hermes’ flying shoes flying around in his stomach, kicking around and messing up the place. The idea of going out with Keith… that Keith wanting to go out with him… made him far too giddy for his own good.

“Absolutely. I told you I would say no if I didn’t right?” Lance bumped his shoulder against Keith’s. “You’re not calling me a liar are ya?”

Keith scoffed, leaning back on his hands, his fingers overlapping his. His fingers practically burned at the contact. “Never.” Those same fingers shifted and weaved between his, falling together like puzzle pieces. He smirked and looked over at him, hair parting so he could see his eyes. “I know you far too well for that.”

[pynkhues]

mmmm what about....a head canon for Beth/Rio and food?Do they cook together? Is one flat out not allowed in the kitchen when the other is cooking?

Yesssss, I have SO MANY head canon’s about food with these two which is hilarious. 

1. Mostly because I think Beth’s a really good cook! And she genuinely used to love it, was adventurous with it, really believed all the stuff her grandmother used to tell her about cooking being an act of love, and so falling out of love with Dean had this weird side-effect of making her fall out of love with cooking. She still did it, obviously, but she got a little more reliant on Minions mac and cheese (the kids are too young to appreciate good food anyway), and tuna sandwiches and sure, she still makes cakes from scratch, but she used to make sinful chili chocolate cakes or honey-rich beestings or bold, bright funfetti cakes, and now she drags herself out of bed to serve up a vanilla sponge or a heavy chocolate one with a leaky, mousse centre. An sure, they’re still delicious, but Beth is dialing it in.

2. And the thing is, Beth doesn’t know much about Rio, but she knows he likes to eat. They haven’t eaten together all that much, or, well, Beth’s never eaten with him, but she’s watched him pour over menus in diners and cafes at drops, ask waitresses about how things are cooked, the cut of meat, vegetables that are in and out of season, in between lecturing her about rotten eggs and kicking bags of fake cash at her beneath the table. 

3. Still, it’s a surprise when she’s been nervously cooking all of Dean’s favourite things for the third week in a row and walks, exhausted, into the kitchen to find Rio there looking through the glass of the oven door, lips pursed and forehead creased. 

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, and he blinks lazily at her, like she should’ve expected him (which, look, at this point maybe she should have), and he talks like she’d never spoken.

“What’s this?” he asks, pulling the oven door open, and Beth grimaces. 

“It’s a Persian baked chicken and rice, with broccoli and almonds,” she says, and then, repeating herself. “What are you doing here?” 

“Smells good,” he tells her. “Is it ready?” 

She fumbles, flusters. 

“Yes, I mean - - it should be.” 

And that’s all it takes for Rio to don her oven mitts (and isn’t that a sight?), pull the thing out and serve himself a plate. Beth just stares at him, watching him start to stir the vegetables through, and then she blinks, rolls her eyes, breathes out an annoyingly anxious breath, “Wait,” she says, and he looks up at her, eyebrows raised. She sighs. “You serve it with a sauce.” 

She makes it quickly - plain yogurt, mint, garlic, lemon, and Rio watches her from his position leaning back against her kitchen counter. Somewhere in the background, she can hear Dean calling for her, and she’ll get there, she will, she thinks, drizzling the sauce over Rio’s plate. He watches her do it carefully, those dark eyes of his so focused, without saying a word, and then watches her make a plate for Dean. 

“I’ll be back in a sec,” she says, watching Rio take a mouthful. He pauses, looks down at it, and she ducks out of the room. When she gets back to the kitchen, Rio’s gone, his plate and fork washed and stacked on the dishrack, and half the bake and sauce and some of her Tupperware gone. She doesn’t think a lot of it until she gets a text later from an unknown number - a picture of two polished plates (One big, grey, the other smaller, plastic, with trucks decorating the edges) and a message: Good shit, Elizabeth. 

