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tadpolesonalgae · 2 months

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[ask is at the end, sorry not so sorry for such a huge block of text TT]

Hey Tabby! first off let me let you know that I fucking love and adore you and your stories sooo effing mucchjhh, likee aaah I'm frothing at the mouth just thinking about them. i love the way you write and breath life into your stories and characters(ironically, I haven't read cbmthy yet, which seems to be your most loved and talked about work but I can't wait to read it sooon)

well anyway, I wanted to ask you about the first time you read the first book (ACOTAR) and what you'd thought of it and what your first thoughts of Rhys were? did you know that feyre would end up with him before you started the book? or did you go into it blind? and if you didn't know they'd end up together, were you rooting for them by the end of it? did you feel like you were the only one that saw something bwn them? and you weren't sure if sjm was actually hinting at something or if you were simply being delusional? because this was exactly what went through my head when I first read the book and I'd love to know your thought process through the books tooo. honestly, even when she escaped to the night court in the second book, before she explicitly stated that she did not love tam anymore or something along those lines, I was still unsure/scared that Feysand wasn't going to happen 😭 and that this would just be written as a tiny hiccup in Feylins story and Rhys would just be like, some kindof rebound guy(haha lol yea) that would make her realise her love for Tam or whatever bs I see soooo often in movies these days(especially those hallmark ones, no shade to anyone who enjoys them tho,ily) and now I just want to laugh at my past self lol. I'd love to know your thoughts, thankyouu💗💗💗

—🫀(ps, that's my heart that swells up a little extra each time you post 🥹🤌🏻✨)

Hello hello!!🧡💛 Thank you so much 🫂🫂🫂☹️

‘(ironically, I haven't read cbmthy yet, which seems to be your most loved and talked about work but I can't wait to read it sooon)’

Gosh, I hope you aren’t disappointed by it—just as a heads up it might be a little slow in parts but I hope you enjoy it :) Hopefully it’ll be easier since if you do decide to read it, you’ll be able to skip onto the next chapter quickly and it won’t drag too much 🫤🧡💛

Oooh okay, so I originally didn’t have an interest in reading—acotar was the second book series I ever reader, after shadow and bone, which was the first book I’d read that wasn’t compulsory reading in some way—but one day my friend and I were in the library joking around, and she mentioned chapter 55 (because again, I didn’t know anything about books, or the jokes within the fandom) and she was telling me how it was a whole thing, and if you say chapter 55, everyone knows what scene it is, and I ended up just taking the book (acomaf) off the shelf and reading chapter 55 on its own 🫢

It wasn’t until about a year later that I actually read acotar, but I’m pretty sure I remembered feysand’s mating bond? But again, I had no idea what that meant so I don’t think it impacted my read that much?

I will say, I have a breathing problem that kicks up every once in a while, and I remember liking Rhys so much in the first book and being so flustered my heart was beating so quickly I was struggling to breathe for a good few minutes and had to step outside 😭😭 we still sometimes joke that he nearly killed me 😳🤦

(I loved him being cold, and cruel, and kind of flirtatious 🫢😳)

As for whether I knew Feyre and Rhys would get together, or whether I was routing for them, I actually can’t pin point when I got so immersed in acotar? I definitely liked Rhys’ character from the beginning, and I think Feyre grew on me more throughout the story :)

I never hated Tamlin though—I think that might have been aided by kind of knowing Rhys and Feyre would get together, and acotar didn’t seem like a series that would have a sad ending? It felt too fantasy to do anything super serious if that makes sense, so I was content to just go along with the ride and see where the story went :)

Also, again it might have been because I kind of knew Rhys and Feyre would end up together, but if Rhys really was the big bad villain he was made out to be in the first book, I think it would have been poor writing to show him to us so early on in the book? I think villain’s are much scarier when they’re kept in mystery, like how dragons or monsters will sometimes be silhouetted in thundercloud to show their outline, or how sometimes in games you’ll see a massive tail slither away under water without showing you the full creature because the Thing your imagination creates will always be so much worse :)

‘I was still unsure/scared that Feysand wasn't going to happen 😭 and that this would just be written as a tiny hiccup in Feylins story and Rhys would just be like, some kindof rebound guy(haha lol yea) that would make her realise her love for Tam’

I mean to be fair, I don’t really watch films or tv shows at all anymore, and until acotar I hadn’t read many books so I think I might have been oblivious to those tropes/cliches which is why I wasn’t worried that Feyre would go back to him? It probably could have been done, that they reconciled and Tamlin had a redemption, but I think that would have changed the whole tone of the book series so I am really glad that didn’t happen and we got to meet the IC :)

Thank you so much for writing in!! I think it can be so fun to read a book, or something to that degree, then rereading it and spotting all these new details that hint at what will happen in the future? Also seeing what people thought on their first read through, then perhaps how they changed gradually is always so interesting to hear? Also getting to watch as someone reads through a book for the first time and hearing what they think as they go through it—especially if it’s a book you like—can be such a bonding experience 🧡💛

#🫀 anon <3 #🫀#acotar

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nightwang96 · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, SladeRobinWeek 2020, Day 2: Merfolk, I know nothing about boats, and you can tell, ambiguous ending Series: Part 2 of SladeRobin Week 2020 Summary:

'“Deathstroke,” Bruce said finally.

“What?”

“That’s what he’s called. Or at least what we call him anyway.”

Dick’s head was swimming. He’d heard of mers being given names before, usually old mers who showed up in the same places over and over. But he’d never heard of Deathstroke.'

For the SladeRobin Week prompt Merfolk.

Dick had seen mer before. It was pretty unavoidable when you spent as much time on the ocean as Dick did. Most sailors didn’t particularly care for mers. They were inquisitive, smart creatures that enjoyed interacting with humans, but this often led to mishaps. Mers had been known to grab things off of ships, to tangle rudders and even sink smaller boats. They never hurt anyone on purpose, as far as they were aware, but often they couldn’t help it.

Dick had never really had a problem with them. In fact, he quite liked the mer. He liked to watch them streak through the water beside the ship, playing in the surf, breaching the water with a flick of their powerful tails. He liked listening to their curious chitters, and on rare occasions, the beautiful sound of their songs.

He never tried to interact with them though. That was always a recipe for disaster. Bruce had told him once about a young crewmate who had reached out to touch a mer’s tail and instead had been dragged into the water by the creature. According to Bruce, it had looked like the mer had only wanted to play, chittering excitedly as the crew desperately tried to pull him back on board. It had let him go once he had drowned, perhaps no longer interested once he had stopped moving, and they had managed to drag his body back onto the ship.

Bruce told the story often, not to incite violence against the mers, but as a cautionary tale. They were wild creatures, and though they looked like humans, they were not. They were something else entirely, and they were dangerous. You were better off leaving them alone.

Dick had been a crewmate on Bruce’s ship ever since his own parents had been murdered by pirates when he was eight. Bruce had taken him in, given him a job, and saved his life. He’d been sailing with him ever since, and in all that time, he’d never forgotten Bruce’s warning.

So when he saw the mer, floating quietly a little ways away from Dick’s post, he’d simply watched, curious. The mer was huge, easily the biggest one he’d ever seen, with a thick tail covered in gleaming orange and black scales. He was drifting on his back, white hair fanned out around his head, and Dick realised that he was missing an eye, thick scars a tangled mess over the socket. The mer was watching him too, gaze sharp as he lazily kept pace with the ship.

Dick was tempted to call someone over, maybe Jason or Tim, so that they could see the mer too, but something stopped him. Most mers tended to hang out in pods. They were incredibly social, and those that were alone tended not to draw attention to themselves, keeping away from boats and humans.

This mer was definitely not in a pod, or at least, hadn’t brought his pod with him to check out their ship. Dick slunk closer, leaning his elbows on the edge of the ship so he could try to get a better look. The mer tilted his head, turning over slowly to swim a little closer.

“What are you doing alone out here?” Dick murmured. The mer couldn’t understand him. They mostly communicated through chitters and clicks, and occasionally, wordless songs that carried across the salt air.

The mer made a strange clicking noise in his throat, and splashed his tail a little. Dick grinned, and the mer tilted his head, before peeling his lips back in an imitation of a smile, showing a row of sharp, deadly teeth.

“Yo Dickface! Get over here!” Jason’s shout obviously startled the mer, because with a flick of his tail, he dived beneath the dark waters, disappearing from view. Dick was a little disappointed, scanning the waves for any sign of it before giving up with a sigh, and going to see what Jason wanted.

He’d forgotten all about the mer by the next time he saw it. Orange flashes had caught his attention, bringing him over to the edge of the ship to peer into the frothing waters. The mer poked his head up, and Dick almost fell back on his ass, letting out a surprised laugh. The mer grinned at him, rolling over to float on his back, tail twitching.

“Hello again,” Dick said softly, pleased for a reason that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The mer chittered back at him, eye half closing, face turning towards the afternoon sun. Dick watched him for a long moment as the mer sunbathed, examining the pattern of his scales, and the litter of scars that were dotted across the mer’s torso.

“You’re a fighter hm,” Dick said. Mers often got involved in territorial disputes so it wasn’t unusual to see scars, but this many? Dick couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had he been forced from his pod? Bullied? Hunted? Were those scars from other mers, or humans?

There were people who would kill a mer. Either to protect their ship, or to prevent them from overfishing certain areas, or for their meat and scales, or even simply because they found them annoying. Dick had always found it distasteful. Mers were intelligent, beautiful creatures, and the thought that some people would kill them simply because they got in the way, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The mer seemed to sense his souring mood, because he sunk a little in the water, tail flicking in agitation. He chittered loudly and splashed a little, and Dick stepped back enough to avoid getting sprayed.

“Wow look at that thing.”

Dick had been so distracted, that he hadn’t noticed Jason coming up behind him. He spun around, the insane urge to hide the mer from view making him step in front of Jason.

“What are you doing here?”

Jason gave him a look, like Dick had grown an extra head. “I’m doing my job. Obviously you have more important things to be doing.”

Jason leaned over to get a better look at the mer, whistling when he eyed the thick, muscular tail. “That thing could probably do some serious damage.”

“It seems pretty docile,” Dick defended, not sure why it was so important that Jason not think badly of the mer.

“Docile? Have you seen the scars on it?” Jason made a sharp gesture and the mer, who had been watching him carefully, gave an agitated hiss, teeth bared.

Jason stepped back, discomfort clear on his face. “That thing is dangerous Dick. Leave it alone and get back to your job.”

Shooting him a glare, Jason gave one last assessing look to the mer and then stomped away. Dick sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Jason was right. The mer seemed docile and friendly, but he was a wild creature. He was unpredictable.

A soft chitter drew his attention back to the mer. He was almost within touching distance of the ship, gaze sharp as he eyed Dick. A swish of his tail, lifted him up in the water, and for a moment Dick was tempted to lean down and meet him halfway.

“I’m sorry,” Dick croaked, even though the mer couldn’t understand him. He turned away, and hurried across the deck, trying to put all thought of the mer from his mind. Dick would forget all about it, and the mer would lose interest, and everything would be fine.

Dick was woken by a haunting song, drifting through the salt air. He listened for a long moment, blinking into the dark of the cabin, an indescribable emotion swelling in his chest. Then he pulled his boots on and made his way up onto the deck.

Bruce was stood at the wheel, a dark shadow in the soft moonlight. He turned to look at Dick as he came up beside him, face drawn and serious.

“What’s that noise?” Dick asked, hushed. The melody was louder now, out in the open. It was beautiful and sad, and Dick wanted to close his eyes and fall into the smooth, low tones.

“It’s a mer,” Bruce said, just as quietly. His grip was tight on the wheel, eyes gleaming as he scanned the mirror glass surface of the water.

“You’re worried.”

Dick knew that Bruce was wary of mers, but he hadn’t realised that he would be so concerned, just hearing the song. Bruce had seen mers hundreds of times, and never looked like this.

“How many times have you heard a mer sing?” Bruce asked, and Dick was confused by the subject change.

“I don’t know, once maybe?” Once in the wild at least. It had been much more distant than this, higher and still beautiful, and far enough away that there was no hope of seeing the mer that was singing. Later that night there’d been a storm. Two ships had been lost at sea. Dick had been lucky that they’d made it out alive.

