#like she’s very cool in this book but she’s supposed to be like the worst bene gesserit of all time

[weirdgirlfriend]

i like the brian herbert and kevin j. anderson dune books in the same way i like cheetos. i know they’re not good or good for me, but who am i to deny myself such pleasures from time to time?

[bvidzsoo]

Under the pretense (1)

The second installment of Popular boys? Overrated ♡

❝𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲.❞

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

🎭Warning: cursing, very slight mention of being suicidal 🎭Word count: 6.2k 🎭Genre: humor, cliché themes, 90's rom-com vibes; University!au; Popular guy!au; Sport!au; Enemies to Lovers!au 🎭Rating: nc-17 🎭Summary: What was supposed to be the best time of your life turned into something more bizarre and only slightly fun. Don't get me wrong, having to share your theater class out of the blue with popular guy Jeong Yunho, to most, didn't sound like the worst idea, but to you...yeah, you would've been more grateful if the principal found other methods of punishment for her son's misbehavior.

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I present you the start of Yunho and our MC's story, I hope it caught your attention and you'll stick around for the next two parts. You can also check out Seonghwa's, which happens in the same universe, it's in the series m.list. The taglist is open, so just lmk in whose part you'd like to be tagged. I made a visual board and playlist for the series, so check them out as I still update them! ^^ Thank you for reading and let me know what you thought of this part, I love reading your feedback! divider

Taglist: @anxiousskylar @philijack @alienvibecheck @yunhosfairy

♡ Series M.list ♡

꧁༺ Visual Board ༻꧂

♫ Playlist ♫

            I had always been a dreamer, a child with big sparkling eyes, eager to discover the world and its wonders. My parents had always considered me naïve and way too kind, but I found life easier to navigate if I remained humble and kind to those around me. I was not too fond of loud spaces and huge crowds, I would much rather prefer smaller circles where everyone came together to spend their time in silence. That’s how I discovered my elementary school’s reading club. I had been young and disoriented after a strenuous P.E. class when walking down the hallway, pushed into a door by two bigger boys as they chased each other down the hallway. The door I was slammed into wasn’t closed, so I very ungraciously fell inside a classroom in which five people sat in a circle, in silence, with books in their hands and candy on the round table. Eyes fell onto me, mostly surprised, and I blushed as I sputtered my apologies, embarrassed and wanting to hide away as I had disturbed their peace, but my curiosity got the better of me. The teacher in the room made sure I was fine and asked whether I wanted to join them when she noticed me staring longingly at the book in her hands. I didn’t say no to her.

And really, that’s how my love for literature and theatre sparked, evolving into a passion by the time I reached my high school graduation. I knew what I wanted to be, I knew what I had to do next. I had been a theatre kid my whole life, so when my mother rushed inside my room one cool summer evening with my acceptance letter in her hands, I knew my life would change in the next few seconds. Allston Hall University, the dream institution of every student who wishes to become someone important and useful in the near future. I was one of those students, tears streaming down my cheeks due to happiness when my mother read the letter, informing me that I had been accepted and was even the student with the highest grade currently. It was a dream come true, everything I have worked for, my aspirations and hard work were tangible, and I finally felt like I could release the breath of air that’s been constricting my lungs ever since I sent in my application. I was rushing towards the future I wanted, the one I had been dreaming of.

But all good things had a downside to them. Allston Hall University was huge, the biggest in our county, and it harboured various majors and many people, to the point you’d have to watch your every step in the hallways to avoid crashing into anyone. My first day, and week, had been nerve-wracking. People were loud and friendly, sometimes too friendly, to the point I felt uncomfortable in their presence and had to excuse myself to take a moment of solitude. Despite being a theatre kid myself, I felt like the odd one in my circle of people, the one that didn’t fully belong, the one that was a bit different. Everyone around me was outgoing and boisterous, eager to be heard, and even more eager to make more friends. I was quiet and curious, but I liked watching people from the sidelines, assessing a situation from afar before jumping into anything. I liked to meet new people, but I struggled to find common ground with them. I never had many friends growing up, most were surface-level, but the one true friend I did have decided to move counties and start working, instead of following an academic path. There was nothing wrong with that, but our time was limited together and she rarely visited, our friendship has transformed into a long-distance one.

But, to my utmost surprise, I didn’t stay friendless at this huge university for too long. As an extracurricular, I have picked up a Visual Arts class since I have been always interested in it. The class was small and filled with people who dressed better than in any fashion magazine I had seen, all of them having a peculiar aura that I seemed to enjoy a lot. And, to my surprise, they were more like me than my own colleagues. They were quiet, mostly sticking to themselves with big headphones on as they bobbed their heads to the music, briefly greeting you once you entered the classroom. They were mostly art majors, but they didn’t make me feel bad for not being one. A passion was a passion, and they didn’t make fun of you for loving what you loved. However, even here, it seemed that there was someone who wasn’t like the others, someone who was loud and energetic, always laughing and joking with students and professors alike. She was like a happy virus, her happy disposition contagious, and without realizing it at first, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was because we were complete opposites, unlike my closest friend who thought and viewed the world similarly to me, but with Wendy everything seemed to feel like a new experience.

I couldn’t tell when it happened when the two of us became best friends, but it’s been a year since and we were almost inseparable. Wendy loved spending her free time with me, humming to herself and drawing while I wrote sonnets and read through the next play we’d be going through or even performing with Mrs. Jeong. Wendy felt like a fresh breeze, ready to yank me away from my monotonous days, eager to experience something new. I hated amusement parks, but I went to one with her and had the fun of my life, having never screamed or laughed as much as that afternoon. Wendy couldn’t skate, but one snowy evening, I took her to the skating ring and taught her how to find her balance, and through baby steps, she became even better than me. Wendy loved visual arts but she never understood the charm of a book, a play, or a poem, so I brought her along to the reading club I had been frequenting since my freshman year in high school, and it was an unforgettable experience for the both of us, but Wendy concluded that perhaps literature just wasn’t for her. Much similar to my experience, when I let her drag me to Allston Hall’s first baseball game of the year, all excited and giddy to see her favourite players, only for me to conclude at the end of the game that the sport held no interesting elements for me to find likeable or enjoyable, baseball just wasn’t invented for me.

So yes, Wendy and I were opposite sides of the same coin, eager to learn more and discover the world through our own lenses while dragging the other after ourselves. This would explain why we were currently decked out at the bleachers, sitting at the lowest spot as Wendy’s eyes followed the boys while they played a friendly game and warmed up for their very soon upcoming game. Wendy was athletic and loved to get in a good morning run, which she usually did outside the bleachers to catch a peek of when the boys would go in to exercise. It was embarrassing at first, to walk in every second day with her and have the boys gawking at us, but now it was plainly amusing to see Wendy fall over herself whenever one of them acknowledged her. Her father had been a player in a smaller league, so Wendy grew up in the sport, hence her immense love for it. She was convinced the boys on the University’s team were undiscovered gems and she made sure to stick around them until one of them finally asked her out. She thought I didn’t know, but it was rather obvious that her eyes were set on Byun Baekhyun, the biggest trickster on the team with a notorious grip that could send any batter into a spiral when he’d pitch—these were Wendy’s words, not mine.

I continued flipping through the shortened version of Pride and Prejudice as we would soon do a small audition to see who got which role. Mrs. Jeong wanted to do something special and new this year, so there have been added elements to the play—ones that would send Jane Austen into an existential crisis, in my opinion, but Mrs. Jeong likes to think out of the box and considers herself an innovative person—which I agree with, but the play would’ve been best without the modifications done to it. Wendy, sitting in front of me as I had taken the bench between my legs, hunched over my play, sighed dreamily and tapped her fingers against her chin. She was usually a very loud person, but surprisingly she knew when to remain silent, when to give me space and tranquillity to be able to enjoy my reading time. Her short hair stuck to her nape as she decided to run an extra lap this morning, on the verge of hyperventilating when she finally ran inside the arena, spotting me easily as I was the only person in the bleachers while the boys did their warm-ups. Her bag was with me and I knew she refrained from sprawling out on the ground just because Baekhyun was watching her, so I handed her the water bottle with an amused smile. Wendy took it with gratitude and sprinkled some on her face and neck before she took a small sip, chest still heaving from her run.

“That was very sexy of you,” I said with a chuckle as she settled next to me, trying to regulate her breaths as she caught Baekhyun’s eyes, cheeks flushing even deeper as he waved in our direction. Wendy fumbled with her water bottle for a second, then eagerly waved back and pushed my thigh with her elbow to acknowledge Baekhyun as well. I flashed him a smile and gave him a curt nod, which he returned before the coach blew his whistle and called out his name to get him to focus again.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Wendy mumbled, grabbing her towel out of her bag, “my throat was parched and my brain felt like it was overheating.”

“When will you stop finding ways to kill yourself?” I raised an eyebrow and Wendy gave me a look of confusion.

“I’m just pushing my limits, nothing you have to worry about.” Wendy shrugged, taking a sip of her water again, “You know I’m training for the marathon.”

“Right, I almost forgot.” I fixed Wendy with a stare, rather unimpressed as it was impossible to forget that she was training for next month’s marathon. She speaks of it daily, around the same time after she finishes her run and complains about being on the verge of passing out, I’m sure there are other ways of training yourself for a marathon that don’t involve putting too much pressure on yourself and sending your body into despair as it clings to life—a bit dramatic, but that’s what being a theatre kid made of me.

This was half an hour ago, and now Wendy had completely settled down as she was leaned back on her hands, gazing out onto the field as I blocked out the sound of a bat hitting the ball every few minutes, enraptured by the play as I imagined Mr. Darcy standing in front of me, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes shining with confusion as Miss Elizabeth—me—tells him that he cannot disrespect her whole family and look down on her, and then expect her to fall to her knees and accept his affections. The language was a lot more modern than the one Jane Austen had used, this is where Mrs. Jeong’s crafting comes into play and makes me cringe as Elizabeth is supposed to tell Mr. Darcy that ‘she won’t throw herself at him like every other bitch’, I just knew Jane Austen was rolling in her grave at the atrocity that’s been done to her masterpiece. I could try and convince Mrs. Jeong to modify that part, hopefully, as she’s rather keen on me due to how seriously I take her classes. Cheers erupted on the field and they increased in volume as Wendy gasped next to me, holding her hands together as she was on the verge of shooting up from her seat. The boys were merely training, yet Wendy treated it like a real game every time she got the chance.

“Oh, that’s a home run—” Wendy’s voice was strained, and she sprang up from her spot as the whole team exclaimed, making me lose my train of thought as I couldn’t focus in loud surroundings, “Seungkwan just hit a home run!”

I looked out towards the field as the boys crowded around Seungkwan, forming a circle as they made howling sounds and jumped around, making Seungkwan cackle loudly as he basked in the attention. He was a rather uptight guy, but out on the field, he was simply amazing although he’s never managed to hit a home run until now.

“Oh, this is amazing,” Wendy mused, her eyes sparkling as she clapped away, showing the boys thumbs-up as they turned our way to bow, pushing Seungkwan to the front as he grinned widely, “They’ll ace the next game, Y/N, I can feel it deep in my bones.”

I chuckled but said nothing as I knew this meant a lot to Wendy, and only grabbed her arm to make her sit down when the coach threw her an irritated look. They couldn’t kick us out because we weren’t doing anything illegal or interrupting their training, but I knew the coach wasn’t too fond of two girls always lingering around the bleachers to distract his boys. Not that it was our attention, but I have caught them busy ogling us instead of doing their warm-ups. Wendy was buzzing as she sat down, chewing her bottom lip before she started chewing her nails, making me grip her wrist to stop her as I knew she did it subconsciously. She gave me a grateful smile and I turned back to my play as the boys had calmed down too, going back to their friendly game.

“Do you want to stay for longer?” I asked as I flipped to the next page, eyebrows furrowing as it was Mr. Darcy’s monologue that wasn’t in the original work, “I think I could make use of a coffee right now.”

“Can’t we stay for another fifteen minutes at least?” Wendy asked with a pout, her sparkly eyes widening as I gave her an unimpressed look, “Yunho is up for pitching right now and then it’s Baekhyun again, I promise we can leave once he’s done.”

I sighed but knew I wouldn’t drag my best friend away before she got to watch Baekhyun pitch again, so I just nodded and threw a quick glance at the field. Indeed, player number 04 was up for pitching, Jeong Yunho. His name didn’t leave a distaste in my mouth as I, thankfully, had never had to interact with him, but it was inevitable to know who he was with how huge his reputation had gotten over the last year. We started out at university at the same time, he’s been a baseball player since he was just a child, and he was rising in the ranks rather quickly. He was amazing, even as someone who still didn’t understand how baseball worked, I knew he was good at what he did and he was often praised for his skills. He was the best pitcher the team had—the university has had for ages, at least based on the coach’s words—and he carried himself like a successful athlete would, always smiling brightly with his warm eyes twinkling with mischief-ridden in them.

Sure, Jeong Yunho had a warm and perceiving aura, friendly and even kind, but even those couldn’t stop the rumours spreading of him being a heartthrob. Better said, he was a womanizer. He appeared to be this soft and puppy type of guy, sweeping girls off their feet with his acts of service and soft-spoken nature, but just as quickly as he wrapped them around his fingers, he dropped them without his ‘kind’ smile breaking from his lips, eyes even teary when he told them that he just wasn’t right for them, that they deserved someone better. Behind his innocent mask lay a man who enjoyed playing with others and using them to his liking with a deceiving smile and excuses that didn’t make sense upon another thought. But many girls didn’t care about the rumours, they thought they were simply fake because certainly the sweet and kind Jeong Yunho couldn’t be like that, not with them at least. And that is exactly how they go their hearts broken by the most sought out playboy of our university, from the baseball team at least. The soccer team was even worse, you’d never hear the end of how cool and mysterious Park Seonghwa was. Personally, I preferred my peace of mind and stayed away from both.

I heard the bat collide against the ball with a loud bang, and I could tell it was a strong hit as the boys ‘oohed’, but Wendy just gasped, stiffening in her seat. I paid it no mind as she reacted to every single thing the players did, living in the moment and giving her all to the game—even if just friendly. But some exclaimed alarmed and tried to warn us—or me—of something, but I was too busy ignoring them as my irritation levels were rising. I just really wanted a cup of coffee and silence to be able to finish reading the play before my class later today.

“Y/N!” Wendy’s shrill exclamation made my head snap up, taking in her wide eyes as she gesticulated, only confusing me more. Turning my head to the right, to see what got the boys reacting like that as well, my own eyes widened into saucers when I realized a white small ball was hurling at my face rather quickly. I knew I could dodge it, it wasn’t too late yet, but I felt blindsided as I stared at it, accepting the fact that it would either break my nose or give me a black eye. But someone was moving on the field, had been for a few seconds now, running full speed towards me and the ball. And before it could collide against my face and ruin it, a black glove was in my face, so close that if I puckered my lips, it would’ve touched the fabric. My heart was beating fast and I stared up at the person who caught the ball with wide eyes, exhaling loudly as Wendy yelped and shot up from her seat again.

For a second, it was completely silent, even the coach stood staring at us with an open mouth, whistle threatening to fall from it, but the boys on the field suddenly started howling once again, yelling and calling out my ‘saviour’s’ name. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as his cheeks were rosy from the bite of frost of the morning air, but also from having pitched for the last few minutes. I could feel my own cheeks tinge red from the adrenaline and also from the way the guy’s warm chocolate eyes seemed to melt into mine. Yunho looked pleased that he managed to catch the ball, and his fingers closed around it as he lowered his hand and leaned down a little. My back was rigid as I couldn’t help but blink at him wordlessly, gripping the play tightly in my hands.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows furrowed more, and his face was ridden with worry as he searched for eye contact. I gulped and averted my eyes, exhaling shakily.

“Yes,” I took a tentative glance at Yunho and cleared my throat, “thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” My eyebrows furrowed as he looked apologetic, biting his bottom lip which was cherry red and plump, “I positioned my arm wrong and I was distracted when I pitched, I almost hurt you.”

“Oh, uhm,” I stared at him for a few seconds as I felt Wendy sit back down and subtly nudge my arm, “It’s fine, you managed to catch it so—good job?”

Yunho chuckled, and I was taken aback by how high-pitched it sounded and how warm his tone was, cheeks puffy and rosy, and definitely giving him this sweet and innocent aura, “Glad to be your saviour despite putting you in harm's way myself.”

I hummed as I found myself lost for words, all the acting classes I had taken flying out the window. There was something about his gaze that made me feel small, made me forget how to articulate my words, “Best if it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Yunho chuckled and I felt embarrassed, but he didn’t look like he meant bad, he seemed simply amused. I was sure he could tell I was flustered and that only made me feel more embarrassed, “Right, I’ll try to keep my eyes off you next time then, focus more on pitching.”

Wendy gasped next to me as I just stared at Yunho dumbfounded, trying not to let my confusion show at the sudden change of events. Well, I was under the impression nobody paid me any mind as I never really paid them any mind, I was here for Wendy and it was pretty obvious.

“Are you reading a play by any chance?” Yunho asked as he looked down at my lap, and I cleared my throat, feeling hesitant as I nodded my head.

“Yeah, Pride and—”

“Pride and Prejudice,” He smiled sweetly, his eyes hidden by his baseball cap, “my favourite.”

I knew Wendy wanted to scream and jump up and down, but she was doing a good job of remaining put and silent. For some reason, Yunho didn’t pass me as the person who would pick up a book, let alone a play, to read, so I just gave him a tight smile and an unimpressed look. I had heard the rumours, and I was sure they were true, I didn’t want to fall for his schemes.