4. And it happens again a few weeks later, at Emma’s birthday party in the park. She’d insisted on a fancy tea party and so Beth had donned a blush-coloured dress with little red flowers, dressing up all four of the kids in their Sunday Bests and made enough cupcakes to feed a small army. Ruby and Annie and the kids had joined them there, sprawling out on picnic blankets and pushing out their pinky fingers as they’d sipped make believe tea and eaten real cupcakes to Emma’s absolute giddiness. 

She sees it in Annie’s face before she sees Rio, and she’s tense by the time she turns around, clocking him maybe ten feet away, a coy grin on his face as he tilts his head back, away from them. Beth scrambles to her feet, trying to smooth out the lines of her sundress as she follows him.

He ends up taking her to a small alcove between the playground and the baseball field, and they talk, only briefly, about a way to get through the counterfeit cash still stacked up in the storage unit a half hour out of town. Then, promptly:

“What’s the occasion?” 

And Beth blinks, surprised. “What?” 

He makes a point of looking her up and down, clocking her dress, her wedged sandals, her bright, gleaming jewellery. 

“Oh,” she gestures back to the group, where she can feel Annie and Ruby’s gazes, fixed at her back. “It’s my daughter’s birthday.” 

“How old?” 

Beth’s forehead furrows. 

“Six,” she says, and Rio nods along, like he knows, which, she reminds herself, he does. 

“Any leftover cake?” 

Beth laughs. 

“Really?” 

Rio just shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and he’s shameless, Beth thinks. But still, she spins on her heel, walks back and grabs him a range of them - the strawberry shortcake ones, the chocolate ones, the elderflower and lemon ones (so what, if that one was a little fancy? She’d felt inspired) and wraps them in a few napkins, ignoring Annie and Ruby’s questioning looks. She walks them back to him, and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest at the way his face breaks into an easy, genuine grin. 

“I’ll see you,” he says, taking the cakes, “Happy birthday to your little miss,” and disappearing back through the park. 

5. “Is there a reason?” she asks him one day, sitting in the bar. He’s just interrogated the poor barman about the specials, and scoffed when the guy had said he wasn’t sure if the shrimp was caught wild or farmed. 

“A reason for what?” Rio says, taking a drink. 

“You and food? Is it a thing? You’re so…into it.” 

“Kind of need it to live,” he replies. “Likin’ food ain’t that weird, darlin’.” 

“Yeah, but there’s liking food, and then there’s-” she gestures vaguely at him “-whatever this is.” 

“You don’t like food?” 

And she stops, opens her mouth to reply, and then promptly closes it.

“I do,” she says slowly, and Rio nods. 

“You’re good at it.” 

She barks on a laugh. 

“At food?” 

He just hums in agreement, rocking back on his stool, and she shakes her head, oddly, suddenly, bashful. 

“Thanks.”

And then he’s talking about the job again, and Beth almost forgets all about it. 

6. Almost, but not really, and maybe that night she goes home and she pulls out her old recipe books, and she makes the kids something rich and something divine, and she watches them glow and laugh and maybe she checks on the backdoor a few more times than she means to, wondering if he’s smelt it, wondering if it’ll call to him, like her grandmother always said it could, when you made it right. 

(Haha, this kind of blew out. I have a million head canons about Rio being a completely terrible cook too and Beth lolling forever when she finds out because he’s such a food snob and also so good at everything else, but I might save that for another post). 

[ourrightside]

5 Beauty Products You Need To Try Based On Your Zodiac Sign Pt. 1

Okay, okay before you click off because you think horoscopes are not real (which they totally are), promise me you’ve never checked the horoscopes page in a magazine or blog out of sheer curiosity. Yeah, I thought so too.  

Personally, I’m kind of what you call a “Horoscope Snob”. I’m not an Astrologer but I do believe in Zodiac Signs. I’m not here to impose my beliefs just check your sign based on your birthday and consider the products I recommend below based on the alignment of the stars!

 If you’re born between March 21- 20 April, you’re an Aries...

(I’m an Aries stellium) If so, you are blessed with energy, optimism and independence. Hands down, Ella Woods (portrayed by Reese Witherspoon) is the queen of all Aries Women. Other Aries women include Sarah Jessica Parker, Maraiah Carey (skinny), and Lady Gaga.