Bruce’s gaze was heavy. “Hearing mer song is never a good sign.”

Dick had never taken Bruce to be superstitious, but then Bruce had far more experience with mers than Dick did. His stomach squirmed, anxiety creeping beneath his ribs, as he scanned the horizon. Somewhere out there, somewhere close, was the mer, its mournful song echoing across the waters.

Tim appeared beside him, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, closely followed by Jason. “What’s going on?” Tim asked, voice thick.

“It’s a mer,” Dick parroted.

Jason shot him a look. “You don’t think it’s that mer that’s been hanging around do you?”

Dick hadn’t even thought of that. This bone-chilling melody, echoing through the still night, was so far removed from the mer that Dick had seen, that he hadn’t even equated the two together.

“What mer?” Bruce snapped, his focus suddenly laser sharp on Dick and Jason.

Jason shrugged. “It was some big, scarred up mer. Dick was messing about with it the other day.”

“I wasn’t messing about with it!” He knew better than to mess around with mer. He’d just been watching it, talking to it a little. That was all. “It was just kind of, floating around by the boat. It didn’t do anything.”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Yeah, once I guess. Why?” Dick got the feeling that he was missing something. Mer hung around the boat all the time, they were harmless for the most part. He didn’t get why Bruce was so bothered by this.

The music cut off suddenly, and Bruce’s jaw tightened, ignoring Dick in favour of scanning the waters again. The silence was almost eerier than the music had been, only the soft sounds of the wind and the gentle lap of the water as the ship cut through the surface.

There was a bang and the ship shuddered through a hit, rocking with the force of it. Dick cried out, startled, and staggered not to lose his footing. The rest of the crew spilled out from their quarters, shouting in alarm and hurrying to their posts.

“What the fuck?” Jason shouted.

“There,” Bruce said, pointing into the dark. Dick squinted into the water and, yes there, a flash of orange, the surface of the water breaking. It was the mer. But what was it doing? Another thud, and the boat listed like it was riding a wave. Dick couldn’t believe the sheer power behind it, the strength it must take to rock the ship like this.

Bruce grit his teeth. “It’s going to bring the whole ship down.”

Dick ran to the edge, leaning over to try and get a proper glimpse of the mer. Behind him Bruce shouted in alarm, but Dick ignored him. If he could just get the mer’s attention, maybe calm it down, then maybe it would stop attacking the ship.

“Hey,” he called out. The wind whipped at his hair, his clothes, carrying his voice out into the water. Another thud, followed by an ominous groaning sound. Dick gripped the edge of the ship for all he was worth, riding out the shudder. If the mer kept hitting the ship like this, it would breach the hull. The whole ship might sink.

“Hey, stop! It’s okay!” he called again.

“What are you doing you idiot?” Jason shouted, close behind him.

Dick ignored him, leaning a little further over, and there just beneath him, orange scales and then a flash of white hair. The mer floated up to the surface, his one sharp eye fixed intently on Dick. And that was good, as long as it was focused on him it wasn’t destroying the ship. Dick smiled and the mer smiled back, sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

The mer disappeared, diving beneath the waters. Dick scanned the still surface for a long, anxious moment. Then the mer was breaching, lunging up towards him, and Dick pulled back in surprise, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the grab, the mer’s sharp claws digging into his wrist, dragging him out over the edge of the ship.

For a moment, Dick seemed suspended in motion, too surprised to scream as he fell overboard. Then hands grabbed the back of his trousers, halting his fall, and more hands gripped the back of his shirt, his hips, hauling him backwards. The mer bared his teeth, snarling furiously and tugged painfully on his wrist. Blood dripped down his arm and splashed onto the mer’s cheek, but the mer didn’t even seem to notice.

Then Bruce was there beside him, leaning over the edge to thrust a pike down at the mer. It twisted away, but the sharp end still caught its shoulder, and it shrieked in pain. A great heave, and Dick was falling backwards onto the deck, the mer releasing him with a howl. He collapsed in a tangle of limbs, heart racing, the blood roaring through his ears.

“You fucking idiot!” Jason was yelling, but he was still holding onto Dick, hands grabbing at his shirt as though Dick could slip away at any moment.

Dick leaned back against him, gasping in desperate breaths. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to being overboard, in the water with a mer. Tim crouched beside him, hands fluttering in the air.

“What was that?” Tim’s voice was high pitched, strained. “Why did it grab you?”

The hits on the boat had stopped, maybe because the mer had lost interest, maybe because it had failed to grab Dick, maybe because Bruce had injured it. Bruce himself was a taut line in front of him, pike still clenched in his fists.

“I don’t know,” Dick gasped. “It’s never done anything like that before!”

“Deathstroke,” Bruce said finally.

“What?”

“That’s what he’s called. Or at least what we call him anyway.”

Dick’s head was swimming. He’d heard of mers being given names before, usually old mers who showed up in the same places over and over. But he’d never heard of Deathstroke.

“Why Deathstroke?” Tim asked.

“Because he’s dangerous,” Bruce turned to look at him then, and his face was pale in the moonlight. “He’s got a reputation for attacking ships, sinking them, and then slaughtering anyone in the water.”

He hadn’t felt malicious, when he was drifting lazily beside the ship, but then again, he had just attacked them.

“I’ve never heard of him grabbing people off the ship before though.”

Jason snorted behind him. “Trust it to be you Dick.”

“But I didn’t do anything. Bruce I swear,” Dick said. All he’d done was watch it, talk to it a little. The mer couldn’t even understand him.

“Jay go check if there’s been any damage done. The rest of you can go back to bed,” Bruce said, rubbing his temple like he had a headache coming.

Dick clambered to his feet, feeling strangely unsteady. Tim hovered by his elbow, hands out like he was worried Dick was gonna fall.

“I’m fine,” Dick said, giving Tim a wry smile.

“You’re bleeding.”

Huh. Dick had forgotten about that. Now that Tim had pointed it out, his arm was throbbing, bleeding all over his shirt from punctures and scratches in his skin. He examined the deep claw marks with a morbid curiosity. Mers were predators after all, and their claws were huge, and sharp enough to rend the flesh from your bones.

“It’s not too bad,” he said, but he let Tim fuss over him anyway, cleaning and dressing the wound.

When he climbed back into bed, he found himself thinking again of the mer. Why try to grab him? Had it been trying to drown him? Kill him? He’d thought that the mer had liked him.

It was an uneasy, restless sleep that night.

He didn’t see the mer again for a couple of days, and he’d been watching out for him. He’d hoped to catch a glimpse of him during the day, maybe try and see if the mer was hostile, or if he was back to his lazy curiosity.

When the mer did return, it was night again, and Dick was awake, taking a turn keeping watch. Orange scales caught the moonlight, and Dick was instantly alert, heart racing. The mer’s head broke the water surface, his gaze unerringly meeting Dick’s and the mer tilted its head and chittered, splashing his tail. Dick edged closer, cautiously and the mer reached towards him, as though beckoning him. Dick stepped back instinctively, shaking his head, and the mer bared its teeth with a strangled hiss.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, just as the mer lunged down, smashing against the hull of the boat with his tail. The cabin door flew open and then Bruce was running towards him, Jason and Tim hot on his heels.

“It’s back?” Bruce snapped, then grit his teeth as another smash resonated up the hull He grabbed up his pike and rushed to the edge, peering over in an attempt to get the mer in his line of sight.

“It’s going to sink the ship,” Tim said quietly, and Dick realised suddenly that he was right. Under the water, it was almost impossible to hit the mer, and the ship couldn’t take the repeated battering. He moved to stand beside Bruce, chest clenching at the older man’s expression, fear and grim determination.

“Get away from the edge,” Jason snapped. “It’s you it wants.”

Dick blinked, Jason’s words sinking into his brain. Dick wasn’t sure if giving the mer what it wanted would stop it from attacking the boat, or killing the rest of the crew, but at this point they were kind of out of options. The ship groaned and shuddered, and they couldn’t even see the mer, let alone hit it. If they didn’t do something, they were all dead anyway.

Dick climbed up onto the edge of the ship. Bruce made a startled noise beside him, and as Dick dived, he made to grab him, fingers brushing against Dick’s ankle. The water, when he hit it, was ice cold, stealing the breath from his lungs. He kicked up to the surface, looking up at the ship as the waves buffeted him.

Jason was yelling, leaning over the edge, and Bruce was holding him back, face devastated. For a moment they tussled together, shouting, until Tim grabbed Jason around the middle and Jason slumped in his hold.

The water broke in front of Dick, the mer breaching the surface to regard him with a tilted head. Bruce shouted something, but Dick couldn’t hear what he said, all of his focus on the dangerous creature in front of him. His teeth chattered, fear flooding his veins, instincts telling him to swim away fast. But that would be pointless. The mer was faster, stronger, deadlier, than Dick. He just had to pray that whatever happened, if he was killed now by the mer, that the ship would be safe. That his family would be safe.

The mer chittered, swimming close enough that Dick could reach out and touch him if he wanted. Dick was treading water as the mer floated in front of him, and Dick couldn’t tell what exactly the mer wanted. Tentatively, he brought a hand up. The mer copied the movement, touching their fingers together.

Dick smiled, and the mer grinned back at him.

#sladerobinweek2020 #day 2: merfolk #dc #dick grayson #slade wilson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #merfolk au #fanfiction #my writing #ambiguous ending

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skaiatemple · 4 years

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July 23rd is the Festival of Heart!

If you follow as a practitioner of Pop Culture Paganism, a user of Homestuck inspired Chaos Magic, or just want to use your favorite series to inspire you throughout the year, Skaia Temple is your resource center!

Whether you want to just celebrate it on the day, use it as a date for empowered energy, integrate it into your more mundane celebrations, or just appreciate your favorite characters and concepts this month, we have suggestions for whatever path you want to take with us!

Read below the cut for a condensed idea & resource list for this month of Heart!

Aspect Centered

Celebrate the Aspect in all its glory if you’re all about on celebrating the Festivals for exactly what they represent: The Aspect and all the traits associated with it.

“Forging an identity is extremely important to the Heart-bound, and every decision and action goes toward building a coherent narrative of their own story.”

Heart is about the Self, the Soul. If Life is about self care, Heart is about caring for the self. It’s often discouraged to be selfish about our own needs, but sometimes its just what we might need or deserve. If Blood is about community, Heart is about finding out who you are in it.

Sometimes the strongest weapon we can have is being ourselves completely unabashedly. Whether this means holding your own in conflict, or keeping yourself steady when nothing else is so. We need to be able to have a grasp on ourselves to truly understand how and why we need to grow.

Maybe there’s some facets of your personality you suppress for some reason that you need to learn to let loose, maybe you can find a new or more genuine way to express yourself, or maybe all you need to do is let those around you know that its you who knows yourself best.

This month is for being yourself.

Magical Inspiration

If you want to use Homestuck concepts more abstractly and need some ideas for what brands of magic would work best for the season, if you have an Aspect or character-themed spell, feel free to send it in so it can be added to this section!

Shadow work during Doom was more about making peace with yourself, but doing it during Heart season would be more about wielding it like a sword. Or shitty katana- Another side of it could be glamour magic, both for confidence or just when you need someone to see a specific facet of yourself for any reason. The main idea for now is to make sure your inside feelings match your outside actions.

Love and Romance also arent out of place for something about self-nourishment. Here is a Nepeta themed Romantic Luck spell for the occasion as well!

Integration Route

For people in the broom closet who are too timid or anxious to celebrate the Festivals openly- you can always integrate the Aspects traits to fit in with the more common trends and holidays of the month. Not even Hussie is is Homestuck God, no one will mind!

Appropriately, there are no major traditional holidays in this season, at least not in America. Maybe you could look up some minor holidays and find some that resonate with you and set forth celebrating them unabashedly and with full force- or maybe you could just make it a month where you celebrate You. Make the whole Heart season your Unbirthday Month. (In the event that your birthday is within this season, Happy Birthday! And I hope you have a even happier Unbirthday pt2)

The start of August marks Lammas, celebrating summer harvests, specifically grains- doesn't baking heartshaped bread sound pawsitively adorapurr?