“Right.” My tone was a bit sharp and I knew it took him off guard because his eyebrows twitched, “Aren’t you supposed to be pitching?”

And as if the coach had heard my words, he blew his whistle loudly and shouted, “Jeong, get back on the field!”

Yunho bit his lower lip and grabbed his cap as he nodded his head, winking at me before he was jogging back onto the field, making me grimace. Wendy’s eyebrows were raised and she had a suggestive smile on her face, but I just sighed and shook my head, deciding that I wanted to have coffee now, “We both know he sleeps with every girl and then dumps them right after, so before you get even started, I’m not interested in him at all.”

“But he’s so handsome and tall.” Wendy sighed dreamily and I chuckled, standing up.

“There are plenty of tall and handsome guys at our university, I’ll find myself a decent one, thank you very much.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my coffee.”

“But Baekhyun hadn’t pitched yet.”

I chuckled as Wendy whined, rooted to her place as I got off the bench.

“Meet me at the coffee shop then, I have class in an hour so don’t stay for long.”

“I love you! Save me a seat by the window!”

I chuckled and nodded, waving Wendy off as she focused on the game again, eyes wide and attentive. I kept to the side of the field so that I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and walked quickly so that I could be out of the arena swiftly, without angering the coach. Wonwoo, who was the left fielder, threw me a quick smile and I waved at him as I passed by, feeling eyes on the back of my head. I didn’t turn around to check who it was as the coach had spotted me and narrowed his eyes at me. I bowed my head and then slipped out of the arena, less stressed and happier now that I was about to get my caffeine fill of the day.

             The rest of my day had gone well, and I was more than excited to attend my last class of the day, drama class. We’d hold the rest of our courses at the small theatre of the University as Mrs. Jeong wanted us to focus on the upcoming play only, assignments already handed out as our final grade now depended on finishing it on time and also delivering our best in the play, the two grades turning into our final score. I happily skipped down the stairs of the theatre and greeted a few of my colleagues as I settled not too far from the front rows, somewhere in the middle of the row. I liked sitting by myself so that nobody could distract me while Mrs. Jeong gave us advice and coached us on how to deliver the lines, when to put emotion in it and just how much of it. I placed my coat on the chair on my right and left my backpack on the floor as I leaned down to unzip it and grab the play, my yellow notebook, a black pen and a green marker. I heard the door of the theatre close and open loudly, then running down the stairs and shuffling as I straightened up, trying to organize my things in my lap as I waited for Mrs. Jeong to show up.

To my surprise, there was movement on my left and I looked over, curious of who decided to sit right next to me when there were numerous empty seats in the theatre, only to find Jeong Yunho staring back at me with a surprised expression similar to mine on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey I know you, hi!”

Yunho and I spoke at the same time as I heard the girls sitting a few rows in the back behind us whisper and giggle to each other. Yunho flushed as he pushed his leather jacket off his wide shoulders and settled quietly in the seat next to mine. I continued staring at him with confusion as his legs spread out wide, his head turning to face me.

“You’re the girl from this morning,” Yunho said as he disregarded my question, “I actually see you around the field often, do you like baseball?”

“No.” I deadpanned and Yunho’s enthusiasm died out at once, smiling unsure, “My friend loves baseball so I tag along with her sometimes.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Yunho’s smile became more confident as his eyes took in my features, making me feel a bit uncomfortable, “And how are you?”

“I’m—fine.” I still didn’t understand what he was doing here, but I wasn’t about to be rude to him, “And you?”

Yunho’s smile widened into a grin, and he threw a short glance behind us when the girls started giggling louder, “Rather good knowing you’re here too. Why are you here?”

I tried to refrain from sighing at his not-so-subtle flirting and occupied my hands as I grabbed my marker and fiddled with it, “I’m a drama major, Yunho.”

Yunho’s eyes widened for a small fraction, cheeks flushing, “Oh, that sounds lovely, I—sorry, I’m just taken aback that you know my name.”

I didn’t mean to glare at him, but he was bad at playing the abashed and shy boy persona, perhaps a few acting courses wouldn’t do him bad, “You’re on the baseball team and I have gone to almost every game of yours, so I think it’s only natural I know everyone’s name on the team, no?” I didn’t let him answer me as I gave him a scrutinizing look, “Besides, you’re quite famous for breaking the hearts of the girls you go out with, right?”

Now, I could tell he was actually flustered as he averted his eyes, biting his bottom lip as the flush from his cheeks spread to his ears too. Yunho’s dark hair was messy and wavy, and he wore his glasses now. The black turtleneck made him look comfy and safe, his dark jeans complementing his long legs nicely.

“Ah, those are just rumours, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” He rubbed his nape and looked back at me, “I’m sorry, I never caught your name.”

I sighed and thought about whether I should tell him, but it was only right since I knew his name and didn’t want to look like a prick, “It’s Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He grinned widely and extended his hand to shake, “I’m Yunho, but you know that already.”

I hummed and took his hand, a little surprised by how long his fingers were and how much bigger his palm was, it made me blush as I carefully pulled my hand out of his, busying myself with my marker, “So, what are you doing here? It’s a bit weird seeing a sports major here, you know.”

Yunho groaned and I glanced at him to see him rubbing his forehead, “Don’t even tell me about it, it’s completely against my will, if I’m being honest. Not that I hate the theatre or anything, but I’d be much rather doing something else.”

“Well, you can just get up and walk out before the professor comes, you know,” I suggested, nodding my head towards the exit, but Yunho had a solemn look on his face. He let his hands fall in his lap as he intertwined his fingers.

“Actually, I can’t.” He pouted, and I tried not to think of him as a manchild, it wasn’t very appealing, “You see, I might have done something that was against the rules, and this is basically my punishment if I don’t want to lose my scholarship, or worse, get kicked out. I mean, my career would be ruined before I even had the chance to start it, you know?”

I nodded, pretty much on board with what he was saying, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, it sucks but I still don’t understand why drama class out of all classes they could’ve punished you with.”

“Ugh, right?! Don’t even get me started on it,” Yunho rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses as he licked his lips, turning his body to face mine, “Like, the principal is totally crazy for placing me in this class! I don’t know why she thought a little play-pretending would fix my attitude—her words, not mine—but it certainly won’t. Like, whatever I did wasn’t even that serious, it’s the fact that the stupid professor can’t take a joke, I didn’t even sleep with his daughter!”

So, this is who the real Jeong Yunho was, unfiltered, and apparently, not as perfect and charming as everyone thought him to be. I chuckled, amused that he’d have to suffer through our drama classes because I knew the outsiders always viewed us as crazy whenever they stumbled through the doors of the theatre, “And how long until your punishment is over?”

“This whole semester, can you believe it?” Yunho sounded annoyed, but his face remained void of any annoyance as he slumped in his chair, looking defeated, “I swear to God, the principal was high on some shit when she threatened to throw me out if I didn’t heed her orders. It’s like—I know she’s my mother but we’re at school, for fuck’s sake! Like—this is university, she can’t punish me like I’m some sort of five-year-old, no?!”

I covered my mouth to try and hide my amusement at his outburst, which got other students chuckling. I meant to answer him, but a rather loud scoff coming from the first row caught everyone’s attention as suddenly they stood, whirling around, hands on their hips. My amusement died down as my eyes widened, staring at Mrs. Jeong in surprise, I didn’t know she was there, I thought she was running late.

“Oh, really, young man?” Her sharp eyes narrowed, and I watched from the corner of my eyes as Yunho’s own widened, mouth falling open, “You think you’re here because I believed whatever that professor accused you of? No, you’re here because you promised me you’d stop fooling around, yet here we are!”

“Mom?” Yunho seemed pale as Mrs. Jeong glared him down, he turned to me with a desperate look on his face, “What’s she doing here?!”

He whisper-shouted as Mrs. Jeong scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. I felt a bit awkward and put on the spot as I nodded in acknowledgement at her, then faced her son, “Mrs. Jeong is the head of our department.”

Yunho’s eyes widened comically and I chuckled as I bit my lower lip, “Uhm, did you not know that your mother is the head of the drama club and department?”

“No!” Yunho whisper-shouted and eyed his mother, who had started to grin in contentment. I could see the resemblance in the two as I looked between the mother and son, their smiles were the same and their cheeks were puffy and almost always rosy. Mrs. Jeong was a lovely and compassionate woman, it sometimes made me wonder why Yunho had such little respect for women when his mother must’ve raised him right.

“If you’re done parading yourself, son, I’d like to start my class, thank you very much.” Mrs. Jeong raised her eyebrows and Yunho grumbled something under his breath as he slipped lower in his chair.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeong.” He avoided eye contact with his mother and Mrs. Jeong smiled in victory, eyes taking in the place as she counted how many there were of us. I smiled at her when her eyes fell on me and she returned it, clapping her hands once she was done.

“Good, I see more of you joined us—I didn’t count my son in—I hope you’re all ready to rehearse for the play before the auditions, and I’m more than eager to help you all out. Today, I’d like to highlight some of the culminant points of the play and discuss the acting techniques they should be delivered with.” Mrs. Jeong intertwined her hands behind her back and nodded before she went to grab her own copy of the play. Yunho looked helpless as he glanced around the room, sighing long as he peered down at my lap over my shoulder.

“Uh, can you share yours with me?” He grumbled, not so smiley anymore, “I didn’t know what we’d be doing today, I’ll bring my play for the next class.”

“Just this once,” I said with a pointed look and put my copy of the play between us, “I don’t like to share and I like to sit alone, just so you know in the future.”

“All alone?” Yunho asked curiously, “Don’t you like sharing?”

“I like my peace of mind and quiet.” I answered, raising my eyebrows at him, “And I really like to be left alone, Yunho, so don’t try to distract me.”

“Okay,” He whispered as he flipped through the pages, making me give him a small glare, “I’ll be silent, but don’t expect me to survive this whole semester if you ignore me the whole time.”

“Go make friends, I’m sure the girls behind us are more than eager to sit with you,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes, and Yunho grinned as he leaned slightly closer.

“Is that a hint of jealousy—”

“Mr. Jeong,” Mrs. Jeong snapped and we both looked at her alarmed, she was frowning at her son, “Leave Miss Lee alone, yes? Or I’ll make sure to fail you in this class—”

“But mom!” Yunho whined, sitting up straight as he leaned forward, “You can’t do that, I’m not even registered for this class!”

“Really?” Mrs. Jeong chuckled, “Aren’t you?”

“You did not.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Yunho’s mouth fell open in shock, and I had to turn my head to hide my silent laugh as Yunho turned into a whining manchild once again, “You will behave in my class, young man, and you’ll let Miss Lee be, understood?”

“Understood, Mrs. Jeong.” Yunho grumbled under his breath and looked down, a grimace on his face as he muttered something to himself, “I can’t even skip class now, for fuck’s sake.”

A laugh slipped through as I gave Yunho another amused smile and then grabbed my marker, way too amused by how things were turning out to be. Yunho didn’t look too amused but Mrs. Jeong did, and she spoke up with a smile on her face, asking us to flip to the thirteenth page of our play.

I could only hope Jeong Yunho, the Casanova, wouldn’t ruin one of my favourite classes for me.

❱❱ Next act

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[cosyvelvetorchid]

After watching a romcom with Tommy (who mentions offhand that nobody has ever romanced him like that), Buck activates his inner romantic (ie Season1Boyfriend!Buck) with one mission in mind: to completely and utterly sweep Tommy off his feet.

Tommy is this cool, confident and unflappable guy 24/7, and Buck has this need to see him blush.

Flowers, a candlelit meal, slowdancing in the moonlight. The whole shebang, and Tommy melts.

Im so sorry that this took an absolute age to get to! Lots of stuff going on and illness blah blah blah ANYWAY! Here it is, I hope you like it.

As Always if you have a bucktommy or saltommy prompt send to my ask box. Smut, fluff, whump.. whatever you want

🩶

********

RATING: T

TW: 1 use of the f-slur

WORDS: 2,432

********

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige - he always was - but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay - insisted - that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so fucking perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before Tommy had kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own.

“Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s.. we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until like 10 minutes ago so I don’t have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you.

You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned - minus is own spontaneous proposal - and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part - Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s kinda difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears fell from his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so.. it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring. Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently placed back an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[atopvisenyashill]

Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went “wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Coming home is supposed to be a happy occasion, but it's hard to be happy with your ex-boyfriend lurking around the corner.

A/N: This is a sequel series to Thorn In My Side, Rose in My Hand series.

Masterlist

Going back home is the last thing Y/N wants to do right now. The Outer Banks is full of memories from a heartbreak she does not want to remember. However, she is no match for the force known as Cassie and Marvin, and that is how she finds herself on a plane back to North Carolina. For the past five years, Y/N has done everything in her power to not step foot on the island again and now, it is all for nothing. “Please fasten your seat belts, we are preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice stirs Y/N from her slumber. She can’t believe this is actually happening right now. The elderly lady beside her smiles at her, “First time going to North Carolina?” “Uh, no. I actually grew up there, in the Outer Banks, but I haven’t been back since I left. It feels a little weird,” she answers honestly. 

“Ahh, so you were running from something.” 

“Yeah, I was. But it looks like I can’t anymore. I just hope that something isn’t there anymore.”

The plane lands and Y/N gets her bags from the carousel. She waits for Mason in the pick-up area, running towards him when she spots his car. Mason crushes Y/N in a hug, “It’s so good to see you back on American soil. This is long overdue.” Y/N pats his back while returning the hug. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be home. Did Lace get Sparky here okay?” Mason picks her suitcase up and packs it into his trunk, “Yep, he’s probably being a little energy ball in our living room as we speak.” They both laugh at the joke and then hop into the car. “So how’s your internship at the architectural firm? Is it different from the one in Toronto?” she asks her brother, bringing her hand to the locket around her neck. Heading back to the Outer Bank is causing her to be anxious and playing with the locket calms her down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mason that she still wears the necklace and is playing with it. 

“It’s going well. Most buildings that people look into getting built here are a different style than in Toronto. OBX wants beach boxes, while Toronto has a wide range of styles. It’s really fascinating watching how my boss’ designs still match to look different from one another.”

“That’s cool. I like the name beach box. It sounds fun. Like a giant sandbox. And are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I really am. Although, I do want to see if I can get an internship in an Asian country afterwards. They have a different style that’s interesting. How is the bookstore coming along?”

“A little stressful right now to be honest. Juggling my book edits and what I need to change or add so that the building is up to code and now being here. It’s all just a little too much. At least, I have a name Bookkeeper. It’s gonna confuse people who actually know what that career is but I think it’s funny.”

“It is a good name. It’s very punny.”

“Ugh, that was so bad.”

———

One of the worst places to be is her childhood bedroom. The countless days they spent cuddling on the bed haunts her. The love they expressed physically all over the room is practically engrained in her brain. She had never been able to feel that way again. She unpacks her clothes into her closet and goes to check on Sparky downstairs. He was left down there because she didn’t want him sitting on her suitcase like he did when she was packing her bags in London. He has gotten bigger and he has a little bit of an attachment issue. He doesn’t like being very far from his Mommy for very long. Y/N’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the open front door and bolts out of it in hopes of catching her dog before he gets too far. 

She follows his barks like a trail of breadcrumbs to the sidewalk. If her heart wasn’t already giving her problems, it certainly is now. The sight before her is one she never thought she would see again. Rafe Cameron is kneeling down and petting Sparky. Beside him is a beautiful woman in a sundress. Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders and her brown almond-shaped eyes show such warmth behind them. Her makeup is done to absolute perfection. Y/N slowly approaches the trio without hesitation. She doesn’t want to go near Rafe, but seeing as it doesn’t look like Sparky is nowhere near going home, she had to go get him.

 “Hey Sparky, long time no see. It’s good to see you again, Bubba. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ya. You’ve gotten so big,” she hears him greet. As she approaches, she accidentally steps on a stick and the crack alerts the others to her presence. “Hey,” she awkwardly begins. “I’m just here for my dog.” Rafe nods and stands up, moving to wrap his hand around the woman’s waist. “Uh, yeah. I remember a time when he used to be my dog too.” Sensing the tension, his companion introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Blythe Katsumi. I’m Rafe’s fiancée.” Blythe sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake, which she does. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Rafe’s- uh…this is Sparky.”

“It’s okay. I know you were his high school girlfriend. He told me about you.”

“Right. And he didn’t tell me about you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yeah, well it’s not like we were doing a lot of talking in the last five years. What are you doing here, Y/L/N?” 

“You mean besides looking for my dog, in front of my house? The better question is what are you doing here Rafe?”

“I have every right to be here because unlike you, I’ve been coming back home.”

Before Y/N can retort, Blythe stops the conversation from going any further. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, but we need to go. We have to get some stuff ready for the engagement party.” Blythe waves goodbye and takes Rafe’s hand to walk away. This draws Y/N attention to Blythe's left hand with the giant diamond engagement ring. This causes a stabbing feeling to shoot through Y/N’s heart. Her hand shoots up to her locket and she begins to rub it for some comfort. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he catches it from the corner of his eye.

———

Everyone has their own vices. Cheating. Gambling. Alcohol. Lying. Rafe’s is drugs. There was a period of time in his life when weed was not the outlet he turned to when in need of getting out of his own head. That one blissful year he had with her was his escape instead. But after the breakup, weed was the only thing that made him forget about her. Eventually, he became numb to the weed and he needed something stronger, so Barry introduced him to cocaine. Mason didn’t know that Rafe had stepped it up in the drug department because if Mason knew, he would’ve found some way to get Rafe to stop. And Rafe didn’t want to, he needed to escape the feeling of being consumed by her. 