You guys are extremely enterprising and maybe a little vain, but wouldn’t you be too if you got accepted to Harvard Law School? 

These products will keep you energized and reflect your true colors

1. Balls in the Air - Goop

To maintain energy in the long run, subscribe to keep your lively attitude and fitness levels in check! Make sure to use your energy towards things or people who improve your life and bring you joy even if it seems more fascinating to start fights for banter.

2. First Aid Beauty Body Scrub

The most athletic people I know are Aries Women. Their energy is so divine and super fiery. If you don’t exercise regularly I highly encourage you to do so, Aries, because it’s going to keep you from combusting. Instead of starting fights, get that endorphin rush from exercising!

That being said, I highly recommend you keep your skin looking great in between those workout sessions. This product contains 10% AHA which means it’s great for exfoliating and shedding off dead skin.

3. Yves Saint Laurent Water Stain Lip Stain 

The color that symbolises an Aries is red. This newly launched product is easy to use and you can throw it in your purse for a light touch up whenever you want. I think all red undertones suit Aries women, but I recommend mostly the “Vague de Rouge” color 602 - a popping strawberry red one.

4. Hair Oil - Ouai

Aries Women are not afraid to take risks, they are tomboys at heart and don't shy away from doing crazy experiments with their hair. Every Aries woman is different when it comes to this but we can all agree that their hair needs to be tamed by this hair oil! A lot of times you just need to wear your hair untamed and completely wild. 

5. Dr. Barbara Strum: Anti-aging Primer 

Your impulsive nature is charming - but it may be what's destroying you. To keep yourself from running thin, use this product as a part of both your skin care and makeup routine. Doubling up as a primer and day cream, investing in this will not only keep your skin looking as young as your spirit but also gets rid of any uneven texture or dullness!

 If you’re born between 21 April - 21 May, you’re a Taurus…

(My Moon Sign and Midheaven) You guys are your own best friends, like seriously, I get you. You’re ambitious, stubborn and you take your pleasure seriously. You’re a boujee bitch, treating yourself is a lifestyle, not a hobby. But you deserve it, you work hard and play hard. Ruled by Venus, you tend to be either attractive or extremely charming, Taurus women also include Gigi Hadid, Megan Fox and Audrey Hepburn. 

1. Gimme Brow Kit 

If Taurus women have one thing in common, and we all know what it is - eyebrows. Brows are so important to them, I mean they either make you or break you right Taurus? I recommend any Benefit Cosmetic Brow product when it comes to this field. These women knew about this secret before “ fleek” was even a thing - and their secret is finally out! 

2. Dior Backstage Glow Face Palette 

I’ve personally purchased this twice. I feel like every Taurus woman would love this product! Dior is such a signature brand that hits every Taurus’ sweet spot when it comes through with their products. The bronze, color and glow you get in one palette is insanely luminous!

3. Slip Silk Pillow Case

Most Taurus people I know can take a nap anywhere however if it was their way they would be sleeping in gold-made cloth, let’s be real. Is Silk a close second, Taurus? Hear me out, Slip Silk Pillow case brings so many benefits for your skin and hair, so no more bedhead and irritated skin for you! I just believe there is no sign that deserves this more than you - no shade but invest in your bed, Taurus! You’re always in it. 

4. Sunday Riley Auto Correct Brightening and DE puffing Eye Contour Cream

Kind on the pricey side, but is that really a problem for you? Use this product to depuff your under eyes after all that sodium you consumed last night. Instead of feeling bad, you’ll be waking up as beautiful as ever - NO REGRETS. 

And what you truly need is....

5. Amika Polished Perfect Straightening Brush 2.0 

I don’t get why you guys get a bad rep for being lazy - you’re just selectively active! This hair tool would help make your hair look amazing and sleek in just 7 minutes. All you have to do is brush your hair and watch it de-frizz. This was made for you, you’re welcome.