Fandom Driven

For if you’re not all about spirituality or routine and just want to enjoy going all-out with a beloved story & characters, you can honor the ones of this month by driving full-throttle on the fandom bandwagon.

Heart is the Aspect for the Leijons. Some very underappreciated girls who never seem to catch a break. They’re strong beautiful ladies whose voices often go unheard through fear, manipulation, or ill timing to be able to speak out in all of their unique, creative, colorful glory. They show all the best parts of the Heart Aspect, pure timid selves who need only the chance and support to be able to shine brightly light everyone deserves to get to. Look at them and keep in mind that you deserve to express yourself in every way you want to.

It’s also the Aspect for the infamous Dirk Strider, and however you feel about whatever iteration of this walking identity crisis, he too embodies his Aspect strongly. He’s on a constant search to find his self and purpose, and so shows us the darker side of when we might try to change everyone else around us to better fit the picture we’ve painstakingly made to justify who we’re trying to be. Be it admiration, pity, or mouth frothing rage, look at Dirk and remember that whatever path we walk, we should be able to find one that allows us to walk in pace with everyone else that we so care about, and that has to be done with empathy, not anxiety and micromanaging. Stan Dirk.

Draw art, write fic, post analysis’ and/or callout posts for these big bright (inwardly and/or outwardly) characters this season!

We hope you got some ideas for activities you can do with your friends or otherwise use to inspire and better yourself this month. Everyone plays the game of life differently, and everyones beliefs are their own. Celebrate yourself as you see fit, and Thanks for Playing with Us.

~Mod Bee

#festivals #heart guide #heart aspect

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spoon-writes · 4 years

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Ends of the Earth | Chapter 10

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 10 - Search and Rescue

Life was waking between the boulders in preparation for the coming dawn. A colorful lizard darted across the warming rocks, freezing for a moment when it saw Sinead and the Mandalorian before disappearing behind a tuft of coarse grass that grew from cracks in the stone. A small, shrunken tree clung to an outcropping with purple leaves rustling in the wind. The trunk was black, making it look charred and wholly out of place amidst the white rocks.

A small avalanche of pebbles followed them downwards. Sinead tried keeping an eye out for any sign of Mirian but she really had no clue what to look for. As they ran, a sound of rushing water grew louder and louder, echoing between the rock walls. More trees and shrubs appeared growing from whatever dirt they could find.

They rounded a corner and stopped in front of a frothing river that cut through their path. White water splashed over rocks that broke through the water, creating wild eddies that pulled whatever had the misfortune of landing in the water into a wild spin. Mirian was stupid, but not stupid enough to try to cross. If she had so much as stepped a foot in the river she’d been swept away, to either drown on the bottom or be crushed against the rocks.

Two logs made a narrow bridge across the rushing water. The ends sank into the banks on each side and the wood was covered in slimy algae.

Sinead went first on the bridge. Her feet slid on the wet wood, and she breathed deeply through her nose, keeping her eyes locked on the opposite bank, which suddenly seemed miles away. Ice cold spray hit her face, keeping her grounded. Water washed over the bridge, soaking through her boots.

On the other side of the river the ground was soggy and clear footprints led further south. There was more vegetation here and signs of animal life.

Suddenly, the trees and the rocks fell away like someone had plucked them from the ground. Mando and Sinead stood at the edge of a patchwork of fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. Ancient stone dikes carved up every field, white stone glowing in the pre-dawn light.

The settlement nestled into a bend in the river, a dark spot in the green landscape where thin wisps of smoke disappeared up into the morning air. Two dirt roads led out of the city, one going across the river and disappearing east and the other carving through the fields to the west.

“If I was a young girl desperate to prove myself,” Sinead said and wiped some sweat from her brow, “I’d start by finding the nearest town.”

"There'll be guards."

“It’s bound to be more exciting than wandering the wild.”

Mando’s looked up at the brightening sky. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said with a hollow voice. “Let’s just keep out of sight.” He didn’t need to tell Sinead that. She could blend into most crowds- her survival depended on it- but the Mandalorian stood out everywhere he went.

They started towards the settlement. Knee-high stalks still wet with dew ran in straight lines and the air was filled with a sweet earthy scent. Stiles that looked as old as the stone dikes made their way across the fields a bit easier.

The settlement was bordered by farmhouses, low buildings made of white rock that had turned grey by dirt. A herd of big, hairy creatures watched Mando and Sinead with drooping eyes.

The houses grew closer after the first couple of streets, turning from dirt roads into uneven cobblestone. It smelled of woodsmoke, and Sinead could hear people inside the houses moving around, but the streets were still empty.

Suddenly, Mando froze and gestured to Sinead to get down. She barely had time to duck behind a pile of damp firewood before two black-clad figures strolled down the street, two rifles swinging from their arms.

“Can’t believe Commander Rancor-Dick has stationed us out here in the ass-end of nowhere,” said one of the men.

“Ranick’s always been a tightass, but this shit’s made him bloody paranoid. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna storm a place like this.” The other figure rolled up his mask and spat on the logs. Sinead made a face.

“Kriffin’ idiot.”

They waited until the guards were out of earshot before moving carefully down the street.

“Look,” Mando said and stopped in front of a wall covered with peeling and sun-bleached posters. “Gatt said the Collective keeps a tight hold on the planet.”

“Explains why the streets are empty,” Sinead said. The word ‘curfew’ screamed out at her in angry red letters.

They continued onwards, keeping to the shadows. Many of the houses were dark and abandoned and broken glass or trash littering the streets. They passed the burnt-out remains of a house, a dark husk of charred beams and crumbling outer walls. Foliage had begun to encroach between the rubble.

They reached a wide street. Mando went first, crossing the lit street and ducking into a narrow alley on the other side. Sinead waited until he was safely out of the light before following him.

“Hey you!”

She froze fight or flight instincts rooting her to the spot in indecision before higher brain power resumed control and she turned and looked. A New Moon soldier stood at the end of the street. He was dressed in black like the two guards with a mask covering his face. There was an inexpertly painted white circle on his chest, the color running into the dark cloth. Most of her attention was drawn to the rifle he pointed directly at her, his finger hovering over the trigger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mando moved to step into the street.

“Stay back,” she hissed.

The soldier stepped closer. “Hey, I’m talking to you! There’s a curfew.”

Sinead looked at the ground and shuffled back. Her blaster burned in its holster. “I-I know that-“

“If you know that,” the soldier sneered, lowering his rifle an inch, “why aren’t you home with the other little dokmas, eh?” He reached for her. “Oi! Look at me when I’m-“

Mando darted out from the shadow and grabbed the guard, clamping a hand over his mouth and dragged him back into the alley. Sinead grabbed the soldier’s blaster rifle before it hit the ground. She followed them after casting a glance up and down the street.

Mando threw the soldier against the alley wall, using all his strength to keep him pinned. “A human girl,” he grunted, “have you seen her?”

The soldier’s eyes swiveled in their sockets and a muffled voice came out beneath Mando’s hand.

“Nod yes or no.”

The soldier shook his head as well as he could under Mando’s iron grip.

“Fuck.” Sinead shook her head and bit her bottom lip. What if Mirian hadn’t gone this way? What if she’d turned off and followed one of the roads or been swept away crossing the river?

Suddenly, the sound of marching feet made Sinead scramble farther into the darkness.

Mando grunted when the guard started squirming in his grip, eyes white in the darkness.

Sinead stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the rifle into the soft part of his stomach. “Don’t move,” she whispered.

Light flickered as four soldiers, dressed head to toe in black, marched down the street. One of them stopped at the mouth of the alley, an arm’s length from the trio hiding in the shadows. He stretched while scanning the area, holding his rifle loosely in one hand. Sinead held her breath.

“Oi! Tokker! Curfew’s about to end, we gotta get a move on,” came a shout from down the street.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming all right.” The guard hitched up his pants and disappeared from view.

There was a commotion behind her and she whirled around; the guard had gotten hold of a knife and struck it against Mando’s side where it was deflected by beskar, sparks lighting up the small space. Mando slammed into the guard, the knife sliding across beskar again.

Sinead rushed forward and grabbed the guard’s wrist, wrenching it back until there was an audible pop and his eyes went wide. The knife fell from his hand.

Mando grabbed it in the air and slammed it into the soldier’s throat, who slid slowly to the ground.

“You okay?” Sinead didn’t look at the corpse at their feet.

“Yeah,” Mando said, checking that his armor held up. “But we can’t stay here much longer. We need to get back to the ship.”

“I know, but we have to make sure she isn’t here.” Sinead didn’t want to imagine what Gatt would do if they returned sans her niece.

They followed the four guards, keeping to the smaller streets. The city was waking up with the sun; some of the shutters covering the small windows had been opened, showing sleep-weary people getting ready for the day.

Up ahead, the street opened up into a small square where narrow stalls clustered together in a seemingly random order and sun-faded lanterns hung low between rotted wooden poles; many of them had disintegrated, leaving behind a bare wire skeleton to sway in the breeze. The dark houses surrounding the square seemed to close in over the small space.

The four soldiers clustered around at the other end of the square, surrounding two figures laying curled up on the uneven ground. The biggest of the figures, an old man, hid his face in his cloak as blows from the soldiers rained down on him. The other smaller figure was likewise huddled on the ground, a shock of red hair making Sinead grab Mando by the shoulder.

"Mando-"

"I've seen her. Go right and distract them."

Sinead didn't stop to think. She ran along the right side of the square, the rifle heavy in her arms.

"Hey Tokker!"

The soldiers looked up.

"Who-"

A blaster bolt fizzled through the air and one of the men crumbled to the ground, a smoking hole in the middle of his chest.

Sinead stepped to the side as a blaster bolt hit the wall behind her, showering the ground with dust. She fired the rifle and the recoil punched a bruise into her shoulder. Another soldier let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground.

One guard jumped behind a flimsy stall while the last one started running, screaming into his comm-link. Sinead shot him in the back and sent him flying into a hand-drawn cart, flipping it over with a loud crash.

The last soldier fell backward with a smoking hole in his head.

Silence fell over the square. The old man carefully lifted his head.

“Get up,” Sinead said when she reached Mirian. She cast a worried look around. Someone was bound to have heard that.

The old man slunk away as Mando came running. “We gotta go,” he said, casting a glance behind him.

Sinead grabbed Mirian’s wrist and pulled her to her feet. Mirian didn’t complain but followed them as they ran for the nearest street leading out of the square.

A door opened and a human woman came out, taking one look at the trio before hurrying inside, slamming the door behind her.

They took a shortcut through a garden made up mostly of mud and weeds. Sinead kept glancing back, her ears prickled for any sign of guards coming their way. She threw the rifle into an uncovered well and pulled out her blaster. They stopped by a rain barrel and Sinead let out a deep breath.

Mirian’s face was streaked in dirt and she seemed to curl in on herself. “I didn’t mean to-“

Mando shushed her while Sinead hissed “quiet!”

There were shouts in the distance and the sound of heavy footfalls, a group of people moving down the street. There was a loud crash as a door was broken down and someone screamed.

They started running along a dilapidated fence until they found a gap big enough to squeeze through one after one. Raised voices came from a nearby house and something shattered.

Sinead was the first to head down a narrow alley, the sky only a sliver of light above her. Broken glass crunched under her feet. She could hear Mirian’s terrified breathing behind her.

A hulking figure appeared at the mouth of the alley. Sinead hit the ground, dragging Mirian down behind her.

A blaster bolt fizzled over her head and hit Mando in the chest, sending him stumbling back with a grunt.

Mirian screamed, her voice reverberated between the walls.

Suddenly, the alley was filled with blaster fire and howls of pain. Sinead got to her feet and squeezed the trigger. The figure fell to the ground but just as soon another took his place.

She threw herself to the side, colliding with the wall to avoid a blaster bolt.

The alley lit up in red again and again. The air smelled like ozone.

She stabbed the nearest dark figure, her knife getting twisted out of her hands as he fell.

Something collided with her back, sending her crashing to the ground. Broken glass cut into her skin as she twisted around and pushed the weight off her. The soldier rolled to the side, a trickle of blood seeping from his mouth.

She scrambled to get up when a boot connected with her ribs. Air left her lungs as she crashed into the ground, her mouth filling with dirty alley water.