Before today, Rafe had managed to go a month without thinking about her at all. It was his highest record in the past five years they had been apart. There was no bookstore he walked by with a girl quite similar to her standing at the window. No hard kombucha in Mason’s fridge to indicate that she had been there. No caramel ice cream at the parlour that she would beg him to buy. It was like the universe was giving him a break from being haunted by Y/N. It seems the universe is done with giving him that gift because as he drives to Barry’s house, he is drowning in thoughts of her. He loved seeing Sparky, of course, but why did she have to come back? He couldn’t get the smell of her hibiscus body wash out of his mind. The sweet but gentle tropical scent she wore contradicted the foggy and rainy place she had moved to. Her hair is held back in a claw clip he used to play with whenever she would leave them around. 

And the thing that had really caused him to spiral is her hand still holding the locket he had given her for their first Christmas as a couple. Has she been wearing it for the past five years? Had she worn it while she let other men make her feel good, but nowhere near as good as he can make her feel? Would she wear it when she told them she loved them? But most importantly, how dare she come back to what is now only his island and wear it as if she cared for him? She hasn’t been back in years or talked to him; she doesn’t get to pretend like she’s thought about him. It is driving him crazy and he needed something to stop him from going too deep down this rabbit hole. 

Barry hears Rafe’s motorbike and is waiting outside for him. “Well, well, well, look who came back from the dead. Thought you went sober on me for a second there, country club. What can I get you for you?”

“However much you got. I got a feeling that I’m gonna be needing it more often.”

He knew he would need whatever he got his hands on to help him forget about her because if he didn’t then he would remember. And it would probably kill him to remember just how his heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw Y/N Y/L/N right before his eyes.

———

When they broke up, Mason told both of them that he would not be used as a source to find out more about the other. He said it was for his own sanity in not wanting to be caught in the middle of his sister and best friend, but it was also in hopes that it would cause discourse between the two that would lead to their reunification. So it made sense that Mason would keep an engagement from her. But she still needed more information that she would give Mason no other choice but to give her. “How long have they been together, Mace?” Mason closes his eyes in a silent prayer that he isn’t about to have this painful conversation with his sister. He lifts his head from his laptop and turns towards her, “A year and a month. They’ve known each other for a year and a half.” 

“How long have they been engaged?”

“Four months.”

“Did you help him propose?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

At this, Mason can hear the sadness in his sister’s voice. He knew no matter how much she says she is over Rafe, it isn’t true. It’s why she still wears his locket after all. He knew she needed to know though. 

“You know I don’t want to get in between you two. Also, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you something that would hurt you so much. I love you and I want to protect you from that pain.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It just would’ve hurt less if it came from you,” she whispers, not knowing what else to ask or add to the conversation. She turns around and goes to her room, where she finds Sparky waiting for her. He gives her a pouty look, asking how come he couldn’t go with his Daddy. She sits down on her bed beside him and places his head on her lap, “I’m sorry, Bubba. But I did what I had to do. Breaking up with him was necessary. I mean I set him free and look at him now, he is getting married.” It hurt. It hurt that he was okay with marrying Blythe before he turned twenty-five. He wanted to speed up his life plan two years earlier just for Blythe. How come he was willing to do that for Blythe but not for Y/N? Was Blythe really that much better than her?

Doing what any other girl would do, Y/N resolves to some internet sleuthing. It wasn’t that hard to find Blythe’s Instagram. She has a public account and Mason is following her. She has an impressive 500K followers; probably because she is the heiress to a popular Japanese hotel chain. All her posts have her makeup done to perfection and her clothes are all designer. One of her saved reels is of her and Rafe partying on New Year's Eve. At least Blythe can keep up with Rafe on that level. Y/N moves her search to Google and finds Blythe’s Wikipedia page. She was born in New York and raised there. She attended UNC for fashion. From multiple tabloid pictures, she can tell that the party scene is one Blythe frequent but she is also a sweet girl. In one picture, she is giving her jacket to a homeless person along with some money when she is returning home from a party. She helps out at soup kitchens and takes children out on shopping sprees. Y/N supposes that Blythe could just be doing it for the media attention, but the look in Blythe’s eyes tells her it isn’t true. 

After finding out possibly everything she could find out about Blythe, Y/N turns all of her electronic devices off to stop her from spiralling on social media anymore. She heads over to her bookshelf in need of a bookish escape. Her eyes glance over the different titles until her eyes find one particular book she had not thought about it in a while. She pulls the book off the shelf and opens it up to the title page with the inscription on it. The copy of The Lightning Thief that Rafe had annotated sits before her. She had left it here when she went to university because it felt too hard to bring with her. It held too much meaning. As she sits down on her window sill, she begins to read the book with a special focus on the inscriptions. She reads for hours, allowing herself to feel every bit of emotion that passes through her. God, it hurts to be back home.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

[frozen-waters]

General Johnigail/Marston family hcs?? <3

ofc ofc yay yay yay!!!!!!! sorry for making John a little lover boy whenever I write johnigail and there are also a few angsty-ish hcs in here

More Johnigail and Marston Family hcs!!!

• John loves when Abigail plays the piano (canon but it makes me giggle)

• John also watches Abigail sew new clothes or mend old ones. I don’t mean this in a weird way but he likes watching her sew without her knowing. in like a sweet way. she looks peaceful to him

• I’m not sure how to explain this but the Marston family (or mostly Jack) is a few The Smiths songs to me

• speaking of The Smiths modern Jack would listen to them

• after Abigail died, Jack wished he had read to her more in his tween/teen years

• even as Jack gets older, he still laughs sometimes at the stories Uncle tells

• Jack also kept all of Abigail’s dresses that she had after she died. he didn’t really know what he was gonna do with them but he couldn’t stand getting rid of them. he did the same with John’s clothes but he kept them so he could wear them

• in modern when Abigail has to go to work in the morning or something John will wake up before her and turn on the car for her so it’ll be warm by the time she’s gotta go

• John and Abigail dancing together!!!!!!!!!!!!!! idk when but maybe if Uncle still plays the banjo or overhearing music is Blackwater!!!!!!!!!!

• modern John had a gamecube when he was in highschool but the only games he played were like. sonic, eternal darkness, and resident evil. dug it out of Hoseas garage or attic when Jack became a teen and "gifted" it to him -> has it in the livingroom and John plays it and Jack will watch him sometimes -> John also thought Jack was insane when he didn't know what he was supposed to do w a gamecube. to him its The Gift

• in modern when Jack was like 7-10 he'd infodump for an entire dinner about a book or show he read or watched in excruciating detail

• Abigail loved dressing up Jack and his sister

• the Marston daughter used Johns shirts and basketball shorts as pajamas for like. five years straight in modern

• mosquito's were Jacks worst enemy in his tween years

• Abigail loves the horses they keep on Beechers Hope. she likes keeping them all pretty and clean

• John buys Abigail jewelry sometimes. it takes all his brainpower to find something that will look nice with an outfit of hers but its worth it when he sees her get giddy over a necklace he got her

• John bought Mary-Beth's books for Abigail since they were mostly romance and he would read them to her. after John died Jack would read the books to her on her and John's anniversary along with taking her to the movies. or he'd read them to her if she asked

• in modern I know deep in my bones John had some weirdass senior quote

• in modern the Marston daughter was afraid of the dark and had a horrible habit of going into John and Abigail's room and accidentally scaring them

• modern Jack wants to have a bunch of little nick-nacks and cool stuff in his room but everything he finds he feels like it doesn't fit the "vibe" he wants

• John does recognize Jack's empathy towards the animals on the ranch. not that he knows what to do or say about it. tried sugarcoating some sickness among the animals to Jack once but eventually had to tell him what was actually happening and Jack was very sad about it

• Abigail did teach Jack to sew a tiny bit

• John would give Jack "relationship advice" (as if he fucking knows anything) when they'd go into Blackwater to sell the ranches goods

• every year for John and Abigail's anniversary he'd take her into Blackwater and take her to see a movie

• Abigail always notices when John wears a gift she got for him no matter how long ago its from

• when Abigail's sick John tries to keep the house nice and tries to cook for her even though they're both fairly bad cooks

• Jack absentmindedly tells Uncle about the book he's reading when they sit on the porch together and Uncle comes up with some story he witnessed similar to the book

• John also takes Jack to see a movie for his birthday. the first time he did Jack does that thing where he gets excited and cant really talk straight and John was proud of himself

• Jack does occasionally like helping Abigail cook or gather things in the garden

• as Jacks hair gets longer he braids little pieces of it without thinking sometimes

this wasn't as long as the last one whoops

[thebluestbluewords]

rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated

"How's your brother doing, dear?" Fairy Godmother asks, taking Chloe's hand as she comes up to the teacher's table. "Is he enjoying his graduation trip?"  

Chloe tips her head sweetly to the side. "What brother?" 

Fairy Godmother looks puzzled. "Your only brother, dear one. Unless your parents have adopted another without telling me?" 

"Oh, that brother. I haven't seen him since..." Chloe hesitates. "The incident." 

"I'm sorry?" 

Chloe beams. "The incident. It's a family matter, I'm really not supposed to talk about it. I'm sure he's fine, though. Mother isn't too worried about him." 

You could make a topographical map out of the folds in Fairy Godmother's forehead. "Yes, of course. I'm sure that must be hard on your mother, not having her son around." 

"She endures." Chloe says cheerfully. "I should really go get dinner before I hold up the line. I'll see you in class tomorrow. I've already got my Fairy History essay ready for you!" 

"That's lovely, yes." Fairy Godmother says, still frowning. "And Red, you've got all your books? Everything you need?' 

Red lifts her chin. She's not just a passive observer, even though whatever's going on with her royal roommate's missing brother sounds horrifically fascinating.  "I'm all set. Wonderland post sent my books last week." 

"Lovely, lovely. I'll see you two in class tomorrow." 

"Goodnight, Fairy Godmother." Chloe chirps, bobbing into a half-curtsy before she moves away. 

Red will not curtsy, but she dips her head in the vague shape of a bow. "Goodnight." 

+

"So." Red says, once the two of them are out of the dining hall and on their way back to the dorm room they're going to be sharing. "You've got a brother?" 

Chloe looks at her sideways, without moving her head. "No. I've got a Chad." 

There's a particular darkness in her voice at the name, like how Red wants to say Jabberwocky sometimes, when they've been especially bad. 

"I take it you're not a fan." Red says, because it's stupid to ask questions, but she's the princess of Wonderland, and she should know her neighboring kingdom's royal families. "Is he really awful?" 

"The worst." Chloe says lightly. "He's not at home right now, though, so we've all had a bit of a rest." 

All? 

"All." Red repeats. "How big is your family?" 

"Big enough." 

It's dumb to play evasive word games with a Wonderland girl. "Big enough to fill a carriage?" 

Chloe sighs. "Bigger." 

"Big enough to fill a limo?" 

"Bigger, if you're counting everyone." 

"I'm asking you to tell me about your family, Auradon girl," Red says, leaning in towards Chloe, making it a flirty request, rather than a desperate dig for information. "Aren't you guys supposed to love talking about yourself?" 

Chloe shoots her a certified look. "My family is weird. You don't need to know about them, it's just...my brother is off on a mission to find himself, or something. He graduated in the same class as King Ben, so people are still going to ask about him, because one weird girl who plays with swords for fun isn't enough for the royal gossip tabloids." 

"Swords." Red drawls. 'Very royal." 

Chloe huffs out a tight little breath. "Yes, swords. I'm on the ROAR team. Royal Order of Auradon Regiment. We practice running through obstacle courses with swords for fun, and I'm actually really good at it, so please, please don't make fun of me. I know I'm not a very proper princess, but I really do love it, and my mom doesn't care what I do so long as I don't mess up my face, so just-- just stop it. I'll tell you about my brother if you really want, just..." 

"Swords are cool." Red blurts, before she can think twice about it. "Your brother sounds like a lame-ass anyway. Tell me more about your sword game?" 

Stupid, stupid. Asking about her sports team? Super lame behavior. Not cool at all, Red. 

Chloe looks up at her through her lashes. "You're making fun of me again." 

Red's heart skips a little beat. She's not sure if it's from shame or the huge, embarrassing, terrible crush that she's trying really hard to squash. "I'm not. Promise." 

"It's okay that you are. Everyone does, once they hear about my hobbies," Chloe says softly. "I'm not cool like my brother, or popular like my sisters. I'm the youngest child in my family, so everyone babies me all the time anyway. I don't mind it usually." 

She's twisting her hands together, looking down at her fingers. She's not wearing any royal rings or anything. Red's been wearing rings since she was a kid, to show her status and to punch people better. She wouldn't know what to do with hands that are so soft and naked. Does she hold them? Give Chloe one of her own rings? Tell her she's an idiot for declining any symbols of her royal status and get her mother to give her at least a small family ring? 

"I'm not actually a very good princess." Chloe says after a moment. "I just let people tell me what to do all the time. I just follow the rules and practice with my sword and read a lot of books. I'm not brave like my mother. You're probably braver than me. Coming to a new country, a new school, all by yourself... that's really brave." 

"Thanks."

Chloe's eyes are enormous. "Yeah." she whispers, soft and sweet and so, so close to Red. "I think you're really brave." 

Red lifts a hand to touch her roommate's cheek. "Brave enough to hear the truth about your brother?" 

Chloe's face falls. 

Red's heart sinks right along with it. 

"No. You don't want the truth anyway, it's boring." Chloe says, turning around to unlock their door.  "Anyway, I'm sure everything is boring compared to Wonderland, so I won't make you listen to me any longer. Goodnight, Red." 

Their door shuts before she can come up with a comeback. 

Fine. If her roommate won't tell her what's going on, Red will just have to figure it out herself. 

+ 

The next person to ask about Chloe's alleged brother gets an even less helpful answer. 

"I lost him." Chole says sweetly. "At sea. We went out on the yacht to celebrate his graduation, you know, after the...incident." 

The student nods seriously. It would be stupid to roll her eyes, but Red's patience for these delays is short already, so she does it behind Chloe's back. Really subtly. 

Chloe bobs her head in a little nod that could almost be serious, if she didn't look so pleased about it. "Yeah, so we were out on the ocean, and he just fell overboard. We lost him. Mom threw him one of the inflatable life rafts, but you know how Chad is about accepting help, so once it hit the water he just started swimming away. At the rate he was going, he's probably in the Southern Isles by now." 

+

It happens again. 

"He's at home, helping mother weed the library. We have a curse, you know. Roses keep growing in the fiction section, and it takes all hands on desk to clear it out." Chloe says, flashing the girl a bright smile. "The only reason I'm exempt is because mother and father don't trust me not to solve the problem with my sword.” 

The girl frowns. “Chad, weeding?” 

“Oh, yes. He wouldn’t usually, but mother asked him specifically. He’s really a mother’s boy at heart. It’s sweet how much he’d do for her.” 

Red watches the girl digest this. 

“Aw. That is sweet.” 

Chloe beams. “Isn’t it? He’s just the best. I bet if you run to the library now you could understand just how he feels right now, surrounded by all those books.” 

+ 

And again. 

“He’s joined the astronaut training program.” Chloe says. Her face is set in a very serious expression, which is only fitting considering that she’s talking to the head of their math department. “We haven’t seen him in ages, but he’s supposed to be on the moon base soon, so every time we look up back home we wave to him. It’s a new Charmington family tradition.” 

“That’s very nice, dear.” 

“If you want to join the SpaceChad fan club you can go to the royal media page our sister set up,” Chloe says sweetly. “It’s online under SpaceCaseChad dot com. There’s lots of good pictures.” 

Their teacher pinches the bridge of her nose. “Very nice story, Chloe. I’m sorry I asked.” 

“Princess Celeste puts a lot of work into it.” 

“I’m sure she does. Now sit down so you can learn some theorems.” 

Red looks the page up. 

It’s full of press pictures of Chad Charming, the only Prince of the Kingdom of Charmington, heir apparent of the second biggest kingdom in all Auradon, poorly edited to look like he’s floating in space. 

And wearing cat ears. 

The animated sparkle in his eyes is a nice touch. Red appreciates the sort of effort that goes into these things. The effort that’s been put into adding a tiny rocket ship under his boots is less impressive, but the way that the rocket bursts into animated flames every fourth edit is much funnier than it seems the first time you scroll past it. 

She’s starting to think that her roommate might actually be on to something here. 

+ 

The fifth time it happens, Red's pretty sure she's in on the joke. 

Before Chloe can come up with another smartmouth answer, Red gasps. The student who asked this time is some girl in a cheerleader uniform, and she looks like an easy target, so Red throws her whole body into it. Mouth open, eyes wide, and a gasp so theatrical even her mother would be proud of it. 

"You can't just ask that!" Red gasps, sweeping an arm around Chloe's shoulders. "Oh my gods, why would you even ask when it's still so fresh?" 

The cheerleader gapes. "I— what—?” 

"You don't just ask a royal family member what happened to her only brother," Red snaps. "It's not done. My mother could have your head for it. Chloe, are you okay?" 

Her roommate is shaking in her arms. Red's never tried to be a good person, but there's a feeling building in her that might be what goodness feels like. It's sort of like when she drinks the special unbirthday tea that she’s not supposed to touch, and a little bit like when she's in on a secret with her mom. Giddy, that's the feeling. 

The cheerleader's hands are on her cheeks now. "I didn't mean any harm, I'm sorry. Oh my god, Chloe, I'm so sorry. Is he okay?" 

Chloe's face is buried wholly and completely in Red's shoulder, and she's a warm, comfortable, shaking weight that's making it hard for her to think straight.  There's so many horrible things that can happen to a prince, and only so many ways to say it... 