If you were born between May 22 - June 21 you’re a Gemini…

Honestly you guys scare, but in a good way. Every Gemini I know has the facial expression of someone that’s about to bite you, but again in a good way. Seriously jokes aside, you guys are a blast to be around. You are adaptable, outgoing and extremely intelligent. Although you guys have a male spirit, you also have a flirtatious provocative side – I mean Naomi Campbell and Marilyn Monroe are the queens of Geminis! They love being different and challenging - keep reading! 

1. Flaunt it Butt Sheet

You guys have a hard time sticking to anything unless it’s super interesting or eye grabbing. I gotchu, here’s a sheet mask, not for your face, but for your butt. I know you’re intrigued, go ahead and purchase it.

2. Kiehl’s Cannabis Sativa Seed Oil Herbal Concentrate

So you’re ranting to everyone about how the world is ending soon due to pollution and our lack of care towards mother earth while chugging down water from a plastic bottle. I mean it’s outrageous to you! Here is a gift from Mother Nature, go ahead and use this CBD oil to calm down your worries and pimples.

3. Winky Lux Confetti Lip Balm

This lip balm is the perfect one for you, Gemini! No seriously, it swipe this clear balm on your lips to get the perfect shade of pink depending on your PH, it’s just for you. It’s your shade. 

4. Dr Jart Shake & Shot Rubber Masks 

Okay so maybe you’re over the whole over-socializing lifestyle, maybe for two days you want to convince yourself that you want to be tamed, so here’s a cool milkshake face mask to get you going. (don’t let it explode)

5. Eyeliner Brown Marc Jacobs

Hands down the best eyeliner. If you’re tired of your look, go ahead and do a small brown eyeliner for a small change. And if we’re being honest, whenever you’re really tired of your look dare to create fake freckles all over your face with this product and pretend that they’ve always been there.

 If you’re born between June 22 - July 22 you’re a Cancer…

Sigh, the mother of the zodiac signs. My sister is a Cancer and the rumors are true – I have two moms. You rock the girl-next-door look but you tend to be more reserved or cold at first. When you guys are not hiding in your shell, you’re emotional, sensitive and caring. And if anyone were to glance at your loved ones the wrong way, let’s just say your mama bear claws come out to play.

And sometimes you might feel like you’re so alone on this earth because you’re overwhelmed by your emotions, but it’s okay Margot Robbie and Ariana Grande can relate! Finding products for you may be hard due to your already built in routine but here are some suggestions:

1. Kat Von D Tattoo Liner

Okay so secret’s out: you guys cry a lot. Go ahead and deny it profusely as you purchase this eyeliner – it seriously does not want to come off, even if you want it to.

2. Diptyque Baies Candle

Cancers LOVE home décor. You guys stay at home often which is why you want your space to always be the best it can be. This candle may be pricey but it’s definitely an investment, it can change the smell of your room that kinda stinks due to the lack of circulation in there.

3. Biologique Rechere p50

Now, I know you guys have a hard time switching products especially skincare because you think you found what already works and I totally respect that, but if your routine does not include this then please reconsider. It’s so good that it kinda has its own cult and it’s kinda weird. 

4. SUPERGOOP Unseen Sunscreen Broad Spectrum SPF 40

Hold on to your hats Cancers, here is another thing you have to worry about: protecting your skin due to the blue light that’s emitted from our phones and computers. No worries though, use this product that helps protect your skin from these lights! After applying the velvety material go ahead and enjoy your faboulous day of screen watching! 

5.  Lancôme Doll Lashes

I really don’t want to make a joke about crybabies anymore so I’ll stop. But seriously, this is hands down one of the best mascaras ever (it’s not waterproof though sorry) and this is coming from someone with very short straight eyelashes. It’s made for you Cancers and it’s the ultimate mascara to complete the Girl Next Door Look. 

 If you’re born between July 23 - August 22 you’re a Leo…

We get it, you’re a Leo!! I’ve never met a Leo who did not miss a chance to say they are a Leo. I understand why though, these creatures are charismatic, honest, generous and honestly boastful! Queens of this sign include Jennifer Lopez, Madonna, Kylie Jenner and Selena Gomez. Now, I know this thread is for suggesting products based on people’s signs, but I know for a fact most Leos scrolled down to this section to read whatever compliments I have to say about them. 