Two meaty hands closed around her throat. A dark mask hovered above her, two red-tinted eyes glinting down at her. Putrid breath hit her face.

Her blaster was gone. She tore at his hands, but his grip grew stronger. Dark spots clouded her eyes.

There was a sickening thud and the soldier froze. He blinked once, blood flowing into his eyes.

He pitched forward. Sinead took a deep gulp of air and pushed him away.

Mirian stared at the board held raised in her hands. Her breath hitched.

The last soldier fell. The alley rang with silence.

Sinead got to her feet; broken glass tinkled as it fell from her tattered clothes.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“ Mirian tore her gaze from the bloody board to Sinead. Her chin quivered.

“No time,” Mando said, pulling Mirian to her feet in one fluid motion. “There are still more in the city.”

Sinead grabbed her blaster half pinned under a dead soldier, and they set into a sprint.

Sun broke over the horizon as they found a way out of the settlement. Stalks crunched under Sinead’s feet as she ran, breathing heavily through her nose. Her chest felt tight.

Mando helped Mirian over a stone dike where the stile had collapsed. Her hands had finally stopped shaking.

They were near the relative safety of the rocks which were painted golden in the early morning light, when Mando’s head snapped back to the settlement. “Get down,” he growled and threw himself flat against the ground.

Sinead and Mirian dove behind the nearest stone dike. Three speeder bikes shot out of the settlement, a tail of dust behind them. They followed the dirt road at breakneck speed.

Sinead held her breath as they passed. No one moved until the roar of the speeder bikes were gone.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Mirian’s voice shook as she grabbed the stone dike to haul herself to her feet.

“Just move,” grunted Mando, who kept an eye on the road as they hurried towards the mountain.

At last, they made it to the river. Sinead jumped on the bridge first, edging her way across. There wasn’t any sign of them being followed but still, she'd rather not stay for longer than strictly necessary.

Once her feet hit the ground on the other side of the river, a tiny bit of tension left her shoulders. A small strip of water wouldn’t be much of an obstacle for the Collective but it still felt better knowing there was something standing between her and the settlement.

Mirian scrambled down from the bridge, her eyes locked on the ground.

At last, the Mandalorian made his way across. Sinead could read the anger in his shoulders. Something hot and spiky unfurled in her stomach.

Mirian scraped the ground with the tip of her shoe. “I didn’t mean to-“

Mando and Sinead exploded at the same time.

“What the fuck were you thinking-“

“Do you realize what you’ve-“

“-of all the shortsighted, senseless-“

“-and for what? Being a-“

“-idiot girl, I hope your aunt locks you up in a goddamn cell if we ever get back, hopefully you won’t do any more harm from there.” Sinead’s face burned with anger.

Mirian looked at them with wide eyes, face frozen in fear or defeat.

Mando breathed heavily through his nose. “We go back to the ship. You don’t touch anything, you don’t say anything.” He stared Mirian down until she nodded.

Sinead rolled her shoulders, trying to reign back her anger. “Right. Let’s go.”

Sunlight glinted off the ship when they found their way back between the boulders. Suri walked in circles beside the open ramp, the child watching her solemnly from the opening. He was the first to notice them, babbling excitedly and waddling down the ramp.

Suri spun around, letting go of one of her lekkus. “You found her!”

The old man, Erno, came hurrying out of the ship. “You’re too late. The blockade is back online.”

“We know,” Mando grunted and grabbed the kid before he fell over in his haste to get to the Mandalorian.

“Place’ll be swarming with guards any minute. Is there anywhere we can go?” Sinead looked back the way they came. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could hear raised voices.

Erno twirled his hat in his hands. “There are caves on the other side of the mountain. They ain’t easy to navigate even if you know the area. I might be able to find one you can hide out in.”

“And then we do what? We can’t stay there forever,” Sinead said.

“We can figure that out later. Now we just need to get out of here,” Mando said.

They piled into the ship. The wounded rebel was sleeping in the bunk.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Mando said to Mirian, who shrunk at the words. Sinead would feel bad for her if this wasn’t solely her fault.

Mando disappeared up the ladder with Erno, and the ship turned on with a shudder.

Sinead sat down on the floor with her back against the wall, her side was burning. “You think we’re gonna get out of here?”

Suri grimaced and wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug. “I don’t know.”

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: sinead

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withickmire · 5 years

Text

Burning Cold

Fandom: Deltora Quest Summary: To have been loved less might have been a blessing.

This is how it begins:

You are treasured from the moment of your birth; the youngest of five children with doting parents. Your mother has sea-glass eyes and yellow hair that tickles your nose when she kisses your forehead. Your father has an easy laugh and calloused hands that he uses to gently twist your hair into plaits. Your brothers and sisters let you ride on their shoulders and tell you ghost stories that make you squirm with exaggerated fear. You run barefoot in the back alleys of Del, but eagerly attend to the studies your parents enforce.

Your name, your mother tells you, means ‘bright star’ in a Plains language that died out generations ago.

“My bright star,” she says, tapping your nose playfully. “My sweet Paff.”

Although your house is always warm and bright, the world outside your door is not always kind. A shadow fell upon Del when you were too young to remember. You have a large family, and although you are better off than some of your neighbours, there are days when there is not enough food on the table to nourish your growing body. But these days are rare, and you are too young to notice how your parents pull you closer when Grey Guards pass; too young to understand what your father means when he speaks of a coward called Endon.

Instead, you grow up. Your siblings tease you, but never unkindly. You play with the neighbourhood children and groan when your parents call you home for supper. Your childhood is simple, uneventful, and wonderfully happy.

Later, much later, you will wonder if this childhood had weakened you. You were loved, you were so loved. Had you not been so happy, you would have not fallen so far. Had you not known what it meant to love so deeply, you would have not have allowed hate to consume you so wholly.

This is how it happens:

Sometimes there is no warning, no reason. Your parents have never spoken out against the occupation. Your siblings are not friends with any of the dozens of youths executed for attempting to assault Grey Guards. Sometimes there is no reason at all.

They come in the night. You wake to the sound of deep, loud voices and stomping boots. You sit up in bed, frozen from shock and fear. Your two sisters awaken as well, and your eldest throws off her covers and grabs the heavy water jug from the dresser. She dumps the water onto the floor and hisses at you and Verlaine to hide. Before you can move, the door slams open and three Grey Guards enter your bedroom. With a cry, your sister swings the water jug at the closest Guard. He laughs and grabs her thin arm with a massive hand. She cries out as you still sit frozen in your bed. Without hesitation, another Guard draws his sword and plunges it into her belly. As if a spell has broken, Verlaine leaps from her bed to yours and gathers you into her arms. She holds you like that, even as the Grey Guards force you from the bed and towards the door. As you pass you see your eldest sister’s body crumpled on the floor. A gorge rises in your throat, and you cling tightly to Verlaine as horrified tears stream down your face.

Your family is on their knees in the living room. Your middle brother is bleeding from his nose and your father has a split lip.

“Alma…,” you choke out. “She is…”

“She is dead,” Verlaine finishes with a sob, and your mother lets out a terrible keen that you hear in your mind until the day you die.

Outside, the night sky is stained with pink as the sun begins to rise upon your thirteenth birthday.

The journey to the Shadowlands is long and hard. The Grey Guards feed you mouldy bread and hard cheese, washed down with a little water. Chains weigh down your body and your feet blister and bleed. Every footstep is an effort, but they set a quick pace and let you rest only enough to keep you upright on your feet. You want to cry all the time, but you are too thirsty to waste the tears.

One night you wake to your middle brother gently shaking your shoulder. The whites of his eyes glint in the moonlight.

“What is it, Neel?” you ask, as a shiver of fear travels up your spine.

“The Guards have gone to a stream to fill their flasks,” he whispers excitedly. “If we wake the others we might be able to run. But make haste, they will soon return.” He rises to his feet and the chains binding his hands clink as he walks over to your father. As he turns, you see the shapes of ten men moving swiftly toward you in the darkness.

“Neel!” you scream, but it is useless. One of the Guards raises an arm and throws something large and round. A blister, you realise, sick with terror.

The blister hits Neel’s back and bursts with a horrifying wet sound. Neel screams and falls to the ground, writhing in pain. The rest of your family wakes to the sounds of your brother’s dying screams. Your father staggers to Neel with a cry and Neel shrieks as he pulls him into his arms. Neel’s hands are stiff claws and he scratches at your father’s face, blind and mad with pain and fear. Slowly, Neel’s frantic movements slow and his screams weaken until he is quiet and still. Your father buries his face in your brother’s hair and you can see his shoulders shake as he weeps. Your mother is silent as she stares at her son, her face a twisted mask of anguish. You scramble on your hands and knees to your two remaining siblings and cling to their arms. Your oldest brother’s face is tight with rage and silent tears run down your sister’s. You look down at Neel, half-hidden by your father. His eyes are open and bloody froth stains his lips. Someone is panting loudly, and you realise that it is you.

“Get up, scum,” the Guard who killed your brother snarls. “It’s time to move.”

Your brother pulls you to your feet and you cling to him as hard as your chains allow. Something awful squirms in your belly, something cold and terrible that you do not yet understand.

You will become familiar with this feeling over the years. One day, not yet, the cold will invade your veins like a sickness, until it becomes what you eat and breathe. It will twist your mind until you can think and feel nothing else. This feeling will become your friend; your lover; your family. This, you discover, as you are dragged away from Neel’s twisted corpse, is hate.

Within two days you arrive at the Shadowlands.

You sleep in a large cell with what remains of your family, and at least thirty other people. The room is damp and the straw bedding is slimy under your skin. On the third night you wake screaming as a spider nearly the size of your fist crawls up your arm. A woman in the back of the cell cries loudly every night; huge, wracking sobs that make you want to shake her. Sometimes the Grey Guards pull you from the cell to perform seemingly useless acts of labour. There are no windows, and days and nights bleed into each other.

Months pass, perhaps even a year. Your days are filled with pain and fear. The crying woman is pulled from the cell one night and never seen again. These disappearances are not too uncommon. Whispers spread of executions, and worse, of the deaths of prisoners as a form of entertainment. You hear of the Vraal, a terrible monster that prisoners are forced to fight for the pleasure of the Shadow Lord. The only thing that keeps you from madness are the remains of your family. Your mother does not speak much anymore, but you understand by the way she strokes your hair that she is doing her best. Your father tells old stories you have heard dozens of times in your childhood, and your siblings devise games and jokes that sometimes manage to make you smile.

But this does not last.

It is daytime— or at least, you believe it is. You have slept through much of the day— you do that a lot, for there is little else to occupy your time. When the Grey Guards unlock the cell, you shrink back on instinct. There are four of them, and they scan the room as if looking for something. The one closest to you eyes your family in a way that makes you feel sick.

“How about these?” he nods to your father and Verlaine. “They look strong enough to put up a fight.”

Beside you, you can hear your sister’s breath in shallow gasps. You both know what those words mean. She screams as the Guard pulls her roughly to her feet.

“Verlaine!” you cry. You scramble towards her, clutching at the strong arms that hold her.

“Stop, Paff,” she pleads, tears streaming down her face. “You will make it worse!”

You do not let go, you cannot let go. Another Guard pushes forward and strikes you across the face. You fall back onto the floor, blood welling from your mouth where you bit down hard on your tongue. You watch numbly as the Guards pull Verlaine and your father out of the cell. Your father’s eyes stay on your mother until the door slams shut.

Your mother lies on the straw-bedded floor and curls into herself like a dying animal. You turn to Nic, your oldest sibling and now your last, and see your anguish mirrored in his eyes. He pulls you close and you feel him weeping into your shoulder. You know that you should be crying too. You know that you should feel sorrow. But instead you feel that sick and cold sensation once more. It spreads this time from your belly to your heart. The cut in your mouth pulses, but you do not feel the pain.

Years pass like this. Death and pain become routine. You become accustomed to violence and blood. You are older now than Alma ever got to be. You sometimes remember words like hope and happiness and warmth, but you cannot remember what it felt like to know them. The cold hate that lives inside of you is a constant companion. Your brother tries to coax you into smiling, and even your mother sometimes wakes from her haze to look at you with concern. You know you should tell them that you are fine, but you love them and you have never once told them a lie.