"She doesn't know." Red says, pulling Chloe in a little tighter so her giggles can't spoil the illusion. "The last thing she knew he was visiting friends in Fairyland, and then he started sending letters written on leaves instead of paper, and now..." she hesitates. 

"Now?" 

"He just sends the leaves." Red finishes. 

The cheerleader gasps. “I bet there's pollen all over his beautiful hair too!" 

Seriously? 

"We can only assume." Red says, face just as solemn as her mother's court isn't. "It's a real shame. The fairies want a princess on a milk-white horse to get him back, and she's got to ride in on the darkest night of the year too. Holding the moon in a jar as her guide." 

The girl looks about five seconds from whipping out her phone to write the lies down. "A real princess? Or would like, a pop princess work instead? Chad always said how much he loved Marcielle Lance. I bet he'd love me forever if I sent... I mean, if somebody tipped her off that the Prince of Charmington needed her to save him from Fairyland." 

"The letters didn't say." Red shrugs. "But it never hurts to try, I guess." 

The cheerleader is practically vibrating. "I've got to go make a— I mean, get to class! Thanks, though!" 

Red lifts a hand to her retreating back. "Buh-bye.” 

+ 

Time travel vertigo is a pain in the butt to recover from. 

Red falls into Chloe as soon as the world stops reshaping itself around them. 

Chloe shoves her off. “Where are we?” 

“More like when are we.” Red corrects, staggering upright. “And I think the answer is not far enough. Look, that roof looks exactly like it does now.” 

“It’s a roof.” 

“Yeah, and all the fancy pants brochures that you sent to Wonderland while we were sealed off from the rest of the world show that roof looking different than it does now. In our current time. Because it’s new, princess. We got brochures about replacing it.” 

Chloe closes her eyes. Red can see her breathing slowly, and stifles a grin. Her roommates hates being wrong, which works out great, because Red loves seeing her royal highness mad. 

“We can’t be here. We have to leave, now.” 

“We just got here. The watch has a cooldown time of one minute for every year travelled. We can’t leave yet.” 

“No, we have to leave.” Chloe grabs Red’s hand. “My bother is here. This is two years ago. He’s going to be here, on campus, and he’s going to recognize me, and our whole cover is going to be blown if we alter time in ways we weren’t expecting!” 

Oh, no.

“No,” Red says slowly, stretching out her words around the grin that’s threatening to take over her whole face. “No, I don’t think we do have to leave. After all the stories I’ve heard about this brother, I wanna meet this guy.” 

“You don’t.” 

“He’s an Olympic level swimmer, an astronaut, a curse-breaking mommy’s boy, and he was interesting enough to get kidnapped by fairies? I can’t wait to meet him.” 

Chloe stomps her foot. “You know that’s not true. I make all that stuff up, because—“ 

“Because why, princess?” 

“Because the real reason is boring.” 

Red glances down at the pocketwatch. One minute left until they can leave. “After growing up in wonderland, you think I don’t like boring? My mother is trying to stage a coup as we speak. She raised me on a diet of all-excitement, all the time. I want boring. I love boring. Please, for the love of time, give me something boring to think about until we can get out of here.” 

Chloe glares. “No.” 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not telling you. The longer we stand here arguing the closer we are to getting out of here. I don’t have to tell you, I just have to stall until we’re out of time.” 

“Bold words from the girl who’s not carrying the time machine.” 

“You want to get out of here just as much as I do,” Chloe says, logically. Oh, how much Red wants to hate her. “You’re not going to leave us here, in the wrong time, just because you want to know where my brother’s hiding.” 

Red leans in. “Hiding, huh?” 

“You—“ Chloe slaps a hand over her own mouth. “I’m not saying another word. We can’t alter time before we’re supposed to, it’s too risky.” 

“Twenty seconds. Tick tock, princess. I could leave you here if you won’t tell me.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know what I’d do.” Red hisses, leaning in so close that she can see the way Chloe’s eyes are tracking the motion of the pocketwatch. Her roommate’s eyes are pretty. It’s not fair that she’s got such an awful habit of keeping secrets to offset her pretty face. 

“I’ll tell you,” Chloe offers. “But only once we turn the watch.” 

“Deal.” 

“Now.” 

Red cranks the watch, but carefully this time, so that her fingers don’t slip before they’re ready and send them another two or three years back. 

“You’re sure you want to know?” 

The watch is hot in her hand. The dial is shivering under her fingers. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

Chloe throws an arm around her waist, and grabs the watch out of her hand. “He shaved his head and got too embarrassed to show his face in public!” 

[arandomdai]

A Random Thought 🤔💭

THIS IS JUST AN OPINION. I JUST SAY WHAT'S ON MY MIND ABOUT THE BOOK AND SHOWCASE SOME IDEAS THAT I HAVE.

P.S.: You can ask me anything 😊

Let me start of by saying...

I don't like how Zeus is the only one who is blamed for why the marriage is basically over, when Hera is (dare I say) equally at fault. This book continues to gaslight the audience about who should be held accountable and who deserves all the hate. Let's be clear on one thing, Zeus has abused his power, is a cheater, does lie, etc. but where is all the smoke for the other characters that has done the same or similar. But let's refresh everybody's memory why he started treating women disrespectfully...

⚠️WARNING: WHAT YOUR ABOUT TO READ OR SEE CAN BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME AUDIENCES!!!⚠️

•Metis: The Start Of His Addiction

So let's hypothetically say that the brothers are 3 years apart from age

Hades was 19

Poseidon was 15/16

Zeus WAS PROBABLY 13 OR 14 WHEN THIS HAPPENED TOO

I think he was not just mentally scarred from the war and seeing his mother (who he didn't know about until later)going into hibernation, but also scarred that he learned about "hit and quit it" at a very young vulnerable age. Not only that he probably learned "until everything cools down" from her too. Atp, I'm going to need this book banned or something because it just doesn't make sense to me how this book is supposed to support all victims, until it's Zeus. Zeus is a victim. No matter how many times people and RS tries to make him this evil guy. But like I said before, he has done so many wrongs, which he is trying to right. But I find it interesting that Metis is not called out for having sex with a minor. Zeus and Hera are around the same age which means back then they weren't able to consent. And yet Hera is the only victim smh. Zeus is now a sex addict and doesn't know where to start. WHEN YOU SAY YOU FEEL SORRY FOR ALL VICTIMS, MAKE SURE YOU INCLUDE THE MEN THAT ARE TOO. DON'T PICK AND CHOOSE WHO TO FEEL SORRY FOR. I hate that this book gaslights people into thinking that everything is okay when it's being pro patriarchy.

• The Marriage: Both Sides Are At Fault

We all know Zeus is very unfaithful, but he shows so much of his guilt his own way. But (I ask again) where's all this smoke for Hera and Hades. Hera is married and has been seeing her Blu brother-in-law behind his back for centuries. Yet, I don't see any ounce of guilt from her or Hades. Hera is a victim don't get me wrong, but so is Zeus. TWO WRONGS DON'T MAKE A RIGHT. And for blue gru to judge Zeus for everything while you were sleeping with his wife is vile. The fact Hera or Hades never asked him why he continues cheating or be honest with him about their affair is right down dirty. Oh but it doesn't stop there...

Look at these pictures...

See how Zeus tries his best to care for Hera and even admits that he thinks he was the worst thing that ever happened to her. While Hera just says "You made it hard for me, but I love you. Bye". She says she loves him, but I don't think she does. I think there was a time that she did love him, but I think they got bored of each other (from Zeus's perspective). I feel like Hera wanted the crown (power) more than the King. She treats being a queen like it's a trophy. So she basically blocked Demeter from being queen all just to not be satisfied later (which I'm glad Demeter dodged a bullet). Not only is Hera cruel, but she is just insufferable. She treats everyone like crap and expects everyone to be nice to her including Zeus. He fights tooth and nail to do right by her or win her back, but she doesn't see him trying to be a better husband nor do the same. She doesn't even try to make it a safe place for him to talk to her and be honest. When he wakes up, that divorce paper needs to be signed with the quickness because they're both miserable, they're both want there freedom, and they're not happy.

• My Final Thoughts

Zeus's life is basically 16 CARRIAGES by Beyoncé. He was minding his business at Lake Dikte just a village boy helping nymphs, until Rhea came. Rhea told a early teen Zeus that he has to help his brothers and stop his tyrant father from destroying the world. After everything, he was mentally scarred at the age of 14. I know this is wishful thinking, but I think if he went to lake Dikte (after he wakes up), I think he would be more at peace again. He deserved better. And for this book to have so many contradictions throughout makes this book hypocritical and morally corrupt. You can see the stark difference between teen Zeus and the Zeus we see now. When looking at the picture on right, you see his bags showing more verses the left one when he was younger. This shows you how tired, hardworking, and mentally drained he is.

[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy). 

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement. 

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,”  you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop. 

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?” 

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?” 

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.” 

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on. 

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look. 

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.” 

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something. 

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?” 

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag. 

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly. 

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck. 

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough. 

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.” 

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook. 

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.” 

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least. 

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.” 

He just stares at you. 

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-” 

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.” 

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.” 

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.” 

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you. 

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.” 

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.  

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

[urlocalrambler]

DN thoughts: Alex Palmer.

My views on Alex are probably not as interesting or as spirited as some other people's viewpoints. However, as someone who was thoroughly apathetic to her storyline, I think the DN fandom is skewed on a double-ended spectrum of either hating on Alex like a devil incarnate, or revering her like a goddess. I find this difference very fascinating as someone just peering in as a casual observer of her character.

Ultimately, I think the problem with Alex is that often, in typical dark romance series spanning over several couples like Devils Night, you'd expect Alex to get her own book and to end up with a horsemen. This is what many fans expected of Alex. She was Rika's best friend, the only other woman we were allowed to care about and be invested in through the duration of Corrupt and I guess, beyond it too, so fans were invested in her. Unlike the other girls, Alex was never villainised by the horsemen at any point, she was accepted into the fold and that made her interesting because she was untouched by the brush that tainted all the other female main characters. Alex was put on a pedestal and was the 'all-around badass' of the series.

If this was any other dark romance book, the next tale in line would've been for Alex after Corrupt.

Add in the fact that there was also A LOT of Will / Alex shoved into the books prior to Nightfall... Well, it probably fed into this assumption regarding Alex. Nightfall and Conclave only made it worse as they both put forward the idea of a love triangle of Alex / Will / Emory. It probably felt natural for some fans to be pre-disposed to supporting and excusing all of Alex's actions because we met her first, Alex was portrayed as Will's partner in crime, so it maybe felt natural to ship AlexWill over WillEmmy. Personally, I was never a fan of Alex (and I also wasn't much of a fan of Will) but I can see why Pen subverting expectations and pursuing WillEmmy as endgame from the very start might've surprised people. After all, Alex was pushed into the spotlight so much in the other books. She was given so many scenes with Will, and she even ended up invading the storyline of Nightfall and was positioned as Will's other choice who stuck with him at his worst... So even if she was shitty to Emory, it's very easily swept under the rug.

Alex was cool girl. Alex was the one who stood by Will. Alex supported Rika as her ride or die. Alex could do no wrong... Alex was honestly a very hollow character.

I think, within DN, Alex was the only character who felt the most like caricature to me. She was the very embodiment of the 'female lead's best friend' trope. Pen tried to get her out of that mould, but it didn't really work because they weren't willing to let Alex's character fail or stumble or be anything other than well-liked and universally adored.

In my opinion, this glazing is because Alex's character is supposed to be proof that the books aren't misogynistic or self-insert wish fulfilment – Alex is a neon sign that says 'look! this book doesn't shit on all women that aren't named Rika. It really doesn't. Look, we have a sex worker bff character who everyone loves too. This isn't just Rika's world. See, see, look at Alex!' But well, the problem is that the world is still very clearly Rika's to own and we are only really allowed to like Alex because she bows down to Rika and will never be perceived as better than her.

Then, as the series progresses, Alex evolves into the fairy godmother role of being the cool girl who gets the other girls outside of their square box by ?? talking up sex a lot ?? Personally, I found it weird. I strongly disliked Alex's scenes in Hideaway, I didn't understand why she had to come onto Banks, I kinda got Rika / Alex in corrupt because that was about Rika showing Michael that she could do exactly what he does even if I did found it kinda cringe. But Banks / Alex, I didn't see any value in it– all of Alex's scenes in Hideaway were just done for the purpose of shoving her in as that fairy godmother, sexually-charged bff role again. Same with Nightfall, I found the Emory / Alex sex scene to be useless rather than them reclaiming power, reconciling, getting square with each other, or whatever the hell it was supposed to mean.

Personally, I think the problem with Alex is that she is a trope rather than a fully-formed character. In some instances, she even felt more like a plot device. To improve her character, Alex should've been given her own book rather than glomming her into Nightfall's storyline. Or she should've just stayed in her trope-y role of Rika's BFF.

Keep in mind. This is just MY interpretation of the character. I neither like nor dislike her. Y'all feel to love or hate her as you wish.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Fourteen: An Argument/Making up after--@rowaelinscourt

Link back to the Month Masterlist

No idea what this is, but I really wanted to write for this prompt…and this happened…and I don’t know how I feel about it, I kinda hate it. so forgive me for the mess.  Pretty sure it’s the worst thing i’ve ever written. werewolf novel included.

warnings: angsty, hurt/comfort ~2.8k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

fall together

The apartment was quiet as Aelin paced up and down the hallway between the bedroom and kitchen.  The golden light of dusk cast long shadows through the apartment, stretching over the couch and the coffee table.  Over the past hour the light had only grown longer and longer as it slowly shifted into night.

Normally she would be curled up on the couch with a book in hand.  Rowan would be seated beside her, computer in hand while he finished up reports.  They wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t need to, they were both just content to be in each other’s presence.

And then last night happened.

And Aelin’s entire world shifted.

She turned and headed back down the darkened hall to her room.  She hadn’t bothered to move the curtains of turn on the lights.  For no other reason than she just didn’t see the point. Everything was spotless after a morning of cleaning so there was nothing to trip over.  Just a pile of Rowan’s things she’d put together in a fit of rage.  She couldn’t quite bring herself to put it in a box.  Not that she wanted to, but as a just in case this couldn’t be fixed.  But everything could be fixed, right? 

In any case, this side of the apartment was dark, reminding her that she was alone.

Her stomach pitched violently and she stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet.  She emptied what little was in her stomach before leaning back against the tub and flushing.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  This wasn’t how she thought any of it would go.  Her job.  Her relationships.  Life.

All of it had taken a nosedive into a concrete slab.

Groaning as another wave of nausea washed over her, Aelin shifted to lean over the toilet.  She didn’t know whether to be relieved when nothing came up or not.  She’d used her last bit of energy in her pacing and now couldn’t bring herself to get back up.  That was supposedly alright, it wasn’t like she had an appetite or anything else to do.

From the kitchen, she heard her phone buzz with an incoming call.  Aelin let it ring, not wanting to try and stand.  She’d get a second wind eventually.  But she had an idea of who was calling and she didn’t want to talk to them.  Not after last night.

Because last night…last night…it was supposed to be a good night of celebration and excitement.  Instead, it had turned into a fit of yelling and blame.  Maybe she shouldn’t have pinned all her hopes on everything going perfectly but she’d at least thought…

Her phone went off again.

“We can do this,” she muttered before slowly easing to her knees and then her feet.  

She rinsed her mouth out with water and then splashed her face for good measure.  The cool water felt good and helped revitalize her just a bit.

After a few deep breaths, Aelin met her own gaze through the mirror.  She looked terrible.  Her cheeks were splotchy, hair a tangled braid, and she hadn’t washed her make-up off very well.  She should just go to bed.  Go to bed and maybe this would just turn into a bad dream.

She’d just managed to convince herself to walk the few feet to her bed when someone pounded at her front door.  Aelin looked up to the ceiling praying for strength.  She really, really, wanted to ignore what was waiting for her but realistically knew that she had to face this.

“We can do this,” she said again.

She put on a mask of confidence, or as near as she could in the situation, and shuffled to her door and undid the bolt.  With a leveling breath, she opened the door and stared at her boyfriend.  Ex-boyfriend?  She wasn’t sure what they were at the moment.  Either way she was pissed at him.

“Aelin,” Rowan said.  He stood just a little ways back from the door and looked just as bad as she felt.  Good he deserved it. “I tried calling.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t answer,” she replied.  

“Can we talk?” he asked.  He wore jeans and a t-shirt, nondescript.  He held a paper bag in one hand.

“I think enough was said last night,” she said.  Her heart was beating too fast and she was sure that if she wasn’t clinging to the door she would start shaking.

Rowan flinched at her words.  He looked down, causing his hair to fall in his eyes.  It looked messy and unkempt in the way it flopped around.  Aelin tried not to get a sense of satisfaction at the bit of pain she caused.  Really, she did, but after what he’d said she couldn’t stop her chin from lifting.

“Please, Fireheart?” his voice was soft as he spoke.

Her hard resolve faltered and Aelin sighed.  She stepped aside and let him in.

She could have sworn she heard a thank Mala whispered.  

Rowan slipped past as she locked the door behind him.  He stood in the middle of the room, as if unsure where to go.  Just a few days ago he would have made himself at home.  He would have made sure she’d gone to the store like she said she did and got a decent supply of vegetables.  Or he would have fallen onto the couch, pulling her with him so they could relax the entire night.

Aelin went to the kitchen table with its mismatched chairs and the stained wood.  It had been the first thing she’d bought when she moved into the apartment and she had a special connection to it even five years later.  She took a seat, figuring this was a conversation better had sitting down.  And she still felt like crap.