Now before you click off read a few SUGGESTIONS that may improve your already extraordinarily beautiful self.

1. Gisou Hair Oil

The ultimate Leo stereotype is that their hair generally matches their ego – they’re both big. Tame your hair and make sure it’s healthy with this golden honey infused serum.

2. Salted Caramel Kylighter

A highlighter approved by King Kylie. This highlighter won’t let your face go missing in the crowd. It will surely make you glow between your friends. Super attention grabbing, this highlighter is strong but not enough to let anyone think you’re a greasy chicken. (if you know you know)

3. Radiance Plus Golden Flow Booster Clarins

To protect that precious skin of yours while still maintaining your after-vacation bronze, use some of this product to make sure there is still warmth in your face all year round.

4. Murad AHA/BHA Exfoliating Cleanser 

After using so many products on your face to look glowing and bronzed all the time, let’s talk about unclogging those pores! To be used only a few times a week, this exfoliating cleanser works like a charm in revitalizing skin.

5. Tom Ford Perfume

I just feel like Leos need a perfume that is attention seeking, and we all know Tom Ford’s perfumes can be smelled a mile away. Leos please use this scent in order for the crowd to genuinely prepare itself for whatever performance you have in mind.

 If you’re born between August 23 - September 23 you’re a Virgo…

I attract a lot of Virgos in my life and thank god for that! You guys can get a bad rep due to your detail oriented vision and anal uptight attitude. However, ruled by Mercury you are extremely in-tune with your body and feel bad when things aren’t physically your way, which isn’t good but I think the world would collapse without you. Your vibe is standoff-ish but honestly, I would be too if I had this much of my shit together. Critical but honest, you’re not alone – Queen Bee herself is a Virgo and we adore her! Virgo women tend to be perfectionists and harsh on the way they look but honestly it pays off. I loved following up other Virgos including Blake Lively and Lea Michele. Take a few steps back and look over the suggestions:

1. Spirit Dust

Okay so it’s time for your post workout breakfast and you have no idea what to eat, right? Add this to your smoothie to help you destress and enjoy your endorphins all day. You really need this.

2. Tarte Concealer

How many times have you asked a Virgo for advice and didn’t take it? Always. And how many times have you went back to a Virgo and apologized for not taking the advice? Again, always. Virgos are just known to be the helpers of the zodiac sign, and I’m not saying that they’re perfect (they are) but sometimes they need to hide their shit up due to this reputation, that’s why they need this concealer!

3. Dyson Hair Dryer

You need something fast but also extremely effective to make sure you look effortlessly flawless. I know you can’t stand anything less than perfect, so here is to blow-drying your hair in less than 10 minutes and looking better than everybody else.

4.  Ilia Multi Stick Cheek and Lip

Because Virgos have a practical vibe to them, they love using multi-functioning products. This product can be used on your lips, cheeks, or eyelids! Did I mention it’s certified as “Clean” at Sephora?

5. JO Malone London Diffuser

Super practical and amazing to put around the house. Virgos love practicality and this is the perfect product to get, you don’t need to worry about a candle burning your house down or refilling your machine with batteries when you have this! You don’t need to think twice!

That’s it for the first half of the zodiac signs, enjoy.

xx Nina​

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan WEEK 2018] Day 3 - Spellbinding Souls & Ageless Allure

Ao3 Link:

Link to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166468

Link to previous fic (Day 2):  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154843

Link to PruCan Week 2018 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1145768

Tumblr Link:

Link to Day 2 fic ( Previous) 

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

Prompt: Mystery / Curiosity for @prucanweek

Summary:  Magic AU! Gilbert is an Old Spirit of Mischief and arcane magic - he reminisces the first time he fell in love with the demigod of the forest.