Rumours fly. Some say to keep hope, for Endon’s child has reclaimed the Belt of Deltora and has driven the Shadow Lord from the kingdom. You care not for these rumours and remember the words you had heard your father speak against the royal family. Even if this supposed new king is real, he cares nothing for his people who suffer and die far from home.

An illness spreads through your cell. The Grey Guards collect two bodies the morning after it strikes, and five more the next day. One night you wake to a terrible ache in your arms and legs. You try to sit up, but your body convulses and you fall back onto the straw. You manage to turn your head, and the room spins around you. You see your mother, lying beside you. She is awake, but her face is white and her hair is sweaty and limp. Her lips silently form your name, as if she does not have the strength to speak. Your vision fogs and you are pulled down by the darkness.

You do not know how long it has been when you next wake. The room still spins when you open your eyes, and you groan in pain. You force yourself to sit up, even as your arms shake and sweat pours down your back. You look over to where your mother sleeps and wish you had not. She is still, so still.

“Mother,” you croak, and drag yourself closer. It hurts to breathe, hurts to speak, hurts to be. Your mother’s eyes are half open and her lips are parted. A fly lands on her cheek and you wave it away.

No no no no no no no.

With a massive amount of effort, you roll onto your other side. Your brother too lies where he had been last time you were awake, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Nic?” you cry and shake his shoulder. “Nic, stop. Stop it, Nic, stop it, Mother. Please. Please, please, please. Stop it, stop it.”

You have not cried in years, but you cry now, painful sobs as you lean over Nic’s body and clutch your mother’s hand.

When your tears are dry and your heart is empty, you let them go and stagger to your feet. No one, you realise, has responded to your cries. You stare at the other occupants through the watery light that bleeds into the cell from a crack in the door. You do not hear the whimpers of the ill, or the gentle breathing of the sleeping. More than two dozen people lie in this room, and you are the only one left whose heart still beats. You fall onto your hands and knees and scream into the filthy straw.

The Grey Guards come to collect the bodies. They perform the task as if they are sitting in a pub: chatting and laughing as they drag the corpses away. When they move to take your mother and brother, you fly at them, spitting and screaming and scratching with your fingernails. They laugh, and you are shoved down to the floor. When all of the bodies are gone they shut the door and leave you alone in the darkness. You scream through the last of your fever, until your throat is ragged and raw and you are left with nothing but the taste of blood in your mouth.

You are alone for the first time in your life. Twice a day you are brought food and water. You say nothing to the Guards who come in, and you eat very little. You do nothing but sit against the damp wall and stare across the cell. You do not feel hunger or grief or fear. Days and days pass like this, until a new man brings you your meal. You know at once that he is not a Grey Guard—he is too thin, too tall. You wonder dully if he has come to kill you. You wonder if you care.

He kneels next to you, and you raise your head to meet his pale eyes.

“What is your name?” he asks, and patiently repeats the question three times when you do not respond.

“Paff,” you finally whisper.

“Paff,” he repeats, and you squeeze your eyes shut, remembering those who had once called you by that name. “I know what you are feeling. You grieve for what you have lost. You are afraid of what will come. You are filled with hate for what has happened.”

You meet his eyes again at his last words, and he smiles.

“The people of Deltora prosper under their new king,” he says “while you have faced horrors they could never imagine. Do you think that is fair?”

Your hands curl into fists, fingernails pressing into flesh. “No.”

He smiles wider. “They live in peace, while you have watched your family die, one by one. Do you think that is fair?”

Blood pounds in your ears. “No.”

“You feel hopeless right now. But you do not have to. I cannot bring your family back, but I can make it hurt less.”

“How?”

“I know how to help you get vengeance on those who did nothing while your family died. Would you like to know how?”

You try to remember the faces of your family, but all you see is red. You nod.

“Come with me,” the man says, and reaches out his hand. “There is someone who wants to meet you. Someone who can help.”

You take the offered hand and allow your heart to harden.

This is how it ends:

You have failed. You have lost. You can feel your Master’s disappointment vibrating in your bones.

You have nothing.

You are nothing.

The king stands above you, his dark eyes flickering as if he can find answers to the questions he keeps asking you etched on your face. He speaks but you hardly hear him.

Despair feels like drowning.

You want to gasp for air, but it is as if your lungs are blocked. You want to scream, but it is as if your throat has closed. You are heavy with exhaustion.

You had such hopes.

You tried so hard.

You are so tired, and you just to sleep. But there is one last task you must perform. You summon your last scrap of strength and lunge at the king. He cries out and tries to move away, but you want to die more than he wants you to live. Your hands touch the Belt of Deltora, and pain explodes in your fingers and travels hungrily down the length of your body. It is as if you are burning and freezing to death at once. Your body convulses and begs you to let go, but you do not. The death you have chosen is unbearable and all-consuming, but you will see it through. The pain tears through you and you scream. You scream for the agony; for the life you were denied; for the little girl who knew nothing of hate; for the woman who was consumed by it.

The world falls away.

#deltora quest #*jake peralta voice*: cool motive still murder #it's been so long! i don't remember how to write deltora quest!#i really wanted to write this in second person because paff is supposed to represent ~anyone~#i also can't believe i've never written her before #anyway thanks for reading all of this! i meant for it to only be a few hundred words <3 #paff #my writing

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summerseachild · 5 years

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Summersea’s GoT Season 6 Tumblr Spoiled First Time Watch 2019: Part 1

So I was going to rename this a “hatewatch” now that I’ve gotten to a whole season I hadn’t seen before, but let’s be honest. If you’ve seen me reblogging things from later seasons, it was never going to be that. There are things that I knew I was going to enjoy VERY MUCH, and I wasn’t wrong. There were also things that, if I let them, would have had me frothing a the mouth in rage.

But then I reminded myself that I’m vacationing in Castle Not Giving a Shit while I watch the back half of the show, and things were much better after that. I’ve mostly left my in the moment reaction except where I’d had too much wine to be coherent.

Season 6

Hot on the heels of season 5 i still have a third of a bottle of Chardonnay left let’s DO THIS

6x01

1. Lol it’s still in the credits so they continue to pretend like they care about Dorne????

2. Ghost howling 😢😢😢

3. So Davos went straight from staning one dour person to another... he has a type.

4. Some dude in the night’s watch re Melisandre: who’s she? Davos: oh just some lady Who spat a shadow out of her vag once LETS TRUST HER

5. Wow Olly aged a lot over the past five minutes since he killed Jon!

6. Edd please don’t die here. I don’t remember how you go but don’t let it be here

7. Boo hoo poor little psychopath lost his gf. No one cares, Ramsay. Myranda deserved what she got AND SO WILL YOU

8. My soul left my body like three times during that chase scene where Theon and Sansa are running from the Bolton men. POOR COLD BBS

9. That hug where they’re just CLINGING TO EACH OTHER THIS SHOULD NOT MAKE ME SHIP IT BUT HERE WE ARE

10. THEON SHOWING HIMSELF TO TRY TO KEEP HER SAFE I CANNOT HE KNOWS WHAT IT MEANS IF THEY CATCH HIM AND HE DOES IT ANYWAY SO SHE MIGHT HAVE A CHANCE

11. IT’S BRIENNE OF MF-ING TARTH OMG YAY

12. Also go Theon killing that dude

13. UGH THE SWEARING FEALTY SCENE WITH SANSA AND BRIENNE AND ALL OF THEIR FACES AND SANSA LOOKING TO THEON BEFORE ACCEPTING AND POD REMINDING HER OF THE WORDS IT IS PERFECT

14. Give me the AU where Theon lives and stays at Winterfell because he wants to be near her and they understand each other and Brienne is in her Queensgiard I AM NOT ASKING MUCH

15. Meanwhile in other trauma hi Cersei

16. UGH LOOK HOW SHE RUNS ACROSS THE COURTYARD TO SEE HER DAUGHTER

17. So... that scene with Jaime and Cersei where they talked about seeing Joanna’s dead body and she... Doesn’t blame him??? For Myrcella? Like I thought she would??? And she tells him about the prophecy??? And they hug??? Yeah that’s in contention for my fav Lannister twin scene ever? Top five at the very least. (And another member of the “Jaime writes his siblings’ dialogue” club.)

18. For all of his false kindness and gentleness the High Sparrow is just as bad as any of them, and When I’m not seething with anger I can appreciate how nuanced Jonathan Pryce’s performance is.

19. Wtf Ellaria and Tyene murdering Doran.

20. OMG TRYSTANE and I call Sand Snake Character Assassination here they are just SO BITCHY and without honor and the Dorneish are SO HONOR OBSESSED ugh why I hate it Also was that Myrcellas ship? Are there two bitchy Sand snakes just chilling in king’s landing now??

21. Tyrion and Varys among the people is kind of fascinating. Also what’s up with that Red Priest? Another who thinks the lord of light chose Dany?

22. Oh no the ships... Varys and Tyrion running TOWARD trouble says a lot about them.

23. Did the showrunners... forget Jorah would know the word Khalasar? Why would he say horde?

24. At least the Khals believe Dany is Drogo’s widow?

25. Ok so the waif is fascinating and her movements are just so... Succinct. A++ physical acting or whatever the word is.

26. Whoa that’s Melisandre without the necklace?? Cool story bro but why did she choose then to take it off? What does that tell us about her as a character or her powers? Just wanted to show some crone boobs? IDEK that was a weird ending.

6x02

1. The trailer reminds us that BRAN IS IN THIS SHOW

2. Remember this kid? He’s a Stark! He’s VERY IMPORTANT! He’s GONNA BE KING, but he wasn’t in all of season 5. He matters WE PROMISE.

3. The older generation of Starklings!!! I would be lying if I didn’t say seeing Lyanna and Brandon and Ned and Benejen And Nan and bb Hodor didn’t give me a LOT of feelings. (Also Bloodraven is the Worst Ghost of Christmas Past Ever.)

4. Cross fandom wish: I want to see Hodor, Groot, and Rocket have a conversation where everyone understands every word.

5. So... Meera and Summer have been hunting so that they all stay alive, right?? Otherwise WHAT ARE THEY EATING

6. Ok I take back what I said about them only having the Children once, but that was WEAK. “Help Bran, Meera. Because I said so and I’m a creepy magical person whose motivations are unclear”

7. YEAAAAAH WUN WUN SMASH THOSE TRAITORS. Good on you too Edd for taking charge.

8. Ugh every bar has one like that asshole talking about Cersei. And I don’t think he’s long for this world

9. I LOVE BEING RIGHT HI GREGOR

10. Why would Tommen keep Cersei away from Myrcella’s funeral. OH GODS HE WAS TRYING TO PROTECT HER.

11. Ugh Jaime is tired of keeping vigil over his dead family members GIVE HIM A BREAK

12. Also Jaime promising never to let Cersei be in a cell again while he’s there AAAAHHH YES 🦁 ❤️

13. There’s nothing more dangerous than a fanatic who fears nothing, Jaime. But him threatening the High Sparrow was made of sex.

14. SEVEN HELLS did Tommen just give Cersei the idea to blow up the sept

15. Dany’s council meeting in absentia is kind of neat. I was wondering how those crazy kids were doing.

16. Lol I drink and I know things is ABOUT TYRION KNOWING ABOUT DRAGONS 🐉 I DID NOT KNOW THAT AND I LOVE IT

17. Tyrion being like “please DO NOT EAT THE ALLIES (me)” to Viserion and Rhaegal is amazing

18. Viserion is all ME TOO LET ME GO HERE’S THE CHAIN SMALL HUMAN when he shows Tyrion his neck.

19. That was a rough test Jaqen

20. Yes Ramsay please march North I dare you

21. Roose KNOWS what Ramsay is and tries to steer him out of it but I don’t think he truly understands how deep the crazy goes

22. HOLY SHIT RAMSAY JUST STABBED HIS DAD and everyone either is too scared of Ramsay to do anything about it or was in on it. LOOKING AT YOU KARSTARK ASSHOLE

23. Oh Walda you sweet trusting soul he is going to feed you and your baby to those dogs isn’t he. I DON’T like being right. Have I mentioned that?