Rowan remained standing, only setting down the paper bag on one of the other open chairs.  He froze when he saw the small item sitting center stage.  Aelin had left it there after the mess of last night, unable to bring herself to do anything about it.  Besides, it felt like she was supposed to keep it, for memory’s sake or whatever.  But Aelin had never been someone who held onto memories.  Her childhood and young adult years had been miserable enough that she wanted to move on.

But she’d held onto that pregnancy test like it was a million dollars, like it would solve all of her problems.

Instead, it just caused them.

“How are you feeling?” Rowan finally asked.  He leaned against the chair next to her, arms outstretched and elbows locked.

“Fine,” she lied.  What else was there to say?

What the hell are we supposed to do? 

I don’t understand.

Are you sure?

How can we raise a baby?

They weren’t terribly young, he being twenty-six and she twenty-three, plenty of people had babies at their age, younger in some cases.  Though, Aelin would admit this wasn’t what she’d had in mind for her life, what she’d wanted to have happen.  But now that it was going to be her reality, she’d decided she would fight for it.  Even if she had to do it on her own.

“You’re lying,” Rowan said, quietly.

She could feel his eyes on her, but Aelin wouldn’t look. “Are you surprised?  Why would I tell you the truth after last night?”

Let’s just talk about this.

I can’t do this right now.

A slamming door.  

Panic.

Rowan exhaled long and slow before he pushed away from the chair so he could begin pacing the kitchen, similar to what Aelin was doing earlier, but he didn’t rove all the way down to the bedroom and instead kept to the kitchen and living room.  Like her, Rowan appeared to be a mess of anxiety as he kept moving.  The only other time Aelin had seen him like this was while he was waiting for his acceptance letter into his graduate program at the university.

A part of her knew that she shouldn’t blame him for being scared or worried.  She was too.  She knew that he would need time with this, she did too.  But after everything they’d been through together—years of hating and pinning and learning and growing together—she’d hoped they could at least keep their heads on straight.

Even if they were just kids, even now.

Rowan came to a stop beside her chair and laid a hand on her shoulder before slowly moving it up to cup her cheek.  Aelin didn’t let him tilt her chin up.  She didn’t want to react to him at all, but it was still Rowan.  And she still loved him.  Her skin prickled with gooseflesh and she felt a surge of tears rush unbidden to her eyes.

“Hey,” Rowan said, “will you look at me please?”

Exhaling slowly, Aelin raised her gaze to his.  His green eyes were guarded and his features drawn sharp as though he were trying to hold something back.  He searched her face, looking for something in her as she was in him.  Whatever he found must have affected him because he crouched down beside her, dropping his hands to her lap, braced against her thighs.

He didn’t pressure her and Aelin knew she could push him back and he would go, but having him close and feeling his warmth against her skin was all she’d wanted that day and she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered as he flattened his palms against her legs.  She wore a thin pair of leggings and swore she could feel his callouses through the fabric. “I’m sorry for how I responded yesterday and for leaving.  I shouldn’t have done any of that.”

Aelin looked away, back toward the counter where there was a pile of dishes in the drying rack that she hadn’t touched in two days now.  One of her library books was turned upside down after she’d abandoned the miserable attempt of reading.  A dirty rag was wadded up behind the sink because of a leak.

She was a mess, she decided.

“Aelin,” Rowan said, drawing her attention back again.  He ran one hand over her knee in that soothing way he knew she liked. “I know I hurt you with how I reacted and I should have made sure you were okay.”

He let a brief flash of emotion flicker across his face--panic, worry--as he leaned into her just a little bit.  When he didn’t say anything else, Aelin drew in a breath, unable to hide the slight hitch.

She’d been on the verge of crying all day and had managed to stave it off.  Of course it was now, with Rowan beside her that she felt the floodgates start to give way.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ro,” she whispered.  Blinking rapidly, she shook her head as she tried to bring herself back to equilibrium.  She dropped a hand to her stomach, flat as it still was, and looked at him. “And I’m terrified.”

Rowan reached out and took one of her hands in his, gripping tightly. “What can I do for you, Fireheart?  Do you want—”

“I want to keep it,” she said, immediately, surprising herself with how fervently she spoke.  But the words felt right as soon as she said them. “I want this.”

Rowan nodded once before he stood. “Then we can do this.”

“I’m not going to force you into this,” Aelin said. “Last night—”

“Last night I was a bastard,” he cut her off, “and I was scared too.  But we should have been scared together.  Because at least then--then I would have known it would be alright instead of wandering around like an idiot.”

He started pacing again along with his rambling and Aelin had no idea where he was going with it.  She had tears in her eyes and her heart was still beating out a worry signal, ready to take flight if needed.

Turning back to her, Rowan wet his lips. “You’ve always been my strength, Aelin.” His eyes flashed then with something more than the cold persona he always wore. “And I’ll make this up to you.”

She wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant what he said.  And maybe to an extent she did—it was after all Rowan.  Her Rowan, who up until last night, had always been there for her.  And she knew last night had been a shock and overwhelming—but she had needed him then.

Aelin told him as much. “I don’t want to do this alone, Rowan.  I always thought—I always wanted to do this with you.  But if you don’t want this—”

He was back kneeling at her side in an instant.  One hand cupped her face as the other remained at his side.

“I’ll be here,” he promised, “every step of the way.  I’m still terrified, Aelin, but I won’t leave.  I love you.” 

A tear finally tracked down Aelin’s cheek and she sniffled. “I love you too.”

Rowan wiped the tear away, leaning in to kiss her, softly.  He didn’t push her boundaries or linger very long.  But Aelin still relished in the contact and feel of him.  She’d always been so attuned to his touch, reacting to every little thing, that, even with her lingering anger, she didn’t quite want to let him go.  But Rowan did eventually pull back, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked as he brushed a few loose tendrils of hair from her face.

Aelin sighed, looking away guiltily. “I’m a little hungry.”

“I can fix that.” Rowan launched to his feet and went to the paper bag he’d brought.  Immediately he began pulling out jars of pickles, cartons of strawberries, Nutella, and even a pint of ice cream that he took the to the fridge before it thawed anymore.

“What did you do?” Aelin asked staring at all the items, reaching for the pickles.

“I may have called Sellene,” he admitted.  He took the pickle jar even at her protests and opened it. “She yelled at me before telling me to buy these specific things.”

Aelin rolled her eyes.  Rowan’s cousin, one of his only living relatives, had always had been one of her favorite people.

“I see,” she said, drawing a pickle out to eat. 

“She said she’ll help you beat my ass if ever needed,” Rowan added as though that were the most important bit of information. “She also wants to come by sometime soon for a visit.”

A smile, a real smile, took over Aelin’s face.  She’d like to see Sellene, the woman was a few years older than them with a family of her own.  After Rowan’s parents passed, he was raised with Sellene and her brother.  The three had become thick as thieves and Aelin had decided long ago, she wouldn’t mind calling them family.

Rowan busied himself washing the strawberries and putting the other items away.  He left the pickles out for Aelin to continue to munch on as he insisted on making her a real dinner.

Aelin only smiled and let him work.  She knew he still felt guilty about the way he’d acted and for the things he said.  He often showed his love through action and silent deeds, though he wouldn’t say no when Aelin pulled him into a hug and wouldn’t let him go.  Now, as he puttered around the kitchen and drew out what few veggies, she had available, he made small promises and assurances that everything would work out, that they would be alright.

Aelin stood and went to his side.  She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.  He was well over six feet tall and practically dwarfed her.

“Fireheart?” Rowan set down the cutting board he found and turned in her arms, hands settling on her waist.

Aelin looked up at him, seeing the worry in his eyes.  It was worry for her, worry that his words or apology wouldn’t be accepted.

“Do you promise?” she asked.  He frowned at her words. “Do you promise we’ll be alright?”

His hands tightened as he leaned in closer. “I promise.  To whatever end.”

“To whatever end,” she echoed.

Aelin might not have known exactly what the future would hold, but she would race toward it with Rowan by her side and she knew that would be enough.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

reblogs and comments appreciated <3 thanks for reading, im not trusting the tagging system still

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 6

Thank you @acise and @nireu-art for creating such cool art for this chapter! You can find and reblog their pieces from here and here, respectively :D

Now, where did we leave off? Oh right, Marinette is trapped in the catacombs by Adrien's corpse. How quaint : )

Happy reading!

A skeleton was collapsed by the tunnel just to the right of the one she’d emerged from, and there was an old leather journal a half a meter from its outstretched hand.

Marinette trembled; she knew that this was definitely not part of the tunnel system on the tour. No, no one was supposed to come here at all, and the last person who did…

To keep her wobbly knees distracted from giving out, Marinette stepped over to the book and picked it up, brushing a layer of dust off its cover and squinting at the title in the low light.

There was nothing on the front cover, or on the spine. She cracked it open, gingerly, just like she always did at the library.

The Tenth Journal of Adrien Agreste, she read, and then she did collapse, falling to the floor and landing hard on her kneecaps. 

“Oh, come on,” she moaned, clutching the book’s pages tightly as her gaze darted towards, and then very quickly away from, the skeleton next to her.

This was possibly the worst-case scenario for this trip. Zombies would be the real worst case, but they were only attracted to Mages, and Marinette was not a Mage. So at least she would die in peace, surrounded by abandoned tunnels and right beside her favorite author, instead of running for her life from humanoid shapes made of darkness.

Her breath shuddered through her mouth as her entire body twitched erratically. Marinette closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, trying to listen for the murmurs of her group, for anything, really, to keep herself calm and give her even just a fool’s hope.

There was nothing.

She opened her eyes as a tear escaped from them.

I’m so sorry, Alya. I should have listened to you.

Marinette wasn’t sure how long she sat there, listlessly thumbing the book’s fragile pages, not caring whether they chipped or crumbled into dust. Eventually, the feeling of her phone in her back pocket made her uncomfortable enough that she shifted her position. She pulled it out of her pocket and sat criss-crossed as she turned the screen on and stared at the time.

20:14. The tour was supposed to be over by now.

Marinette frowned. Couldn’t she get just one bar of service? Enough to send a call through to the surface and get help? It felt cruel that she was so awake and alive, capable of walking through the tunnels, if not navigating them, of walking up 112 stairs and going back to the surface like any other visitor today, yet even though she was perfectly healthy, in a few days she’d be dead.

Days. It would be a slow, painful death, all alone except for a skeleton and her thoughts, which were already turning against her.

She also had a book, one written by a dead man, but what else was new.

Marinette set her phone on her lap and opened the journal up again, giving the title page another glance. She hadn’t known that there was a tenth journal; Alya hadn’t talked about it, and while Adrien had mentioned a book of spells in his ninth journal, she’d thought he was talking about one of the other books he’d written, and that he’d forgotten to take it with him on his final journey.

Apparently not. The book she was holding was labeled “Book of Spells (III)” in Adrien’s handwriting, so he had taken it with him, after all. Now, it would serve as Marinette’s only entertainment while she figured out whether to venture out in the dark beyond the concourse and get even more lost or stay here, where not even the Mages had managed to venture before.

Marinette flipped to a random page in the middle of the book. It was blank, so she flipped backward to just a few pages after the beginning of the journal and started to read, silently at first, but the quiet began to make her nervous after a while, so she read aloud.

“A spell of Tikki’s Mages.” Marinette was glad Alya had taught her the Mages’ code, so that she could understand the journal. Without it, she had a feeling that she would just go insane. “Being a spell to conjure an illness, that once it has infected the individual, will spread until he or she dies… nope. Okay, A spell of Plagg’s Mages, being a spell to conquer spreading illnesses.” She paused for a moment and snorted.

Plagg and Tikki were two paired kwamis, she remembered. They were practically soulmates, and apparently, the spells of one’s Mages would cancel the spell’s of the other’s. Wasn’t that funny? Apart, they were so powerful, but together, they were practically useless!

Marinette laughed until she gave herself a case of the hiccups, because everything was funnier when you were trapped and doomed to die in the exact same way as the person you’d promised not to go looking for, in the exact same room that they’d died in, from which their dead body was never recovered.

Okay, Marinette thought as her giggles abruptly sputtered out, that’s not very funny after all.

She returned her wandering attention back to the book. “A spell of Plagg… to place a most powerful and eternal curse,” she read, skimming through the introduction. “Well, that’s not very cheery. Tikki, what’ve you got? A spell to undo the strongest curse. Nice.”

As she began to read, she stretched her legs out in front of her, trying to stop her left foot from falling asleep. She tapped it against the ground a few times while she slowly made her way through the long spell, but that didn’t work. Annoyed, she broke the spell off and stood up, pacing around the concourse as pins and needles jabbed themselves into her foot.

“Now this is a curse,” she muttered. “Can’t a girl die in peace without her own body attacking her?”

She sighed and came to a stop by the corner where the light was coming from and noticed for the first time that there wasn’t a lamp there. There had been one in every other corner of the tunnels, at least the ones in the actual tour, but here there was no sign of a standard light source, only a pale, greenish ray extending from the limestone.

Marinette marched back over towards Adrien’s skeleton and let out a huff. She was not going to give in to fear now! The light was maybe just a remnant of one of Adrien’s spells. Maybe he’d gone off the path on purpose and lit some magic lamps as he went, to see where he was going. Maybe he’d forgotten to put a time limit on those spells, and accidentally led her astray with them and trapped her in here with him to die!

Marinette scowled at the pale bones jutting out from Adrien’s decomposing 19th century attire but reminded herself that it wasn’t his fault. He’d gotten attacked by a zombie or something, and hadn’t been able to save himself, and lost the chance to turn off the magic lights himself. Now they were just a danger to whoever managed the weird combination of turns Marinette had taken to get stuck here.

She had no one to blame but herself.

“A spell to undo the strongest curse,” she began again. “Tikki, spirit of creation, guide my thoughts and grant me luck. From dawn to dusk, and dusk to dawn; from sea to land and land to sea, creation, hear my desperate plea. What’s good is bad, and bad is good; what’s right is wrong, and wrong is right, but let the curse now come to light. Reflect the evil that’s around, and let goodness within abound, this wretched evil lift. Embrace what mortal man can’t touch, for all the world can’t cover up the monstrous half-known Gift. Mistake or madness, be undone; the endless battle shall be won when mercy’s light is in me found. For but a wish can now surpass the long reach of this Mage’s grasp, so let my spell fulfill its task. Only this do I now ask, a lucky charm for this poor lass, a miracle to me.”

There was a sudden burst of light from beside Marinette, white and hot, spreading out from Adrien’s skeleton in a ball-shaped form. Marinette closed her eyes against it, but she could feel its power even through her eyelids, and she felt a spike of fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wondered whether Adrien’s spirit had heard her and taken offense at her reading of the spell which he had written. She clutched the book to her chest as the light receded and stood rigidly as she waited for something else to happen.

What if just reading a spell attracts zombies, even when you’re not magic? she wondered. What if they got mad and decided to turn Adrien into a zombie and now they'll all be coming to kill me?

That option sounded more realistic than Adrien coming back from the dead to chide her for reading his journal and didn’t do any good for Marinette’s nerves.

Just as suddenly as it had come, the light vanished. Marinette peeked one eye open, and not even the green light was still glowing. But slowly, the paler light returned, this time from a different corner. It made her more afraid, and she squeezed her eyes shut again in anticipation of what was to come.

A whimper escaped her mouth just as a groan arose from the ground at her feet.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped at what she saw.

Adrien Agreste’s skeleton was not just a skeleton anymore. He had flash, and bones, and skin, and hair even, and he was moving, oh fuck, he was moving! He was reaching out his hand, he was getting closer, he was almost touching her!

Marinette screamed.

Adrien looked up at her. Instead of darkness or a bloodshot, wrathful gaze like she was expecting, his eyes were green, and warm, and very confused.

He opened his mouth, but looked surprised, and turned away to cough into his elbow. Then he pushed himself up to a crouch, and very slowly stood up, swaying on his feet as he looked back at Marinette.

He was unfairly handsome for a guy centuries older than her. He was unreasonably handsome, actually; he was supposed to be just a skeleton! He had just been a skeleton only minutes ago! Seconds, even!

As she stared at the full-on suit Adrien now seemed to be wearing, Marinette decided that he didn’t really seem all that murderous. He didn’t seem like he was possessed by evil zombies. He didn’t even seem like he was going to lecture her for stealing a dead man’s book and reading it out loud beside his helpless, dusty body. 

Actually, maybe Adrien was just a near-death hallucination. She’d heard that those were common.

Maybe she should say something to him, because hallucination or not, this was getting awkward, and there was only so long she could keep staring into his gorgeous green eyes while keeping her cool.

“Good evening. You’re Adrien Agreste, right?”

Adrien blinked, and his brow furrowed adora— no. Not adorably. Not remotely cute at all!

Marinette cleared her throat and tried again in English. “Hello?”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?” he asked in French. 

Marinette had been trying for a response of some kind, but when it came, she found that she was so startled all she could do was take a step backwards.

His voice sounds surprisingly good for someone who’s just been reanimated, she thought, and furiously scolded herself for thinking that.

Adrien blushed. “I recognized the first thing you said, mademoiselle, but I was unable to speak just then. I apologize. What language is ‘hello?’”

Marinette blinked several times in quick succession and decided to focus on the least crazy thing. “Hello? Like, bonjour , but in English? You don’t know that word?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m afraid not, mademoiselle. I also fail to recognize the style of clothing that you’re wearing. Please, could you tell me how long it’s been since I entered the catacombs?”

Marinette coughed. “Too long for me to believe any of this is real, honestly.”

Adrien shrugged. “That’s fair enough; it’s only rarely that a Mage as powerful as you is born, so it wouldn’t surprise me if a few centuries have passed. I wasn’t expecting to be resurrected at all,” he admitted with the air of a man who had watched the sun set and was extremely (but pleasantly) surprised that it had risen again the next day.