Word Count: 1,711

Age Rating/Mature: All Audiences :)

Author Note:  I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to write another magic fic... I had a blast on this one! :D 

Wisps of the forest seemed to be in a jovial mood as the soft breeze of frigid wind wound and whipped around the tall timber of the ever-stretching woods; The beauty of the forest still felt captivating, even after traversing through it’s miles of  old earth for many years. Oaken towers of bare bark wept and whistled, contrasting their full-dressed pine brethren who relished in the oncoming cold with prickles still unplucked, ready to bare the hushed chill. winter was arriving and autumn had embraced it’s end with such bountiful harvests; Gilbert smirked. If only the locals knew of Matthew’s hard work to conjure the glorious growth that befell them this term. There was some melancholic beauty in the shivering ground and although the ancient mage preferred the view in its vibrant green state or its amber tones, he withheld the urge to intervene in its natural order. No wallowing flora would deceive him, nor the crawling fauna which was crying out for a healing warmth would trick him into touching it- His beloved would berate him for messing with the work of Mother Nature and of the other olden Gods.

It was peculiar for him. To now have the discipline to not interfere with the natural order or to pester the environment, and for what? The icy pale magi was an ancient master of his craft if he wanted he could be the harbinger of fear, instil curses upon a prideful soul or charm the village beauty with a simple evocative spell… he could have ransacked the valley for himself and live in the silent retreat he once yearned for. And yet, he chooses to wander in the elegance of his lover’s eloquent craft. Matthew’s attention to detail when working on his land was impeccable, and while it’s autumn glory felt ephemeral, he found it timely that the season change now; of course Matthew made the transition as gradual and untroubled as possible. His sore feet had brought him to the small familiar cottage. A warm fire must have been blazing as he saw the ashy smoke climb up and out of the chimney with a slow but steady drag. Matthew had to be working on a new spell- the door had been left open and footsteps suggested the man had recently gone out to pick at the rosemary bush in the dirt nearby. With a grin he walked in, making sure to shake off any residing dirt and too warm up his cheeks that were marked in pink by the seasonal weather. Hunched over a book and telekinetically balancing multiple tools (namely a spoon and a mixture of woodland ingredients) within the air, His beloved had been enthusiastically humming as if to harmonise with the crackling fire just ahead of them.

“A new breakthrough perhaps or have the ancient Lords given you a new project?” Gilbert mused, breaking the focus that the strawberry blonde had on his work, thus making the once floating objects clatter violently on the ground.

“Gil! You must see what Kiku had teleported to us! Wild ‘ Flammulina velutipes’ - Winter fungus!” Matthew had brought forth a handful of shrooms, ranging in shades of brown but all holding a distinct earthy smell. The pure amazement on the younger mage bewildered Gilbert; For the centuries Gilbert had moved along this existence, he had encountered this plant in the far east end of the world- what was so spectacular of this bunch that had excited his love? Obviously seeing this puzzlement, Matthew explained with great engagement over his research:

“It’s a rare brand of its own kind which can withstand winter! And I’ve grown these before but when cultivated it loses its colour for a milky white palette. It’s so difficult to find the wild versions but Kiku had many growing in his territory among the roots of his persimmon trees so he teleported a stock over to me!” Matthew’s grin growing ever so adoring and thankful, the gratitude evident in his soft eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to send him a gift then? Maybe another protectant charm for his people’s new harbours?” Gilbert supplied as he watched Matthew fiddle with putting away the sacred gift as well as picking up the dropped items and rummaging around to put them away. The pale man had picked up a few out of place belongings and stacked them neatly in order to assist in the cleaning.

“I thought so too, he’d been having trouble with the water spirits again. I just finished preparing one but I felt an owl would not be appropriate for a border-crossing journey and summoning Kuma to deliver it would be disrespectful to his spirit’s resting hour.”

“How about I send it over? I’m low on mana but I’m sure I’ve got enough stored for a simple token transport…” He trailed his busy bee lover as they made their way to the living room- Matthew helping Gilbert strip off his heavy cloak and grasp his hand to pull him closer.