24. Brienne recognizing Sansa’s choices were hard ❤️❤️

25. Ugh Theon talking about all the things he’s done and Sansa hugging him anyway aaaaah my soul

26. It’s hard to hear someone else say they forgive you you when you don’t think you deserve forgiveness, and he’s definitely not ready to hear it from Jon. (But he’s ready to hear it from Sansa because of what they’ve been through together? I like that explanation and I’m sticking to it.)

27. Oh right Pyke exists the show doesn’t remember that unless it’s convenient.

28. HOW DARE YOU REFERENCE THAT PINECONES LINE SHOW YOU HAVE NOT EARNED THAT

29. Ok at least Yara cares about her people and we get to see it.

30. OMG Euron? He’s the one who kills Balon?

31. ...and he’s kind of got delusions of Grandeur? “I am the drowned god” wtf sir.

32. Gotta admit Iron Islands burial customs are kinda neat

33. We get the Kingsmoot? I’m listening, show... you’re on notice but I’m listening.

34. Depressed Melisandre is depressed. Wait... has she never done the raising from the dead thing? SEVEN HELLS SHE HASN’T.

35. A pep talk from Davos might snap me out of my crisis of faith too.

36. Thoros can do this in the language of Westeros, but I guess if Valyrian works for you...

37. I love Tormund peacing out of the room with Mostly Dead Jon like “I have had enough of this south of the wall bullshit”

38. Did Melisandre reach the lord of lights answering machine and it took him a while to get back? “If you would like to leave a resurrection request for R’hllor, please press one...”

39. Ghost’s eyes open AND SO DO JON’S hey bro

6x03 this episode is called Oathbreaker ARE WE ABOUT TO GET TO SEE THE FLASHBACK TO JAIME KILLING AERYS PLZ TELL ME

1. He liiiives! Poor Jon... what did you see while you were gone I wonder?

2. Oh jeez it was nothing. At least he has the most comforting sensible person in this series to help him through.

3. I like that Jon gets to come downstairs and HUG TWO OF HIS FRIENDS and none of the nights watch or the wildlings bat an eye or seem to think less of him for it. LET MEN HUG.

4. Oh jeez Sam’s taking Gilly and the baby to Horn Hill? Do we get to meet his mom? (No one cares about Randylll but I think we might get to meet him too?)

5. BB Sam is SO CUTE HE HAS HAIR NOW.

6. Wait is Gilly pregnant again?

7. That is the Tower of Joy and I AM NOT READY

8. HOLY SHIT HOWLAND REED KILLED ARTHUR DAYNE?

9. Sword of the morning indeed WHAT A BADASS (somewhere in my soul Jaime is waving an “Arthur Dayne Rocks” banner) there’s no way Ned could have won that fight without help and now Bran knows that??? I don’t really have anything interesting to say here I just love the idea of a kid getting to see the truth of a family story that’s radically different from what he thought he knew.

10. Past Ned HEARD BRAN? FASCINATING?

11. Oh right Dany is about to meet all of the other widows of the Khals this could be cool but knowing d and d it won’t be because it would involve treating WoC with nuance.

12. Not impressed so far.

13. So this girl Varys is meeting with is in league with the Sons of the Harpy? Good my memory is intact.

14. all this with Varys actually TRYING to take care of Meereen is fun...

15. Tyrion being like OMG I AM BORED PLZ TALK ABOUT SOMETHING to Grey Worm and Missandei is the most him thing ever. I feel you Bro. He’s a people person deep down and just wants to be friends so badly.

16. Qyburn with all of Varys’ little birds and making kids’ abusive parents disappear is PRECIOUS.

17. Don’t poke the Mountain, Jaime

18. LANNISTER MUSICAL CHAIRS PART 2 also Jaime is ON THE SMALL COUNCIL NOW??? Who gave book!Cersei three wishes??? Him actually being in her corner and working with her as a team must be like a wish come true...

19. “Grand Maester Pycelle would you sanction that starement?” 😂 Lena’s delivery of that line made me laugh so hard we had to rewind to hear the dialogue.

20. No no don’t leave the three of them together they’ll plan murder. Well, Cersei and Jaime will. Gregor will nod.

21. Tommen confronting the high sparrow fascinated me. He has some of the I WILL KILL YOU family traits on display here but it’s understandable given what his family has gone through at the high sparrows hand. I’d be threatening murder too if I were him.

22. What are you playing at mr high Sparrow? Because I don’t trust you farther than I can throw you, and I don’t even have a good arm.

23. The Hound was not on her list any more 😢 that whole scene with Arya recounting her life and learning to fight blind is NEAT.

24. Wait faceless men are immune to the poison in the water?? Cool.

25. Is that supposed to be Greatjon Umber’s son who refuses Jon? What an ass.

26. My wife adds, “THESE LOSERS are the people Sansa is supposed to be queen of?”

27. OH SHIT OSHA AND RICKON AND SHAGGYDOG HOW DID THAT EVEN HAPPEN? (Please let Sansa Find out who did that and who helped and give them what they deserve... there’s no way anyone took down that wolf alone.) I HATE THAT WE ARE NEVER GOING TO GET CLOSURE ON THAT PROBABLY.

28. Oh shit Jon has to hang the traitors that’s gonna be hard on him.

29. At least Alliser is consistent.

30. Jon did what he had to do... just like Ned in the first ep.

31. Wait WHAT did you just hang those men and then LEAVE? Isn’t leaving just as damaging to the order as killing the lord commander? That seemed overly quick and weird but ok????

32. Guess Jon was the Oathbreaker.

6x04

1. If anyone deserved an I JUST DIED crisis, it’s Jon. Also, the vows say, “it will not end until my death...” so technically...

2. Brienne got them up to the Wall QUICK. She is nothing if not efficient.

3. Sansa and Jon are like, “so... how cool are we going to play this? NOT COOL AT ALL LETS HUG” so sweet.

4. “Where will WE go?” Yes stay together Starklings because family is important certainly don’t scatter to the four winds or anything 🙄

5. I kind of love that Sansa’s the one who insists on taking back Winterfell and is all “help me or not I’m doing it”

6. I’m Brienne of Tarth and I HAVE A LONG FUCKING MEMORY. Wait... wrong show. (She DOES, though...)

7. Wow Petyr lying about Sansa being forced to Marry Ramsay... he’s playing the lords of the Vale like a fiddle.

8. That’s a lovely bird he got Robin. What a pretty boy.

9. Missandei staring daggers at Tyrion is Excellent Content. The “Tyrion tries to be a little more diplomatic but this involves dealing with slavers” problem is... a bit oversimplified, but at least they’re addressing it? Still not great.

10. Jorah and Daario are off on a secret mission and I cant stop hearing the Galavant song.

11. The older widow of the Dosh Khaleen is more interesting than the show will let her be.

12. Is that Lazareen widow Dutch from Killjoys? IT IS!!!!

13. Guess what high Sparrow NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR SELF RIGHTEOUS CONVERSION STORY LEAST OF ALL ME (guess who has some issues with organized religion it’s meeeee)

14. Way to act your heart out, though, Jonathan Pryce.

15. So idk if I’ve made a big deal about this but I’m SUPER QUEER and seeing Loras broken like that made my heart stop for a second.

16. “Not setting off” fanatics, huh Pycelle? I think Cersei has other ideas 😈 🔥

17. Tommen is TALLER THAN CERSEI NOW

18. Cersei and Jaime trying to get Olenna and Kevan on their side against the High Sparrow is... smarter than I thought it was going to be when they walked into that room. They had a united front, they were clearly working together... WHAT IS THIS I LIKE IT

19. Theon looks like a ghost of himself. :( And Pyke looks all creepy.

20. Jeez Yarra go easy on your little brother his psyche still has cracks in it. I guess it’s understandable that she’s pissed given the failed rescue and the timing of his arrival. I kept just waiting for him to say “I want to be home,” when she yelled WHAT DO YOU WANT but he didn’t and that makes me sad. (Home should have been Winterfell or wherever Sansa was just saying.)

21. Oh Osha don’t try it... shit. Well, you tried

22. And Tormund’s epic crush on Brienne begiiiiiins

23. SHIT RAMSAY TELLS JON HE HAS RICKON

24. Sansa insisting on reading the rest of the letter from Ramsay is... made of steel. I’m here for her being the driving force behind this attempted rescue.

25. I didn’t realize that so many Dothraki knew about how Dany lost the baby and Drogo.

26. DID DANY JUST KILL ALL OF THE KHALS? Girl knows how to make an entrance? The optics here are sooooo problematic but she looks DAMNED impressive the plan in and of itself is sound - gets rid of the men who don’t respect her and shows herself to be indestructible in one power move...

6x05 OH NO THIS IS CALLED THE DOOR I THINK I KNOW WHAT IS COMING

1. Is it just me or are d and d writing more and more episodes themselves?

2. Sansa has had enough of Littlefinger’s bullshit. Making him face up to what HE LEFT HER TO WHEN HE MARRIED HER TO RAMSAY AND ABANDONED HER YES GOOD.

3. When he says “did he cut you” and Sansa talking about Ramsay not caring as long as she could give him an heir... does that mean what I think it does? FGM? I hate that I even wonder. (Still not sure about this, but I don’t put it past them to imply something horrific like that and then not come back to it.)

4. The more I see the waif fight, the cooler she gets.

5. Faceless men founded Braavos? Right I KNEW that.

6. Ok the play is fun... complete with sound effects. So interesting to see what people in Braavos think of everything that happened.

7. So... I would Lady Crane’s voice anywhere. Hi Phryne!

8. Oh wow look at all the CotF

9. THEY MADE THE WHITE WALKERS I did not know that and for YEARS before this season came out we had an au idea where that was true and I AM SCREAMING

10. AND THEY DID IT TO DEFEND AGAINST THE ANDALS AND WHAT THEY WERE DOING TO THE TREES

11. Yara’s speech was lovely, Theon supporting her was sweet, but Yara shouldn’t have needed a dude’s support to get that reaction from the crowd. She’s been on Pyke and being badass ALL HER LIFE. That being said, I like to think Yara would have been Queen in this version of things if Euron hadn’t showed up. What a Dick.

12. How does Euron go from wanting to marry Dany to allying with Cersei? I guess I’m about to find out.

13. Damphair knows cpr, idiot showrunners. don’t just let Euron lie there.

14. YES GET AWAY YARA AND THEON AND... a lot of the fleet? Good on them.

15. Jorah trying to leave Dany and her not letting him and commanding him to find a cure aaaahhhhh my feelings 😢

16. In the real world Tyrion would have been a great campaign manager.

17. If they wanted someone local... why get a red priestess from Volantis? Is this supposed to be the same woman? Do any of the people of Meereen even follow the faith of R’Hollor?

18. Varys having no time for the red faith’s bullshit is SO GOOD. It’s ok Varys you’re probably the most famous eunuch in the world right now. And whoop de doo a sorceress knows a story about a sorcerer it’s a small magical world don’t let her cow you.

19. ...whatcha doing, Bran???

20. Well that’s not creepy at all. Soooo many wights. Were there only... four white walkers including the night king? I’m so confused.

21. “The Umbers gave Rickon to Ramsay they can hang” YES SANSA

22. Why did she lie about getting info from Petyr? (And GOOD ON BRIENNE calling her on it)

23. Brienne calling Jon “a bit brooding” is the most hilarious thing ever. Somewhere Jaime Lannister is laughing his ass off.

24. Yes wolfy clothes for everyone.

25. Awww Edd forgetting he’s acting lord commander is hilarious.

26. SO MANY WIGHTS DON’T DIE MIRA

27. Why are the children and the white walkers on opposite sides? Are these just about rogue CotF? EXPLAIN SHOW EXPLAIN

28. Cool visuals though... the night king walking through that fire was AWESOME.

29. Rickard LOOKS like a stark in that flashback.

30. RIP Bloodraven... glad you didn’t have to see how pointless all of this was.

31. Wait wait plain old wights can KILL THE CHILDREN? Dumb.

32. SUMMER NO I AM NOT OK WITH ANY OF THIS not Leaf either she’s a nice little tree person even if her motivations are unclear.

33. So Bran warging into Hodor in the present and in the past at the same time is what messed him up? Or something about the time folding and Bran BEING THERE?