Marinette felt the need to correct him. “I’m not a Mage,” she said. “I’m just a normal girl. I got trapped in here maybe half an hour to two hours ago; it’s been a while since I checked my phone. I think I dropped it when you woke up. You scared me, you know! It’s not every day you get a near-death hallucination, and I wasn’t expecting mine to come for a while— maybe the air quality is worse down here than I thought.”

Adrien let out a long sigh. “It seems that language has changed a lot since I was last alive,” he said. “You have a device on you that tells the time, but you dropped it? Is that right?”

Marinette nodded.

Adrien took a step back and bent down. When he straightened, he was holding her phone in his hand. 

“I’m very sorry; I stepped on it by accident. Will it still work like this?” he asked, offering it to her.

Marinette took it from him, and her stomach flipped. This hallucination had been going on for a while, and she was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t one, after all.

“It’s still good. And it’s only been an hour.”

Adrien nodded and smiled, looking rather confused by the phone and its screen, though he didn’t say anything about it.

“Only an hour, that’s good for you! As for me, could you tell me what year we are in, please?”

Marinette slid her phone back in her pocket, slowly, as her hand trembled. “2023, if I remember correctly. I could be wrong.”

Adrien closed his eyes, and the muscles in his face twitched. “It has been longer than I thought, then. I’m sure I will have trouble adjusting to the new millennium, but I must thank you that I even have the opportunity to do so. Now, let’s return to what you said earlier. If you are not a Mage, then how was I resurrected?”

Marinette frowned. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what’s going on, and I haven’t since I got lost and accidentally left the main tunnels. If this goes on for much longer I think that I’m going to either faint or scream or both.”

“Hmm. Pardon me for asking, mademoiselle, but how did you get lost?” 

Adrien had turned his gaze back to her; his sharp green eyes pinned her in place. She gulped as she began to tell her story, starting slow but talking faster and faster as she grew more nervous under Adrien’s gaze.

“I came on an official visit, but got distracted. I fell behind the tour group I came with and took a wrong turn, and then probably did it again, because I’ve never been down here before and I was totally lost. There were lanterns lighting up a path away from the dead end I’d found, but they just led me here, not back to the group. They also turned out not to be actual lanterns, which is embarrassing but kind of scary. I still don’t know where the light’s coming from,” she said, glancing towards the corner where the murky green light started. “It led me here, and then the tunnel fell dark behind me. I don’t even remember which one it was now. Then I saw you, uh, your skeleton, and I was panicking, so I picked up your journal and read it, and there was a flash of light, and you know the rest, I think.” She gestured helplessly. “I still think I might be hallucinating, or I wouldn’t be so calm. If this is what dying’s like, at least it’s not so bad; I mean, I get a hot guy to look at and everything!”

Adrien tilted his head, considering the long string of words she’d just vomited. “It might be for the best that I don’t know what that phrase means,” he said with a shy laugh. “I’m going to assume that it means my presence is calming to you since you haven’t seen another human in a while, yet it is unnerving at the same time because you think it means that you are dying. Good news; you are not dying— yet.”

Marinette swallowed hard and stared at him. Adrien offered her a tiny, not-so-reassuring smile and kept talking.

“More good news; the fact that you were able to resurrect me by reading the spells from my book is proof that you are, in fact, a Mage! One of Tikki’s Mages, and a very powerful one at that! So, with any luck, we might survive this. If you don’t believe me, mademoiselle, I have further proof to offer you: the lights you described are the same ones that led me astray over two hundred years ago. They are part of an elaborate and everlasting curse which was specifically meant to affect me alone, the one which led to my demise."

"However, Plagg and Tikki’s Mages share a bonded magic, with each group bearing one half of a whole Gift. Because you are a Mage of equal power to me, the curse affected you through that bond, which recognizes Plagg’s Gift to me and Tikki’s Gift to you as two parts of one whole and allowed the curse to affect you in just the same manner as it did me.” Adrien smiled sheepishly at Marinette as her mouth fell open and she stuttered out little aborted attempts at responding. Then he blinked, and his face sobered. “Ah, and if you can permit one more question, I have another one! You insisted you were not a Mage before, but then, you didn’t seem surprised at all to hear that I thought you were one. Do you know what they are, what magic is, or kwamis?”

Marinette was shocked. “I, uh, yes, that is, I do! I know a bit about kwamis, and a bit more about magic and Mages, but I was tested by quite a few of those, and I really don’t think that I am one! I failed all their tests,” she said with a nervous laugh.

Adrien frowned. “The only way that a curse as powerful as the one placed on me could have been lifted was if one of Tikki’s most powerful Mages read a specific spell from my book, the one that you’re still holding, mademoiselle, and the one you read from just before my sudden and unexpected revival. So, regardless of the tests you ‘failed,’ I am very certain that you are a Mage. Now; you reversed the curse which killed me, and you know about magic, and so you must know by now that this is all real. You are not hallucinating, you did not dream getting lost or finding my body or coaxing life into it again. But tell me, the light which you described— is this a new one, or is it the same as the one that led you astray before? It took a while for my eyes to adjust, or I would already know the answer, but I do not, sadly,” Adrien admitted.

Marinette pursed her lips and turned, considering the eerie light. “I think it’s a new one. The light used to come from a different corner before you woke up.”

“Before you resurrected me by undoing the curse which killed me,” Adrien corrected. “Which I am forever indebted to you for, mademoiselle. I know of no way to repay you, but I will do my best.”

Marinette turned as red as a tomato at the attention. “N-need you no,” she stammered. “Uh, I mean, thank you! You really don’t need to worry about it, though!”

Then she froze as a thought formed in her brain, which seemed to be lagging as it processed the fact that what she’d thought (almost hoped) was a hallucination was real life.

The spell she’d cast was supposed to undo curses… but who had cursed Adrien?

A vague memory entered Marinette’s mind from the very start of her internship at the library. Curse Adrien Agreste for choosing these books to write in…  

Oh, no. This was all her fault, wasn’t it?

Wringing her hands together, Marinette blurted out, “Oh, no, the curse! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to kill you! I really didn’t even know I could use magic until you got resurrected, I swear!”

“Oh, you aren’t the one who cursed me, though I would like to examine that fear of yours more closely in the future. It was my parents,” Adrien said nonchalantly, taking the book out of her arms and flipping forward a few pages. “Or rather, what’s left of them.”

In the distance, a loud noise like metal being torn sounded, and Marinette's stomach dropped.

“What was that?” she asked, taking a tiny step closer to Adrien.

“Excellent question. I was trying to figure it out before my untimely death but I didn’t make much progress. The best description I have is darkness, mockingly crafted into the form of a human being.”

Oh, so the magic zombies woke up after all. Great.  

“They can sense us,” Adrien was saying, snapping Marinette out of her panicked spiraling. “We’re both Mages, and if I’m right, our magic gives off a signal that they can follow. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this! They should know better than to go after young maidens.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, well they already tried to kill my friend, Alya, so they must not have gotten the memo.”

Adrien turned, looking at her with sorrow in his eyes. “I apologize. It is always a tragedy when evil grows bold enough to challenge us unchecked. I blame myself for not putting an end to the Darkness sooner. I should have seen it for what it was.”

Marinette felt something spark in her chest. “Hey, no, you don’t get to blame yourself for that! How were you supposed to know your parents could turn into weird, dark magic zombies? I know how hard you fought to destroy the Darkness, and I know how much you lost because of it, and how much you never had the chance to have at all. You’ve done more than anyone else to stop this Darkness. And if…” her voice trailed off as the sounds got louder, still not as loud as the thump-thump of her heart in her ears, though. 

If you couldn’t do it, then who can? She felt bad for thinking it, and guilty for the pain she was about to cause Alya. Marinette swallowed and clenched her fist at her side as her thoughts tugged her down a dark path. She hadn’t listened when she’d told her to stay home, she hadn’t listened to her suspicions that she was a Mage; she’d gone to the catacombs by herself instead, and now she was going to pay the steep price for her folly.

A light touch at her wrist stirred her mind out of its spiral. She startled, turning to look at Adrien, who pulled his hand back from hers and offered her a small smile.

“You’re right that I fought them before with all I had. But we’re going to have to give them one last fight,” he said calmly. “We’re going to give the effort everything we’ve got. And if it doesn’t work, if we don’t make it out of here, then allow me to say that I am honored to go down fighting beside someone as strong of heart as you are.”

Marinette stared up at him. “I— I’m not really what you think,” she whispered. “I’m not a true Mage. And I know that I’m not a fighter. I’ve never faced anyone the way we’re going to have to, when they find us here. I can’t do it,” she said bitterly, shaking her head.

Adrien looked down at her with something like guilt in his eyes. “I told you, your magic is equal to mine. You might not know how to fight, but you can read a spell, and this book has plenty of them. I swear, I will do everything I can to protect you, but you’re going to have to help me if you want to make it out of here alive,” he spoke in a rush. The footsteps were getting louder. He reached out, slowly enough to broadcast his movements, and took her hand in his, squeezing it as if by doing so he could pass his own strength on to her. “I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but won’t you stand with me this once? You’ve already proved your strength by resurrecting me, mademoiselle— uh. Actually, may I know your name?”

Marinette found it was hard to refuse Adrien when he was looking at her with such an earnest, soft expression. “Marinette,” she whispered. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “Nice to officially meet you, Marinette. My name is Adrien Agreste,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile.

“I know.”

A light blush spread over his cheeks. “Oh right, my name was in the journal. Which you’ll be needing again, so here, take it!” He handed it to her, and she gingerly accepted it. 

“Do you really think I can do this? What if the first time was a fluke?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No spell that powerful could ever be done by accident, if that’s what you mean. It will work, I promise.”

Marinette took a shaky breath. “Okay. Then I promise that I’ll try.” It was the least she could do, at this point.

Adrien nodded, satisfied. “It’s open to a spell that should offer us some protection, once you speak it. I’ll distract the first… beings, for as long as I can. And, Marinette?” Adrien turned that same earnest expression to her, and she couldn’t look away. “Believe in yourself. You’re more powerful than you know.”

The tunnels surrounding them lit with a pale green light, and Adrien stepped in front of Marinette, holding his hands out in a defensive stance.

“Plagg, claws out.” 

A richer green light flashed around him, and a staff appeared in his hand. 

The first zombie stepped into the room with them, and before Marinette had a chance to take in its mockingly human features, Adrien was already attacking it, lashing out with his staff and forcing it back before moving on to the next zombie. Now that the first one was down, the rest poured into the room quicker, and though Adrien did his best to hold them back, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and there was no place for Marinette to hide in the midst of the fight.

Under the eerie light of the tunnels, she traced her finger over the words of the spell Adrien had left his book open to. She didn’t feel ready to try magic again, but Adrien was counting on her, and even if she wasn’t a powerful Mage like he’d thought, she owed it to him to try and help.

“Tikki, spots on.” A red flash briefly surrounded her, and suddenly, she was holding a yo-yo. It was red, with black spots, and as soon as the zombies saw that she was holding it, they began to attack more ferociously. A few of them made it past Adrien while he was fighting on the other side of the room, and Marinette’s heart pounded fearfully.

“Spin the yo-yo, it works like a shield!” Adrien called to her. A zombie grabbed hold of his arm while he was speaking, but he touched it with his right hand and called, “Cataclysm!” The zombie hissed and sparked with a black energy before seeming to dissolve. 

The other zombies wailed, a chilling, otherworldly sound that nearly paralyzed Marinette. But she did as Adrien told her to, and even though they rushed toward her in rage, none of the zombies made it past her shield. Turning this way and that, she held them off, occasionally whacking ones that got too close on the head. They never stayed down long, and as still more zombies poured into the room, Marinette felt despair well up in her heart.

“Cataclysm!” Adrien called out again, and this time he touched a group of zombies packed all together. All of them were affected by the spell’s power, and as they faded, a pocket of empty space briefly appeared around Adrien and Marinette.

“Is there another spell that can help us?” she asked him. Her right arm was beginning to feel the strain of constantly needing to spin the yo-yo for protection, and she had the journal tucked under her left arm so tightly that she could feel the imprint of its edges on her body. 

“There’s always another spell, but there’s always a consequence for it,” Adrien said, moving to stand back-to-back with her as the zombies closed in on them. “The most powerful ones in my arsenal would collapse the tunnels on us, and I’m not a master of Tikki’s own spells; I don’t know which ones would work in this situation.”

“But there must be something!” Marinette cried in panic. “Use Cataclysm on them again and buy us some time!”

Adrien obeyed, and another pocket of space opened up. Marinette took advantage of the short amount of time free from zombies to flip through the book and find an appropriate spell to use.

“Teapots, galette des rois, fork, stone, why are none of these spells helpful? What are they even for?”

Adrien shrugged and lunged forward to catch a zombie who was leading the third charge towards them. “Tikki’s Mages were never focused on war magic; they’re mostly pacifists. Otherwise, I think the last battle against the Darkness would have gone a bit differently,” he muttered. “No offense to them, of course! Creation is by its nature in conflict with that of war. And many of those Mages offered what help they could. But to use their spells effectively, they had to get creative .” He took the time to flash a smile at her before lashing out with another spell.

Marinette noticed that the zombies were getting closer to her again, and quickly resumed spinning her yo-yo shield. “Is now really the best time for puns?”

“Now is always the best time for puns,” Adrien retorted. “Cataclysm!”

Marinette rolled her eyes as her mind raced ahead, trying to come up with a solution. There was a short spell on the same page as the one Adrien’s ‘Cataclysm’ was on; like the others towards the front of the book, it seemed to be the opposite of Plagg’s spell, but it seemed like it might be useful to her. Unless, of course, it canceled out Cataclysm entirely.

“Adrien!” she called, still fighting off the endless surge of zombies attacking her.

Adrien turned to glance at her while keeping his own shield up. “What?”

“Do all my spells cancel out your spells? Like, if I use the one by Cataclysm, will the zombies you touched come back?”

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Not necessarily. You would need to use the Miracle Cure for that, but even then, we’re fighting in tandem. Our powers should recognize that and work together, so—” he paused to fight off a particularly vicious pair of zombies, “—your magic should recognize the Darkness as what’s wrong. If you use the Cure, it would try to undo the Darkness, the ultimate cause of these beings, the zombies, as you called them. It is a fitting name for them,” he said. 

Marinette ducked as a zombie leapt towards her and turned to drive it back. “Really? How so?” She knew zombies didn’t always mean the brain-hungry monsters of television, but she was surprised that Adrien even knew what the word meant.

“Because they’re not just figures of Darkness! They were people, once, but they’ve been corrupted by magic, forced to serve the Darkness until they’re released from their bodies.”

“Until they’re killed,” Marinette gasped. The next zombie to attack her nearly succeeded in grabbing her, but Adrien rushed over just in time, cataclysming it and turning it into ash in front of her eyes. 

“They’re already dead,” he said mournfully. “In every way that really counts. And since it’s been so long, since they’ve been trapped in this hell for centuries, I think they would consider this a mercy, if they could think.”

A zombie wailed and hissed as he struck it with his baton and drove it back against the others. 

“What do you mean? They can’t think at all?”

“They’re possessed, Marinette. I still don’t know by whom, but they are. My own parents wielded the curse that killed me. If they were themselves, if they could think and resist, they would never have done that to their own son.”

Marinette gazed through the thin shield she’d created at the zombies on the other side. They truly seemed to be made of darkness, like they were humans that had become like black holes, impossible to look at for long except for when a flash of green light would trace around them and give them the illusion of features.

“Then how did you know they were your parents?” she asked.

Adrien didn’t respond. He called for another Cataclysm instead, clearing most of the room now that the zombies were so tightly packed together.

A fourth wave quickly appeared.

And this time, Marinette could see how Adrien had known it was them.

These zombies were not like the rest. They were not made of darkness, not entirely, at least. Their features were like that of regular humans, but their eyes were inky black, and they moved as if they were sleepwalking, as if this was just a dream, like she’d once thought. But many of them were coated in blood, brown and dry, that had once oozed from their heads, their chests, their necks.

The two leading the others looked like Adrien. The woman had light blonde hair, while the man’s was graying. Unlike the others, they didn’t seem to have any blood on them. If it weren’t for their eyes, she never would have known anything was wrong with them.

But the woman opened her mouth, and a gurgling sound came from her throat, like she was choking on water. They had drowned. They’d drowned, and their bodies were lost. They were here. 

They were possessed. They’d killed their own son.

Marinette felt sick. 

“A…drien,” Emilie Agreste said slowly, her jaw's movement like that of a gate long rusted shut, now being forced to open. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You should not be alive,” her husband agreed in the same unearthly voice.

Adrien’s spine stiffened. “Cataclysm,” he whispered, and held the glowing ball of destruction in his fist like a threat.

“Your magic will not save you,” Gabriel said, and his voice was growing stronger. “Nor will hers.”

“The Mages must die. You are a plague on the earth, and I have been far too kind,” Emilie hissed.

Marinette felt panic clawing at her throat. “Lucky Charm!” she called at last, remembering the words of the spell she’d found. 

Gabriel lunged forward and caught the object before it had time to finish forming. “Cataclysm,” he said.

The object turned into ash, and Marinette’s mouth went dry.

“I thought they weren’t Mages,” she whispered fearfully.

Adrien looked at her from the side of his eyes. “They weren’t,” he said. “Their curse gave them magic, somehow. They can use as many powers as they want. We can’t stop them.”

“We have to,” Marinette said desperately. Adrien stepped closer to her and took her free hand, squeezing it in his. 