“There is much mana to go around Gil, I’ve already finished my duty to the forest spirits, I won't be doing much anymore- just the simple casting. Go ahead to use my supply later. Rest first.” The two bundled up on a small raggedy couch, cuddling nearer in the glow of the fireplace and enjoying each other’s voices and strong grip.

He had fallen for Matthew centuries ago. Back when Matthew had been a mere mortal, born with the blessing of a forest deity. Gil had heard of his arrival and progression even from the far distance of his homeland, the story of an extraordinary soul being carried along by murmurs and rumours of wandering spirits. The waves of silky hair that had been sunkissed, and the eyes of a lavender in bloom, all finished with a face holding youth and a kindness that radiated tranquillity. Matthew was born to learn of the forest and to take care of its livelihood. Gilbert had been passing by, a simple detour in his travel to find a place to chaotically mess with- but as a young man whose face looked to naive to go against a power like him holding a staff pointing straight at him in defiance, the arcane magi knew this was no ordinary soul, tales of his prowess were faithful. The youth had approached him on a warm spring evening just as Gilbert had arrived to steal a thriving crop of flowers in a nearby field for some easy energy. Gilbert stopped his impulsive actions for a split second when he first gazed upon the enchanting soul. He had met many blessed magical folks, but like all blooming gifts, they would wither away within their short lifetimes. He had seen them come and go and he’d never expect to meet such a recent exception. Whereas many of the ancient gods were hesitant in keeping a chosen one alive for more than an average human lifetime, it became clear Matthew was much more devout and golden-hearted in his following and teachings - so much so Lady Terra had given him the prize of eternal youth and immortal breath. This did not corrupt him, and so a simple conjurer rose from the ranks of plain magic-bearing folk to becoming a preacher of the divine; Destined to also be the stealer of Gilbert’s affections and the banisher of his past cruelties.

He admired Matthew. Originally his lingering on this continent was excused by his curiosity over this new demigod, but that morphed into an infatuation over his brilliance and the bold felicity he displayed. His soul had an ineffable grace to it, tinged in an introverted humble magnificence which Gilbert was absolutely lured towards. To Matthew, Gilbert was a complete mystery; there was a distinct blurring of his past when he was questioned and in the beginning he only he knew Gilbert to be a product of much older times, times even before the great age they were currently in. Times when darkness was rampant and gods did not seek to comfort their people. At first, it was off-putting to have such a powerful being watch and follow him, but he supposed Gilbert was bored or that, like him, had discovered a while back how lonely immortality could be. They thrived off each other, like how their magic thrived off their surroundings, trust and beliefs.

It was very odd at first- when they had decided to work together. Arcane magic like Gilbert’s required intense amounts of energy, and most of the time finicky ceremonial practices must be conducted in order to tame said raw energy. Theurgy was a picky gimmick he supposed, the discipline was obnoxious and time-consuming. The complete opposite was to be said of Matthew’s….low magic (Which apparently was insulting to say)... as it focused on already present sources of energy instead of pulling it from other realms; It was practical magic that was practised on simpler spells and much simpler rituals. Tasks and objectives were clear with folk magic. The skills that bled into it were easy day-to-day kinesis and at the most complicated level, spells would involve spirit summoning like Matthew’s animal companion Kuma. Arcane magic was unpredictable in comparison to the intricately crafted logic-filled spellwork of the newer beings. Matthew’s spells fed off the rawer energy that Gilbert’s presence had provided and the other man’s feral sorcery was neutralised around the demigod’s aura. They were balanced and synced and it made them more than happy to use it as an excuse to bask in each other’s existence. It also helped of how fond they were of each other’s smiles and sweet serenities.

His fingers had been mindlessly twirling strands of his lover’s hair, catching and twisting in the movement as they bother lazed around. Pushed up against his chest, the blonde had somehow conjured a woven blanket and snuggled up pleasantly into Gilbert’s personal space. It had been centuries since he met Matthew and there was still no sense of foreboding desire to run away or to break loose, and he sincerely hoped he never has such awful thoughts. They cherished the company and with his lips pressing into his soulmate’s own, even in such cold weather did his heart grow cosy with love.