34. That was upsetting as fuck about Hodor and I AM SAD EVEN THOUGH I KNEW IT WAS COMING

And... tumblr won’t let me post the whole thing. I had A LOT to say about some later episodes. Remember when I was going to keep this to three bullet points for each episode? Yeah me neither.

#summersea got rewatch 2019 #castle not giving a shit #summersea has feels about got #not actually a rewatch

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scarpool-gmk · 3 years

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Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 9 (11/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

Things were not going to plan. Which, as it so happened, was a plan. It just wasn’t her preferred choice. Luckily, she had yet to die from a series of going through with her boyfriend’s particular style of improvisation.

Annabeth cursed when an arrow clipped her side. She fell for cover.

“Annabeth!” Grover cried.

She waved him off. “Keep playing. I’m fine.”

Her friend was obviously apprehensive but obeyed, nonetheless. Annabeth winced as she felt her side. Painful as it was, it was not something to worry about. She pressed on it. The cut would heal quickly.

She reassessed their situation.

There was a horde of monsters and bad guys armed with close to long-range weapons. They were cornered and were using the mortals’ vehicle as cover. Although Annabeth determined that given the chance, the mortals would take the car to get the Hades out of here, she knew it would be bad if they lost their source of cover.

Annabeth slipped the magazine from her gun. Oh, and they were running out of bullets, too. Fast.

There was a shadow of a figure trying to edge around the SUV. Annabeth took aim, and as soon as the dracaena jumped out, Annabeth fired. Right between the eyes. The monster crumpled to the ground, but not without firing their own gun.

There was a pop! And the side mirror shattered. They all ducked their heads to avoid the glass shards.

“This isn’t working,” Clarisse said, brushing pieces of glass off her arm. “What are we doing behind here?”

“It’s a stalemate,” Annabeth said, making sure nothing else was trying to follow the dracaena’s example. “Right now, we are just waiting for something to change.”

“Waiting for Percy, you mean.”

Annabeth shot at a circling harpy but missed. She sighed. “That or we use up all our bullets.”

Clarisse muttered a curse. “This would be easier if we could see them, these tinted windows are useless.”

Annabeth looked at the broken side mirror. ‘It would be easier if we could see them…’

Picking up one of the large pieces of glass, Annabeth rotated it to get a view of the scene.

She noticed one of the mortals was lying on their stomach, trying to spot a potential shot from underneath the car. That was quite smart. Except that the monsters kept getting in his way. Annabeth wondered how many times he had been in a similar situation.

“They’re playing the waiting game, too,” she noted. Annabeth spotted the woman speaking roughly to a group of telkhines who were awkwardly holding assault rifles. “I don’t think the mortals are thrilled with their ride being caught in the crossfire.”

A sudden commotion caused Clarisse to snatch the glass out of Annabeth’s hand. Her affronted complaints of ‘Find your own!’ went ignored.

Grover gulped. “Are they charging?”

“From inside!” A man said.

“Mortalssss!” A dracaena hissed.

That must be Percy and Gibbs’s team! Annabeth pressed against Clarisse’s side to see.

A couple of Harpies had curiously swooped down low, and a couple monsters turned towards their new assailants, exposing their backs.

Clarisse brandished her spear and grinned at Annabeth. Now was the moment they were waiting for.

Clarisse leapt out, spear crackling, and gutted five of the nearest monsters in seconds. Annabeth followed close by.

Dodging bullets and arrows is no fun. But adding on weaponized monsters and dive-bombing harpies is utter Hades.

Annabeth paused to knife a telekhine in the chest and almost had a bullet replace her left eye. She drowned in the sound of pumping blood. She dived down and let loose the last of her shots only to be forced to roll her way to cover lest she be riddled in holes.

Annabeth paused for a second to get her hearing back to normal. A couple breaths later, she realized that she left Clarisse out there. Scrambling up, Annabeth didn’t even pause to think as she exposed herself to the fight.

Clarisse was thankfully not dead but fighting another four monsters.

“You!” She frothed, and it took a moment to realize that the daughter of Ares was talking to her. “Get your butt back under cover!”

Annabeth’s mouth opened to argue back on instinct.

A dot of copper flew towards Clarisse at lightning speed. With a twist of her arm and hands, the spear whirled into a blur. The monster in front of her lost its dog-head, and the dot burrowed into the ground.

Clarisse glanced at Annabeth, her beady eyes dark as coal.

Annabeth went back behind the car and leaned against it.

Clarisse had just blocked a bullet with her spear.

Annabeth slid down. She replayed the scene in her head and groaned as the world tilted. For some reason, that made her woozy.

She rubbed her head and frowned.

Annabeth looked at her hands. Were they always this red?

…

Oh.

-Ζήβα-

This was a mess. It was quite the miracle that they had gotten out of the building without being shot. The back exit was a narrow passage that would have ensured their doom if anyone from the outside had just shot at random. Thankfully, that did not happen as something had taken the enemy’s attention. Or, rather, someone. Clarisse La Rue, and that was her real name, was surrounded by beings that looked to have been assembled by a drunk. They were creatures with flippers for hands and canine muzzles for heads, what could only be described as snake-people, and banshees with bright wings attacking from above. Clarisse was alone amongst them. And she was menacing.

Ziva felt the hair on her arm rise from the thrum of energy as Clarisse spun her spear, spearing a creature. There was a brief, blue spark, and the monster turned to dust. Ziva shivered. What was that?

Percy ran to Clarisse’s aid.

“Took you long enough,” Clarisse told him and shoved him aside. “This is my spot. Find your own.”

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy asked.

Movement from the black SUV caught Ziva’s eye. “Gibbs,” she called. It was Underwood, and he was dragging a bloody, pale body.

Jackson saw it, too. “Annabeth? Annabeth! No!”

A wild slash sliced three opponents in half. Ziva’s mouth went dry. They were half a meter away from his sword.

He let out a scream, and the earth responded.

Ziva’s ears popped as the air pressure fell, and the wind rose. The ground beneath them shifted, and suddenly there was water everywhere, flooding the place. La Rue jumped on the hood of the SUV, a manic gleam in her eye as she pointed her spear to the water. The tip was on fire. Was she hoping to put it out or some-

Besides her, Tony cursed, and Ziva quickly followed suit. Tony grabbed her, and together they pushed Gibbs and McGee back inside the building.

They barely made it.

La Rue plunged her spear down. Like it was alive, the water surged and crackled. The air filled with smoke and clouds of familiar golden dust. The ground rumbled in the water’s wake.

Ziva stared, and someone gasped. It could have been her. It could have been all of them.

This was devastating power. Most of the horde was gone, the rest scattered, and Ziva realized that if they hadn’t made a run for it, they could have easily been bycatch.

But they weren’t the only ones to have dived inside for cover.

One of the gunmen had joined them. For a moment, nobody moved. Then, Ziva made eye contact.

He made a run for it.

“Got him!” Ziva shouted in warning as she gave chase. She saw the man fumble with a handgun at his hip, and she dived. The gun was flung to the side as they fell to the ground.

Ziva struggled to maintain her place on top and tried to grab his flailing arms while searching for her cuffs. A knee to her shin threw off her balance, and she was easily pushed off. She quickly jumped back up as the man did the same.

Not giving the man the chance, she struck first.

Ziva punched the man in the face. His head jerked back, bloody. Ziva shot another punch, but the man stumbled to the side and grabbed her arm. Ziva twisted around, bringing the arm close, forcing the man’s arm to bend uncomfortably. She kicked behind his knee. The man grunted in pain, but his grip was vicelike. He went in for her head with his other hand. She ducked at the last second. He quickly brought his arm down, and Ziva hissed as his elbow struck deep in her shoulder. Ziva wasted no time in grabbing the bronze knife at her side and thrusting it into the man’s chest. It went straight in. Ziva stared. No, not in. Through.

Suddenly, she doubled over. The air was forced from her lungs as pain exploded in her stomach. She saw the knee coming but wasn’t quick enough. She saw spots shield her vision, and she heard a crack. Ah, that would be her nose. Hands fisted on her shoulders. She cried out when her back slammed against the wall. The hand on her left shoulder left, and, after a beat, she instinctively tilted her head right.

She heard a sickening noise and a loud curse. She twisted and slashed a palm at the jugular, freeing herself. She took a couple of steps back, putting space between them. She swiped her arm over her brow. The man suddenly relaxed and waved at her.

What?

“Watch out!” She was yanked back, pulled by her shirt. She stumbled back but used the momentum to send a whirling kick. Underwood ducked, and her leg flew over his head. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back, just in time for the beaten-up SUV to plow passed them.

What was it with these people and trying to run her over?

The car swerved to a stop, and the back door opened. Ziva breathed a few choice words under her breath.

The man hopped in and grabbed the rifle that was on his seat. Ziva went to move out of the way and get under nonexistent cover, but Underwood was already on it. He set his reeds to his lips and played a fast jig. Trees sprung into existence from the empty ground. There were a couple pops as the man’s shots hit bark until the engine revved. The beat-up SUV sped away.

Ziva looked at the tree, then at Underwood, then at his shoeless hooves.

“Uh, thanks.”

“D-don’t mention it.”

Ziva nodded. “So, a satyr, huh. Aren’t you supposed to have horns, too?”

Grover flushed and patted down his mass of curly hair.

Ziva just nodded again. Yup, that completed the picture. It was odd but, she felt at ease with how, uh, unsurprised she was. She’ll think about it later. Probably when the shock kicks in. She turned back to the rest of the action. Right. Sounds good.

Gibbs and McGee knelt around Chase. Tony stood by Jackson’s side, wary and watchful. Clarisse stood proudly in a puddle of muddy water, vauntingly staring down the remaining creatures.

“It’s over Botsaris,” Clarisse yelled. “Give it up, and you’ll have an easier trip to Tartarus.”

Botsaris dusted yellow dust off his navy suit and checked his cufflinks before lifting his chin. “You’re right about that. My trips to Tartarus will never be easier. The mother is waking, and soon you’ll be destroying yourselves. My courage will continue to grow stronger. This is not over until I say it’s over.”

“Then decide that now.”

Ziva almost jumped at Gibbs’s voice.

He stared steadily at Botsaris.

“You lost most of your men and are outnumbered. No one else needs to get hurt.”

“Hurt? You mortals have suffered the most at the hands of the gods these demigods pledge their loyalty to. Countless of your lives have perished on their account. Manhattan and San Francisco being the most recent events.”

Manhattan and San Francisco? Ziva thought of any news from those cities. Right. A couple of months ago, there was massive panic all around Manhattan. There were tons of garbles reports and calls and strange accounts, especially surrounding the Empire State Building. It was written off as mass delusions and hysteria brought on by…what did the report say again? Whatever it was, it had obviously covered up the truth.

“We will take care of them,” Gibbs said. “Now, put down your weapons.”

A dog-faced creature by Botsaris’s side snarled low and long. Behind her, Ziva heard rumbling hisses.

Botsaris smirked. “No. We are not finished yet.”

“Ziva, Tony; keep your eyes on him,” Gibbs ordered. “McGee, Underwood; get her to safety. Jackson, La Rue; stay close.”

Whatever was coming was close.

“I’ll handle the back.”

“Yes,” Botsaris nodded, “Good luck with that. Get them, Tommy!”

‘Tommy?’ Who the f-

“RAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!”

Botsaris smiled a hundred-watt smile.

Gibbs’s voice cut through the confusion. “Drop!”

Ziva hit the dirt, and she registered Tony doing the same. Just in time, too. A massive set of jaws snapped and hissed its way right above them so fast and powerful, it felt as there were several of them. Ziva curled up and protected her head as chunks of debris and dirt were kicked into the air.

She scrambled up to her feet once she felt the ground literally tremble with their new enemy’s landing. Again, she felt her chest freeze.

“Great. Large, sharp teeth,” Tony panted. “I can’t get enough of them.”

Ziva forced air into her lungs. The absolute monstrosity was a huge legged serpent with five, extremely hungry and angry looking heads. Indeed, all five have pristine rows of teeth the size of her arm and sharpened to maximum lethality.

Somehow stuck on the middle neck of the beast was a tag with, ‘Hi, I’m Tommy!’