“We will try,” he assured her.

The zombies still weren’t attacking, but Emilie gave them a beckoning wave, and they filed into the room, lining its walls and blocking off the other tunnels. 

Adrien and Marinette readied their shields. Emilie summoned a trompo and smirked at them in a way very unlike the gentle woman Marinette had pictured while reading her journals.

“Venom,” she called brightly.

Marinette was frozen before she knew what had happened. All she could do was gaze ahead in fearful awe, though her head seemed to be free to move, unlike the rest of her body.

Adrien groaned. Checking her periphery, Marinette could tell that he’d been frozen, too.

Well, there were worse things that could’ve happened, Marinette thought as she eyed Gabriel’s open fist.

“Your little game has gone on too long, Mages,” Emilie told them with a smile. “You should take some time to prepare for the end.”

The Agrestes turned to stand by the one open tunnel, like sentries guarding their post. The light in the tunnels turned from a sickly green to a brilliant white, and the darkness was gone.

Adrien murmured something hurriedly under his breath, and the stiffness keeping Marinette in place released. She staggered forward, and the zombies gave her a warning glare.

“Please don’t bother trying,” Gabriel sniffed from his place by the tunnel entrance.

Marinette turned back to Adrien, who was wincing and rubbing his arm.

“What did you do?”

“An adapted version of a spell,” he said. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I used a small curse to counteract Venom. It won’t be enough.” He eyed the tunnel warily as the room grew even brighter, until finally Marinette had to close her eyes against the scorching light.

Then it faded.

“There you are, little Mages,” the voice from before crooned. It filled the whole room; it shook the floor and the ceiling and seemed to echo on eternally. “Yield to me, and I will keep you alive.”

Adrien gasped, and Marinette cracked open her eyes. In front of them stood a huge being, bright white and pink, with six arms and five teal eyes. They had curved antennae and gauzy wings, and the brightness seemed to emanate from them. All around them, the tunnels dissolved, leaving a dark void like space, though the zombies remained, surrounding them in a large circle.

“It’s impossible!” Adrien cried. “From where are you drawing your power, that you can take this form? Only the kwamis may wield this much magic!”

The being offered them a grim smile.

“I am the eldest and wisest of the kwamis,” they said in a double-toned voice. “I am everything that was, and is, and will be. My power is infinite; to fight me is to bring about your own destruction. Yield, little Mages, that your lives may be spared.”

Written for @mlbigbang 2023

[thunderbone]

David Bowie and Peter Schilling's Major Tom

English Hi guys, today I decided to share with you a series of fanarts that I've made over the years. In 1969, David Bowie released Space Oddity, one of the best songs of his musical career. The song is about an astronaut named Major Tom who went to space but never returned to Earth. After the song's resounding success, Bowie decided to continue using his character in other songs, such as Ashes to Ashes, Hallo Spaceboy and Blackstar. In 1982, Peter Schilling released Major Tom (Coming Home), a song that made him world famous, becoming an even bigger success than Space Oddity. The song is a reinterpretation of Space Oddity, where astronaut Major Tom manages to return to Earth, providing a happy ending for Bowie's character. Yes, both singers used the same character in their songs and after Schilling's song was released, several other singers also ended up using Bowie's character in their songs, either reinterpreting one of his songs, or telling a new story for the character and so on. Schilling's music really marked my childhood and remains one of my favorite rock songs, but Bowie's music is certainly an absolute classic, being a bubblegum song that keeps playing in my mind because it's so catchy, It's also one of my favorite rock songs. Anyway, in 2019, I made the first fanart of these two singers, in which they are representing Major Tom wearing astronaut clothes.

Furthermore, this was also one of the first drawings I outlined before painting and as you can see, the outline is very crooked, horrible hahaha Not to mention the poorly done painting right lol In 2020, I made the second fanart of David Bowie and Peter Schilling. It was supposed to be a realistic drawing, but everything went wrong LMFAO

Think about an ugly drawing, it's definitely one of the worst drawings I've ever done in my entire life… Like, look at David Bowie, I was supposed to aim at him but I ended up getting right on Kevin Bacon XD

In 2021, I made the third fanart. It was the second time I tried to make a realistic drawing of David Bowie and Peter Schilling, but this time it was a thousand times better than the previous fanart, which was already shit.

I'm not very good at making realistic drawings, but this drawing here is good for a beginner. And this was the last fanart I made of these two singers in 2023.

I had the idea of doing a redraw/remake of the first fanart, but instead of doing an anime drawing, I decided to use my "semi-realistic" style, a style that reminds me of comic books. In addition to drawing Bowie and Schilling, I also had the idea of drawing two furry characters to represent them, so I decided to draw two characters from Lackadaisy: Zib and Joey. After I made this fanart, I really wanted to paint, but my painting is very simple (it's as if a child had painted all my drawings) and I wanted a really cool painting, a well-done painting, you know. Even a friend of mine who does amazing digital arts was going to paint my drawing, but unfortunately she couldn't do it because she was very busy. Almost a year later, I was finally able to find someone who was available to paint my drawing, which in this case is Camila Vytória. This isn't the first time we've done a collab together, as we've done other collabs since 2022, where I drew and she painted the drawing. She is a super talented artist who makes realistic art and watercolor paintings, as well as being a very nice and kind person. After she painted my fanart, I saw that she made a small mistake. She painted Joey using the wrong color LMFAO Despite that, I had the idea that this cat was no longer Joey, now he's my new OC. Then meet Cosmo, a feline astronaut who loves traveling and adventuring through space. I still don't know if he'll be a Lackadaisy OC or a completely original character with no connection to this comic, but I'm still thinking about it. Thank you very much for doing another collab with me, you don't know how grateful I am for that. Seriously, I really loved the painting of this drawing, it was incredibly beautiful ❤️ If you want to see her work, click here: https://www.instagram.com/vcamilart/

Well, I hope you liked these fanarts I made over the years 😊

Português (Brasil) Oi pessoal, hoje resolvi compartilhar com vocês uma série de fanarts que eu fiz ao longo dos anos. Em 1969, David Bowie lançou Space Oddity, uma das melhores músicas de sua carreira musical. A música é sobre um astronauta chamado Major Tom que foi viajar pro espaço mas nunca mais voltou pra Terra. Após o sucesso estrondoso da música, Bowie resolveu continuar a usar seu personagem em outras músicas, como Ashes to Ashes, Hallo Spaceboy e Blackstar. Em 1982, Peter Schilling lançou Major Tom (Coming Home), uma música que o tornou mundialmente famoso, fazendo um sucesso ainda maior que Space Oddity. A música é uma releitura de Space Oddity, onde o astronauta Major Tom consegue voltar pra Terra, sendo um final feliz pro personagem de Bowie. Sim, ambos os cantores usaram o mesmo personagem em suas músicas e depois que a música de Schilling lançou, vários outros cantores também acabaram usando o personagem de Bowie em suas músicas, seja fazendo uma releitura de uma de suas músicas, ou contando uma nova história pro personagem e etc. A música de Schilling marcou muito a minha infância e continua sendo uma das minhas músicas de rock favoritas, mas a música de Bowie com certeza é um clássico absoluto, sendo uma música chiclete que não para de tocar em minha mente de tão cativante que é, sendo também uma das minhas músicas de rock favoritas. Enfim, em 2019, fiz a primeira fanart desses dois cantores, no qual estão representando o Major Tom usando roupas de astronauta.

Além disso, esse também foi um dos primeiros desenhos que contornei antes de pintar e como deram pra notar, o contorno tá muito torto, horrível ksksksksksksks Sem contar a pintura mal feita XD Essa primeira fanart era pra ser anime, mas acho que não deu muito certo rsrs Em 2020, fiz a segunda fanart do David Bowie e Peter Schilling. Era pra ser um desenho realista, mas deu tudo errado sksksksks

Pensa num desenho feio, com certeza é um dos piores desenhos que já fiz em toda a minha vida… Tipo, olha pro David Bowie, era pra mirar nele mas acabei acertando no Kevin Bacon XD Em 2021, fiz a terceira fanart. Foi a segunda vez que tentei fazer um desenho realista do David Bowie e do Peter Schilling, só que desta vez ficou mil vezes melhor do que a fanart anterior, que já era uma merda.

Eu não sou muito bom em fazer desenhos realistas, mas esse desenho aqui até que ficou bom pra um iniciante. E essa foi a última fanart que fiz desses dois cantores em 2023.

Tive a ideia de fazer um redesenho/remake da primeira fanart, só que ao invés de fazer um desenho em anime, resolvi usar o meu estilo "semi realista", um estilo que lembra de HQs. Além de eu ter desenhado Bowie e Schilling, também tive a ideia de desenhar dois personagens furry pra representá-los, então resolvi desenhar dois personagens de Lackadaisy: Zib e Joey. Depois que fiz essa fanart, eu queria muito pintar, mas a minha pintura é muito simples (é como se uma criança tivesse pintado todos os meus desenhos) e eu queria uma pintura muito foda, uma pintura bem feita, sabe. Inclusive uma amiga minha que faz incríveis artes digitais ia pintar o meu desenho, mas infelizmente ela não pôde fazer isso por estar bastante ocupada. Quase um ano depois, eu finalmente pude achar alguém que estivesse disponível pra pintar o meu desenho, que no caso é a Camila Vytória. Essa não é a primeira vez que fizemos uma collab juntos, pois nós já fizemos outras collabs desde 2022, onde eu desenhava e ela pintava o desenho. Ela é uma artista super talentosa que faz artes realistas e pinturas em aquarela, além de ser uma pessoa muito legal e gentil. Depois que ela pintou a minha fanart, vi que ela cometeu um pequeno erro. Ela pintou o Joey usando uma cor errada ksksksksksksksks Apesar disso, tive a ideia desse gato não ser mais o Joey, agora ele é o meu novo OC. Então conheçam Cosmo, um astronauta felino que adora viajar e se aventurar pelo espaço. Eu ainda não sei se ele vai ser um Lackadaisy OC ou um personagem totalmente original sem qualquer ligação com essa HQ, mas ainda estou pensando nisso. Muito obrigado por fazer mais uma collab comigo, não sabe o quão sou grato por isso. Sério, eu amei demais a pintura desse desenho, ficou incrivelmente lindo ❤️ Caso queiram conhecer o trabalho dela, cliquem aqui: https://www.instagram.com/vcamilart/

Bom, espero que tenham gostado dessas fanarts que fiz ao longo dos anos 😊

[edwinspaynes]

I would love to know some of your TSC unpopular opinions

I defninitely have talked about a lot of them on here before, so I'm not going to elaborate on the ones I've talked about a lot, if that's okay! But I'll list them! :)

POSITIVE OPINIONS

TLH is a beautifully written and perfectly executed series and I love everything about it. It is by far the best.

Chain of Thorns is my favourite book and wrapped everything up in a very wonderful, very hopeful way.

I love the James-Cordelia-Matthew love triangle.

Cordelia is not only the strongest protagonist in TSC, she is one of THE strongest literary protagonists I have ever read. Herondaisy is the best main ship in TSC. (And my favourite along with Thomastair, but they're not the main ship of their series.)

I think that the reasoning behind the family tree is hilarious and I love it deeply.

I am having the precise complex feelings that I'm supposed to be having for Grace. I feel sad for her, but her actions were also inexcusable. Good on Cassie.

Sophideon and Chenry deserve way more love than they get. I adore them.

I don't take any issue with the Clace incest plotline because it was about abuse/control, not incest.

Clary is a wonderful person and a strong protagonist and I'll die on this hill. She was complex and funny.

TMI is a genuinely good series. It is so much fun. It's paced well and consistently engaging, and the characters are all very fleshed out. A+.

NEGATIVE OPINIONS

TDA is by far the worst series and is in fact objectively terrible.

I literally would kick Julian Blackthorn off a cliff.

Blackstairs is an insufferable ship that gives me a very visceral Ick.

Julian would have been cool if he had gone dark and been the villain of TWP.

The inconsistent plotting of TDA makes no sense.

Thule is an objectively shit plot point

I don't really like the Shadowhunter world's faerie lore or depictions of faerie realms

Will and Wessa are treated absolutely terribly by the holistic TSC narrative.

Historical Tessa (pre-A Deeper Love chronolgically) is one of my favourite characters. Modern Tessa is characterized horribly and feels like a shadow of her former self.

I'm not too interested in TWP yet (though I think I will like it.)

Those are some of the biggest! They're what I can think of for now. Hope this makes sense!

[captain-peanut110]

Percy Jackson and the Olympians episodes one and two, immediate impressions

Written by someone who absolutely lived those books as a kid and is no less obsessed with them as a grown up.

I will try to avoid spoilers for anything that comes later in the book or in later books in case people who have only watched the show will be reading this, but there might still be unintentional spoilers and there definitely will be spoilers for how the event of the first two episodes went down in the book.

I have been waiting since before the old movies came out, suffered the disappointment of their existence, was part of the collective agreement Lightning Thief had no sequel and am finally ready to see them try again.

I have just finished re-reading the first series and am nearing the end of House of Hades, so all the book stuff is fresh in my mind.

(I also bough the first five and all five Trials of Apollo for only £12 yesterday 🎊🎊🎊 now my tiny London apartment is flooded with books I already have no space for 🤣🤣🤣 so worth it though.)

Episode 1

- seems lovely so far;

- Percy is perfectly himself and the acting is damn decent;

- Little Percy is very cute, but also sort of spooky, make me think of the ocean, no matter what, there is always something eerie about it;

- Nancy is as awful, as she has to be and it is a nice thought that Percy understands she bullies him because of her own issues, yet also acknowledges it is still not okay;

- Brunner is perfect, they nailed his feel and presence 10/10. Why is his horse part not white though? Come on, it doesn’t have to match his skin tone and would have looked super cool, setting him apart from other centaurs like it does in the books;

- The kindly one (what they call Furies in the book) is well done and properly terrifying;

- Sally Jackson is the star, seriously, she is everything;

- Smelly Gabe is authentic enough to smell him trough the screen;

- Super funny that his reward for letting them take the car in the show is a sandwich he never ends up getting at all. At least in the books he got his dips

- BUT!!!!! Wtf with Gabe saying please? And them watching the game together? Why is he suddenly not that terrible??? How could they have decided to give redeeming qualities to this guy??? He is like the definition of awful and there really was no need to make him better in any way.

Initially I did not particularly notice this, because he was disgusting in my eye, yet upon watching for the second time, I replied he repeatedly said please and his conversation with Sally seemed suddenly more like banter than the awful way he treated her in the books. This gives their marriage something to it and makes it feel like there might have been a reason why they got married other than Sally wanting to protect Percy though Gabe's smell. And that is just wrong. Gabe was absolutely the king of awful in the books and he should have stayed that way.

I felt like I had to go back to add this point, because I missed it in my initial watching when I was writing this immediate reaction.

It can be argued that even the worst abusers are not horrible 24/7 and are ofter nice to the people around them from time to time, which makes it even more confusing and hard to leave them. But this does not really fit to the situation here, Gabe had zero redeeming qualities in the book and I can't see why there would be a need to give him any in the show;

- Sally being firmly on Percy’s side is pure gold and absolute parenting goals;

- Blue candy !!!!

- D’Angelo sandwiches though??? Hmmm…

- “Who is Yantsy?” 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Gabe is so dumb, i love it;

- Hades is not satan, they finally got that right! At least I think that’s supposed to be Hades;

- Can’t stress enough how awesome it is that Percy is not an orphan in the books. His relationship with Sally is everything. It is also a whole lot less lazy than just having an orphaned protagonist and also a lot more relatable for the readers;

- I love the scene where Percy is confused and scared, trying to get her to stop, but Sally keeps talking, as if she knows if she does not say it out loud, she will never be able to;

- Sally: “He was a god.” Percy: “You fell in love with Jesus?” 🤣🤣🤣

- Grover is so funny though, I can’t even;

- The Minotaur cgi looks decent;

- And he is wearing underpants!!!

- Bye-bye Gabe’s car;

- Grover is supposed to be unconscious!!! That’s a major point of his later self-torments, the fact that he got knocked out and Percy had to carry him all the way.

I cannot see why he needed to be present for this scene. He doesn’t do much of anything other than having Sully make him swear to protect Percy, although I am not certain what that was emphasised for?

- Sally is badass! Hell yeah for mothers doing mad stuff to protect their babies, super on point and as someone who does have a baby, super realistic;

- Noooo!!! Sally!!! Proper heartbreaking;

- He did not have the sword yet! Or Grover there! And he fought the Minotaur anyways!!!

It was supposed to be the first sing of his endless courage bordering on idiocy and a serious lack in the self preservation department when it comes to people he loves being in danger.

Which ultimately is a super important point in the story. I feel they missed an opportunity to show just how many fucks are absolutely not given when Percy sees somebody dear to him threatened;

- He does still kill him with the horn, not the sword, so I guess I can forgive the sword being there for a brief second. Although it would certainly add more meaning if it wasn’t;

- Show us how he carried Grower to Camp after killing the Minotaur!!! Percy did it all on his own, no help whatsoever! That’s part of what made other campers so interested in him!

- Annabeth!!! My best girl!!!

Episode 2

- Percy’s eyes are so book accurate, a proper proper sea green, I am happy happy happy;

- And Walker is such a perfect fit for the role, it really feels like he is Percy. I can forgive them for not having someone else, who had dark hair, his casting in on par.

Also I feel like nailing his eyes is more important than hair. They are an important part of the character, a reflection of his connection to the ocean.

I can also completely get behind not immediately wanting to dye a child’s hair, so it’s not that important.

I am personally of the opinion, that unless a character’s appearance is a point in the plot, such as relation to a certain someone hinted at trough similarity in looks/belonging to a certain group/coming from a certain place/being singled out positively or negatively because of certain features/etc, changing it doesn’t matter;

A good example is the colour of Percy’s eyes. It needs to be maintained, as they are a reference to his father being Poseidon and him being a child of the sea;

- The same goes for Leah, she has absolute Annabeth energy and is just perfect every step of the way, so the fact that she ain’t blonde doesn’t really matter. It was not a particular plot point in the books and the change will not affect her character in any way;

(If Elle Woods suddenly wasn’t blonde anymore, that would be insane, in Annabeth’s case, it is not that important.)

- Aww, Percy thinks Poseidon is going to be there at camp, that’s heartbreaking :((

- Peter Johnson !!!

- ‘He’s starting with me!’

- For a moment I thought he was gonna say ‘the wine dude Dionysus’ 🤣 that would hardy have ended well;

- ‘Your Highness’ 🤣🤣🤣 Percy is adorable;

- Mister D pretending to be Percy’s dad and trying to get him to fetch a bottle of wine is sooooo funny, I died. Chiron’s face though… 🤣🤣🤣 ‘I could be!’ ‘But are you?!’

And this:

- ‘Son.’

- ‘Dad?’

- ‘Yes Peter!’

- ‘Percy!’

- ‘Exactly’

- And Percy looking at Mr D and thinking: ‘Mom fell in love with and spoke so highly of this guy? He is basically Divine Gabe.’

I will be anything upon first meeting him in the show and hearing the ‘i am your dad’ thing, that is exactly what Percy is thinking. ‘Oh no, my dad is the Less Smelly Gabe?‘

- The Hermes cabin is looking good, the chaos seems very authentic;

- As someone who had been bullied at school for different from other kids, it is a very touching moment, when Percy is sure the Hermes kids are about to start some trouble, but Luke is just so lovely to him instead.

It is honestly every weird kid’s dream to have someone approach them with something kind to say.

And when he says: ‘you are just like everyone else here’, it must have felt so nice for Percy to finally hear something like that, like there is somewhere he can belong as himself;

- Luke, my sweet tragic baby ❤️ i cannot help loving him so damn much;

His underlying wistfulness and hidden pain from not feeling loved by his dad break my heart into a million pieces. And the way he just older-brothers Percy from the beginning is everything ❤️

- But does this show hate blonde people?

Cause Luke isn’t blonde either. 🤣

Once again, great acting, charisma and that feel of Luke’s powerful awesomeness tinted with desolate melancholy was captured brilliantly.

Charles does have that vibe and is great in the role. But I just had to note the ‘nobody is blonde’ thing cause it’s funny;

- More importantly though, WHERE IS LUKE’S SCAR??? That little scrape he’s got on his face is way too small and insignificant to be the unfortunate trophy from a dragon fight.

It looks nowhere near ghastly enough!

The whole point was that Luke was super handsome, but his scar was there like a tear in a beautiful portrait.

Charles is a good looking fella, he could have easily pulled off having a huge scar running across half of his face and still be a ladies’ dream;

- The Dryad with Grover has such sweet motherly vibes;

- Is it me or do Grover’s goat legs appear somewhat skinny?

- ‘Like an old banana’ Damn, Grover. I feel like this nicely reminds everyone Grover is not the human child he appears as;

- I feel like it is more realistic that Percy comes to believe his mother can be saved from the underworld by himself, since it is pretty logical, if the underworld is a place you can go to, you could theoretically bring someone back.

There didn’t really need to be an ominous investigation conducted by Grover for Percy to come upon that idea;

- More creepy ass dreams;

- CLARISSE MUST BE BUFFER!!!

And here I somewhat don’t get it.

Cause Dior looks perfectly buff enough for the part in pictures online, but it almost feels like they made her look smaller on camera, instead of using filming techniques to make her look even bigger.

All I could think while watching those scenes was “Clarisse must be bigger!”. Why does she look so skinny in the show, when the actress has got proper muscles irl?

- Percy being terrible at everything he tries reminds me of Harry trying the wands out and making stuff blow up

- He set the Hephaestus kids’ stuff on fire 🤣🤣🤣 Leo should have been there 😉

- Is there a god of disappointment 🤣🤣🤣

- But you burn the stuff to send a message to the gods, not mortals or dead people. Burnt offerings are only messages to a god they are offered for.

Did Percy misunderstand this or did the makers of the show?

Cause there should be no way for Sally to have actually gotten that message;

- Burning candy and talking to mama hits right home though. Very painful, peak cinema, hurts a lot. Poor little Percy, he just needs a hug;

- Not from a gutter, Clarisse, what the actual?!?!

- Aaaand Supreme Lord of the Bathroom emerges!!!

I just love how good old Jonny outright refuses to harm Percy.

But does this mean Poseidon is the god of toilet water as well 🤣🤣🤣 what about everything that is flushed with it? Would he have power over that as well? Or only clean gutter water?

Also!!! Is Percy immune to ‘the Neptune’s kiss’?

(‘The Neptune’s kiss’ - is an unfortunate occurrence while going number two, when one of them lot falls down into the bowl with a blast and the water splashes back onto your unprotected buttcheeks.)

Cause that would be a seriously cool ability to have indeed;

- Annabeth!!! Always a win for Annabeth!!!

‘i can explain!’ ‘No you can’t!’

Absolutely chemistry

‘Are you stalking me, Annabeth?’ ‘Yes’

- Forbidden kids… hmm.. that’s an interesting way of putting it;

- Annabeth is Sherlock with better social skills? Hell yeah, Percy can be her sword-wielding Watson;

- Their armour looks so good! Like actually pleasant to look at, you can see effort and thought went into the costumes in the show.

Seeing them all dressed up reminds me of the longstanding tradition at Camp Halfblood of running outside wearing a breastplate and underpants when danger strikes in the middle of the night!

I really really hope they show that in this series;

- Percy should appreciate Annabeth standing there silently and waiting for him to get up, since any other classmate from his past would have made fun of his fall and certainly would not have waited for him to get up.

The way Annabeth reacted is decent between two warriors.

She did not mock his fall, waited for him to get up and made no unkind comments about it afterwards.

She did not help him get up, because he does not need assistance with such a minor trouble, which is something Percy will have to learn very soon.

As someone who has been bullied back at school, sometimes standing there silently is the nicest way someone you don’t know very well can react to you embarrassing yourself;

- I love how Annabeth doesn’t flaunt her being better at stuff in Percy’s face, he is the one who says that in a fit of self deprecation.

The writers could have easily had her say something like ‘of course i’m better’, as happens a lot in modern cinema, when characters boast about how awesome they are instead of showing it.

She respectfully listens to his ranting, then simply straightens out his breastplate, which is such an adorable moment between them my heart is going to shatter into a million pieces.

She then proceeds to tell him ‘you don’t even know how you fit into all this’ , basically saying ‘you don’t know how powerful you are’, but Annabeth is being wise.

She knows there is no point in telling Percy how awesome he could be. She believes in him and knows he needs discover his awesomeness on his own.

(I am currently re-reading The House of Hades, about half-ways trough.

Thus seeing cute Percy and Annabeth moments soothes by bleeding heart.

If you know you know, not gonna spoil an ancient book, ahahahha. )

- Yankees’ cap!!! (I know i am way too easily excited to see stuff from the book, but I was a Percy Jackson fan when the first movie came out and i still carry that damage, so cut me so slack)

- Game on! And she absolutely believes in him and never says anything demeaning, that is so awesome.

There is a trend in modern cinema to show characters’ badassness and awesomeness by having them be demeaning and rude to their companions.

This has been around for a while where the guy who was the best at everything was just allowed to be awful to everybody because of it.

Recent it has infected movies with female leads, as if the only way a woman can be portrayed as strong and capable is by being a bully to lesser men around her.

I love what they did with Annabeth here.

She is spectacular, she’s got a great plan, she knows it, she doesn’t have to repeat it.

But she does not need to be compared to Percy to be amazing, she simply is.

She also has faith in Percy and is supportive of him, without being patronising or feeling the need to over-explain.

She is confident he will know what to do when the time comes and believes honestly he will do well.

She does not tell him what to do because she is sure he will know when the time comes and that is a smart way to teach him a lesson about having faith in himself;

- Luke is so awesome, they nailed him! His faith in Annabeth and the way he says ‘Percy’s on it’ with no doubt whatsoever… i am loving it all;

- Percy is authentically adhd, this shit is so relatable 🤣

Petting that lizard is such a banger thing to do, i mean…

- It did not happen in the books like this, but these are such Percy moments, i cannot even 🤣 the main actor was a top choice;

- Closing your eyes and touching leafs or rocks is something I also absolutely love doing, Percy knows what’s on;

- Clarisse’s spear looks nifty as heck.

While I did complain that she needs to be bigger, Dior is perfect in this role. The casting generally is great so far.

She does portray the big bully energy really well;

- I have enjoyed the fight, although wasn’t Percy only supposed to get his power up after he touched the water? (I most honestly don’t remember)

Here it seems the presence of the river so close was enough and I must agree that it does look awesome when he suddenly begins fighting properly;

- And he falls into the water, heals up and is claimed by Poseidon. Precious!

- I am loving the Poseidon cabin vibes, it is just like the ocean. Beautiful and charming, but eerie and mysterious;

- I do not understand why they had to change it from Percy taking the quest immediately with the hidden idea of saving his mother, to his blatantly refusing the quest, only to have Grover tell him Sally can be saved to sway him to go anyways.

I think this was somewhat of a weird choice, but maybe it will matter later on, who knows.

It does fix up the rift between Grover and Percy with the whole Grover lying and getting him expelled situation, but that wasn’t really in the book at all, so…

I guess they wanted to try and not copy the book word for word, but Percy refusing the quest so harshly out of self preservation we have already established he doesn’t have much of seems a little out of character.

Maybe they are trying to emphasise that he would do anything to save his mom, but even without that, Percy would still have agreed to save the world and all, that’s his whole point.

And he did go with the idea of saving his mother in the book, he just didn't Grover to tell him it was possible, he simply refused to accept his mother was dead and was set on getting her back.

He is not a reluctant hero, he marches head first into danger, risks his life to save the world all the time and eats reality shattering prophecies for breakfast. (If you know you know ;)) )

I guess it doesn’t matter all that much.

In the book and the show he agreed to go on a quest in great part because he thought he could to save his mother, it was just presented differently. But I do feel once again they are diminishing Percy’s badassery.

This sweet and wonderful child doesn't need anybody's permission or reassurance, he simply though: 'Wow, there is my opportunity to go to the underworld, my mother must be there, to hell with Hades, I will make him give her back!"

He basically thought she was dead and still planned on getting her back anyways!!!

As we have seem during the duel with the Minotaur, when given proper motivation (or simply when pissed off and/or desperate enough) Percy is absolutely unhinged.

He takes no shits from anyone, god, monster, or whatever else.

It just feels a bit weird to see Percy Jackson yelling ‘no’ to a quest.

And feels like Percy's determination and intelligence are diminished because he did not come upon the idea of saving Sally on his own.

- Also, since when does Percy have a sense of self-preservation, aahahaha he could have really used a bit more of that in the books

Overall 7/10 so far

One point off for the removal of Percy's grand refusal to accept death and his brilliant sneaky plan to attempt bringing his mother back from the underworld while the quest for the Masterbolt provides a valid reason to go there. Seriously, this was perfectly devious in the books. He kept the idea to himself and simply nursed a plan to basically bring his mother back from the dead all on his own.

One point off for Luke’s scar being tiny. Everything else appearance wise is not important cause the actors are great. But not giving Luke the proper huge scar is a cosmetic decision that I do not condone

And one extra point off for Gabe saying please and having redeeming human features, as well as Sally actually wanting to watch the game with him, I could not imagine she would have ever wanted to do anything with Smelly Gabe, no no no no no

All in all, this is great so far, I need more with urgency.

Thank you for reading this much 💚

[burnwater13]

Boba Fett and Fennec Shand leading the Mods down the streets of Mos Espa. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu had questions. Lots of questions. His first question was where did you get a cool speeder bike like the ones the Mods were cruising around Mos Espa on? His second question was do they come in purple? He had always liked the color purple and he thought that if he could convince his dad to get him a cool speeder/scooter like the ones they had, he definitely wanted it to be purple. 

Like Master Windu’s lightsaber. Which had also been cool. Of course he wouldn’t be telling Daimyo Fett anything about that. He understood that the two of them had some history and Grogu didn’t want to bring any bad memories back. That wouldn’t win him any support in the get dad to get him something fun and cool and pretty. 

“Hey, kid, does your dad know what you’re up to?”

Grogu sighed. Fennec always showed up at the worst possible moment. He quickly shut down his datapad and turned a very fake smile on the Daimyo’s right hand person. 

“Well, you’re not going to get it if you don’t collect allies while you can.”

She turned to walk away and Grogu ran over to her and hugged her boot.

“That’s more like it. Listen kid, I don’t care if you get a speeder/scooter and ride it from her to Pika Oasis everyday. Just don’t bring any fish back and give the gorgs directly to the cook. But you and I both know that your dad doesn’t want you to have one. He doesn’t have a good record with speeder bikes and he knows that you are twice as reckless as he is. He thinks you’re going to get hurt. Now…”

Fennec paused and it seemed to last forever. Grogu held her boot even tighter. 

“You know that your dad listens to the Daimyo. He respects him because he understands the Mandalorian experience and he understands what it takes to be a bounty hunter. Your dad is supposed to be training you to be a bounty hunter, right? You are his apprentice. That means you should be showing the Daimyo just how responsible you are. How much of a hard worker you are. How you can fit in small spaces and retrieve things for him that no one else can.”

Ahhh… so that was what Fennec was up to! She needed Grogu’s help. It was such a rare occurrence and as much as he wanted to gloat and do a little dance, he knew that he needed to strike while the lures were hot!

He tapped her boot and then signed his question to her.

“What and where? You’re pretty smart kid. You worked that out faster than the Majordomo did the last time I made him an offer. Okay, enough of that. Turns out that bacta tank that the Daimyo uses has a filter cartridge that requires periodic maintenance. The droid that does the maintenance was cleaning it when the Gamorreans entered its work room to have their axes sharpened. Being a bit on the clumsy side they knocked the filter off the bench and it rolled behind a built cabinet that even the Gamorreans can’t budge. Turns out, no one needs to move it. We just need someone with a small hand and the ability to use the Force to get the thing. That’s where you come in. Can you get that Jedi friend of yours to stop by? He could fetch it for us in no time.”

Well. Fine. Be. That. Way! 

Grogu pouted at he looked up her. He knew that she knew that he could do that without breaking a sweat, which meant he could be on his new speeder scooter faster than a bantha could lick your face. She was just teasing him because he’d spent ‘a day too long at that Jedi Sleep Away Camp’. 

“Oh, come on. I’m just teasing you. Your friend can’t get here anything like soon enough. I need that filter back today. Let’s go.”

Fennec offered to carry him, which was a first. He jumped into her arms and then let her settle him on her shoulder. He preferred the view from there. 

Before he knew it they had left the kitchen, where he’d been eating a snack and looking at speeder/scooters on his datapad, and were suddenly in the basement workrooms. He still had no idea how Fennec managed to move so fast, even while he was sitting on her shoulder watching her. It just seemed like walking to him but she always got where she was going so quickly compared to the amount of time it would have taken his dad or even the Daimyo. Huh.

When they reached the correct workroom, there were only thirteen of them filled with various tools and equipment, Grogu hopped down from her shoulder and made his way to the cabinet that the two Gamorreans were still standing next to. At attention. With their axes at the ready. 

Grogu chirped at them and they stepped carefully to the side, giving him a clear path to the interior of the cabinet.

He coo’d at Fennec and found himself holding a flashlight. He appreciated how quickly she got that for him. 

“It rolled through that small cut out in the back. Yes, right there. Now do your thing kid.”

Grogu almost laughed or giggled or chortled, he didn’t know what the sound was that he smothered but it was definitely based on how desperate she was and the view he had of the problem. He put the flashlight down, being careful to make sure that the beam of light still lit up the small opening  and then raised his left land and walked slowly, very slowly toward the opening. 

Before Fennec could ask him how it was going, the flashlight clicked off and he was plunged into darkness. He felt a breeze blow by him and as it did, he whirled around and grabbed for the tail of the breeze and … caught it! As quickly as that he was on some critter’s back and riding it like a blurgg. 

It tried to toss him and turn and buck and plunge and do whatever it took to get Grogu off it’s back, but that critter had no idea how much Grogu wanted that speeder/scooter and he was not about to let go of any critter holding the filter piece in it’s jaws. 

“Dank Farrik! Fennec, what the heck is going on down here?”

Uh oh! It was his dad. No time for messing around. Grogu focused on the task at hand and yanked the filter out of the critters mouth and then did a beautiful backflip off it’s hairy hide.

He trotted out of the cabinet and held the cartridge out to Fennec, who handed it to the droid who thanked her in a toneless voice. 

“Hey, Mando, just doing a little maintenance. Your kid’s been a big help, as usual.”

Grogu smiled at the grin on Fennec’s face. She wasn’t wrong. He had been a big help.

“Good. Glad to hear that. Come on Grogu. The Daimyo wants to take you shopping in Mos Eisley. He said new speeder/scooters arrived and he said you’ve earned one with all the helpful things you do around here. He just said no purple ones. He can’t abide that color for some reason. Come on. Let’s go.”

Grogu finally understood the attraction of the Darkside of the Force. One day he would get even with Fennec Shand. One day.

NOTE: If you know which episode this photo is from please comment. I checked them all (too quickly) and didn't find it. Thanks.