Ziva was thrown back in time. Sandy hair, hazel eyes- no, not hazel. They were slithering and emerald green, like those of the five-headed serpent monster in front of her.

No. There was absolutely no way the boy and this monster was one and the same. ‘Number 39,’ some part of her brain that sounded suspiciously like Gibbs monotoned, ‘There is no such thing as a coincidence.’

Ziva lifted her gun. Plant feet. Stabilize. Steady arm. Aim. Breathe.

“Take it!”

Ziva shot two bullets in one glazed eye. The beast snarled, and ten green orbs shined with loathing.

The monster gurgled.

Clarisse cursed. “Scatter!”

Ziva rolled closer to the wall of the building. One of the heads spat an arc of putrid looking liquid that shot right down the middle of the street. The ground and random rumble began to disintegrate.

Percy brandished his sword in a practiced whirl.

“Clarisse, how do you feel about beating a Hydra with me, again?”

Clarisse flicked something off her spear.

“’With you, again?’ I did all the work last time, barnacle brain.” She looked at Ziva and Tony. “We’ll deal with the Hydra. You deal with Botsaris and friends.”

Ziva and Tony nodded.

The Hydra sprayed another jet of acid, and the four jumped into action.

-Τιμοτηψ-

“Hey!”

Timothy ripped his eyes from the fight.

“Focus,” Gibbs said, as he finished wrapping Lima’s abdomen.

“Sorry.”

“She’s lost consciousness from loss of blood,” Gibbs said. “Lift her feet. Get her out of here. I’ll cover you.”

Grover followed the instructions, and with Tim taking care with Lima’s head, they waited for the signal.

Gibbs watched the fight for just a moment.

“Go, go, go!”

Keeping low, they made their way out of the backstreet. Stray bullets hit the ground around them.

Tim instinctually looked to the fight. Ziva and Tony were leading the firefight with Botsaris and his flippered friends.

Jackson and La Rue were taking on the five heads. The way they moved around each other and anticipated the serpents’ attacks, reacting with such speed, was captivating. They were amazing. But it wasn’t working. Although it seemed like they were avoiding it if they could, the heads kept being cut off. It would have been reassuring if two more didn’t keep replacing them.

Something tugged on Tim’s sleeve.

“Fire,” Lima croaked.

“Lima!” Tim exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

The group quickly made it to the other side of the street, finally getting to a bullet and monster free zone.

“Annabeth!” Underwood scrambled over, digging into his pockets. “You need ambrosia. Now!”

‘Ambrosia?’

Lima-er, Annabeth ignored her partner and focused on Tim.

“They need fire to defeat it.”

Tim remembered a class at the beginning years of college. “To kill the Hydra, they need to burn the heads after cutting them off.”

Annabeth nodded.

Tim looked at the monster’s base. If he could find something in there…

“Boss.”

“What, McGee?”

“It’s a Hydra. We need something to cauterize the flesh. Without it, every time they cut a head off, it’ll keep duplicating. I think I may be able to find something in the Doughnut store, but-“

“You can kill it?” Gibbs interrupted.

“I- I think so.”

“Go.”

Tim left Annabeth to Grover’s care and rushed back into the fast-food joint. Winding up in the kitchen, Tim started opening cabinets at random.

“Fire. Fire. Fire,” Tim repeated.

Oh, God. If he couldn’t kill a monster dog, how was he supposed to kill something that was bigger, stronger, and had a lot more teeth?

He leaned on the counter and buried his head in his hands.

“Okay, Tim. Just calm down. You can do this. You need fire to kill a mythical immortal being that’s trying to eat your friends.”

He searched his pockets and placed a lighter down.

Hmmm, a good start, but…

He stared at it for a moment.

“I’m going to need a bigger fire.”

He turned in a circle and spotted a fire extinguisher. An idea formed. That could work.

He cleared some space. First step: Always have a clean, organized work area. Second. He grabbed the fire extinguisher. Gather all materials needed.

Tim searched the kitchen and found a valve from some sort of pressure cooker, a pressure pump from another machine, paper napkins, tape, a screwdriver, and oil. Bottles and bottles of oil. Tim frowned. But it was all Olive Oil. So, he went to the coffee maker instead and took all the little plastic packs of creamer powder.

Checking off his mental list, Tim moved on to finally working on his project.

He uncapped the fire extinguisher and dumped the contents in a trash bag, coughing when the powder flew in his face. Although washing the excess out with water would have been preferred, Tim couldn’t risk getting the inside of the tank wet. Not when he was using a dry substance.

Next, he needed to puncture the tank to fit the valve.

He laid the tank down on the racks of a conveyor belt and used one of its levers to clamp it down. He brought the screwdriver up, aimed, and struck down.

“Ack!” Tim dropped the screwdriver and hugged his reverberating arm close. He flexed his hand and took a sharp intake of breath. Not good. He looked at the fire extinguisher for any sort of mark. Nothing.

Shoot! What was he supposed to do now? Something on the floor caught his eye.

It looked like… ah. This was one of the teeth that was trying to snap the team in half before Jackson came to the rescue. What was it doing here? But more importantly- Tim glanced back at the screwdriver- would it puncture the red tank?

There was only one way to find out.

Grabbing the tooth, Tim was surprised to find it was lighter than it looked, but it was as sharp as he remembered. Before striking the tank again, Tim had a thought. He grabbed the screwdriver. He should probably hammer the tooth in, instead of destroying his arm as he did before. Holding the tooth steady against the fire extinguisher, Tim brought the screwdriver up and used the handle to slam on the tooth.

Tim struck once and twice. On the third hit, he almost lost hold of the tooth as he suddenly lost resistance.

Tim lifted the tooth and gawked at the hole he had made.

Woah! What the hell was this thing made of? Tim was really glad the hellhound hadn’t wrapped its jaws around anyone. Even bulletproof vests wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Plugging in the valve, Tim started to fill the tank with creamer powder. Once he was done, he would pump the pressure in, attach a napkin to a rod and tape that to the tank.

Hopefully, everyone was still okay out there. Tim cut another batch of coffee powder packs open. If they were, he prayed that his makeshift weapon worked.

-Περσεύς-

“Percy! Stop cutting the heads off!”

“Geez, I’m sorry! If you would stop trying to stab me, maybe that would happen!”

“It’s your own fault! You’re too close to it!”

Percy’s blood boiled. He began to snark back but saw two younger-looking heads coming at him for a Percy-tasting snack. He rolled out of the way from one head and used his sword to deflect the second one coming from behind. Percy felt his sword slice through monster flesh. Shoot. Why was it that every other monster had tough skin, while this one was as susceptible as an army knife through butter?

Percy backed away as the stump started to stitch back together. A ball of flames appeared. With a ‘Fumpf!’, the neck burned and blackened. The other heads hissed at the loss of their brethren and turned to stare at the new attacker.

Agent McGee held a fire extinguisher aloft, and the heads swarmed around him. Every time he moved the tank, they backed away and tried another route.

“Percy! Be useful and keep cutting the heads off!”

Percy resisted the urge of snarling right back at Clarisse’s pug face and focused on hacking away.

It was amazing how much easier it was to handle a Hydra with a flamethrower at their disposal. The Hephaestus cabin probably had a few in their stockpile. Percy should probably look around their workshop, again. The Hydra was soon just a pile of dust.

“A fire extinguisher turned flamethrower,” Tony noted, joining them. “Nice work, McGee.”

“We are not in the clear yet.” Ziva motioned to Botsaris and his small entourage. “Our guns may not be as effective, but they are certainly made for hands and not…whatever they have.”

“Flippers,” Percy supplied helpfully, watching as the monsters fumbled with the rifles they had dropped, “and, uh, snake arms?”

Botsaris rolled his eyes. “Ugh.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Why do I continue to accept green recruits? Fight them, you fools!”

Clarisse stomped her way towards the trembling group of telkhines and dracaenae. She dealt with them so quickly, Percy almost felt bad for them. Clarisse ended with her spear point by Botsaris’s neck.

“You are done, Markos Botsaris.”

“It’s not over while I’m still on this plane, mortal.”

Clarisse sneered. “Such courage for someone who had his comrades take the hits for him.”

Botsaris lifted his chin. “You have seen little of what I have done with my battle-strength and bravery. My courage is of a spirit hardened enough to make my mother proud.”

“Your mother?”

“Alke, the spirit of Courage itself.”

Percy never heard of her, but Clarisse perked up. “Isn’t she displayed on the shield, Aegis?”

Botsaris’s smile disappeared. “Yes, she is. The Gods offended greatly, belittling my mother to a gorgon. Without her, your arrogant father would be nothing more than a whimpering mess.”

Clarisse swung her spear with a yell. The son of Alke ducked and rammed his shoulder into her. Percy drew Riptide up and struck down. Botsaris blocked with a knife and circled Percy close, forcing Percy to step back out of the fight.

For a breath of a second, no one moved.

Botsaris came at them like lightning. Percy felt his instincts take over once again. He dodged and jabbed, but Botsaris was on a completely different level than the run-of-the-mill monsters he kept by his side. Even the Hydra with its acid and multiple, regenerating heads just did not compare to the craftsman of expertise.

Percy was vaguely aware of Clarisse and the two agents fighting beside him. As much as he loved Riptide, going against a skilled knifeman was tricky with a sword. He had a bad feeling about what could have happened if Agents Ziva and DiNozzo weren’t there to fight knife with knife. They were trained federal agents. There was no way Botsaris could win against them.

Tony hit the dirt.

Okay, maybe he could. Percy moved in, but the girls had him covered. Clarisse spun her spear like a staff, locking Botsaris’s arms. Ziva’s fist collided with his face resulting in a solid ‘Crunch!’

Botsaris’s usual perfect face distorted, either by pain or from the physical impact of the punch, Percy couldn’t tell. His face scrunched into something similar to a deformed pumpkin and roared. He slashed at the mortal agent, and in one swift motion, he was disarmed, and Ziva’s celestial knife carved through his chest.

Botsaris’s eyes went wide in shock. “You… mortal... impossible...”

He collapsed to dust in Ziva’s arms.

Ziva stared at the sand. “Where do they go?”

Clarisse went up to help brush her off the monster dust.

“Tartarus,” Percy said, “He’ll be there until he climbs back out.”

“He’ll be back?”

“Monsters don’t really die,” Percy said, “They just respawn.”

“What’s Tartarus like?” Tony asked.

Percy shrugged. “Never been. I hope I never do.”

He looked at McGee. “Annabeth. How is she? Where is she?”

“This way.”

McGee led them away. Annabeth was sitting, propped up on the wall with Grover and Agent Gibbs beside her.

“Annabeth!”

“Hey, Seaweed Brain. Thanks for helping them, McGee.” She tilted her head. “Is that a fire extinguisher?”

McGee lifted his makeshift weapon. “Extinguisher turned producer.”

“Really saved our skins,” Percy said.

“But what about you?” McGee asked. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks.” Annabeth lifted her bloodstained shirt. “All healed up.”

“But-but you were- “

“They have pretty effective medicines,” Gibbs said.

“Like what?” Tony said. “I see a lot of blood.”

“Ambrosia,” Grover explained. “Food of the gods.”

“’Gods,’” Ziva mumbled, touching her neck.

“’Food,’” Tony mirrored, rubbing his stomach.

“Won’t work for you, though,” Annabeth said, “It will literally burn you up.”

“Good to know…”

“Is the Hydra gone?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah,” Percy said. “Botsaris and his group of monsters, too.”

“The humans were able to flee.” Ziva was transfixed on how the blade of the celestial bronze knife slipped through her arm like it wasn’t even there. “At least, I assume they were human.”

Annabeth hoisted herself up. “They were part of the Reynosa Cartel.”

“They were here for ‘Rovers,’ but I doubt they’ll be back for business,” Percy said.

“Especially with NCIS involvement,” Annabeth said.

Tony chuckled. “And let’s not forget your involvement, too.”

“The case is closed,” Annabeth said, “I’m sure you got Michael’s killer, didn’t you?”

Gibbs nodded. “We have a lot to talk about, Ms. Annabeth Chase.”

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#scarpool #fanfic #fanfiction #Godly Marine: Killed #NCIS #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #Crossover #gen fic #PG/K+#Writing #Complete

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