#demons and demigods verse

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods: Chapter Three: Fuck John Winchester, All the Homies Hate John Winchester (feat. Bamf Sally Jackson)

Hiya, babes! Here we are, finally, time for Sally to kill the fuck out of John Winchester, Paul to simp like hell for his badass wife, and for Thalia Missing Percy Hours and also wanting to be just like Sally when she grows up. Hope you like it fully written up <3

Ao3

~ ~ ~

Paul sat at the dining table, half-heartedly grading papers. When Percy had first gone missing, he had taken some time off, but as time stretched on and still there was no news, he went back to work. Goode had been more than willing to give him whatever time he needed, but to be honest, he could use the distraction. 

Paul took a moment to watch Sally as she moved about the kitchen, stress cleaning after her latest bout of stress baking (Paul was happy to eat any and all blue-dyed treats his wife made, but he wished the current hoard of blue desserts wasn’t because she was so worried about Percy). She finished wiping down the counters and began to fill the sink to start on the dishes while the blue chocolate chip cookies cooled. 

(They were Percy’s favorite, and Paul’s chest twinged at the reminder that he wasn’t here to help Sally make them, and then give Paul a heart attack by reaching in to pull the tray out of the oven with his bare hands even though Paul had watched him do it countless times and be perfectly fine each time because, as Percy loved to jokingly remind him, “I'm mostly fireproof, Paul, I’ve had lava thrown at me and caused a volcanic eruption. The oven hardly even registers as warm.”) 

Paul turned back to the essays he was supposed to be grading and tried to focus on the one he was currently reading. He made it through two more papers analyzing the themes of “The Yellow Wallpaper” before his attention was pulled from a (so far lackluster) third by a furious knocking on the front door. 

Sally met his wide-eyed gaze with her own and dried her hands on her apron before hurrying to the door. Paul stood to follow her, heart in his throat, unable to fully bury the desperate hope that it was Percy waiting on the other side. He’d hardly made it around the table when Sally opened the door and a tall, terrifying man barged inside their apartment, shoving Sally back.

Paul took an involuntary step back, eyes flicking to the knife block on the counter to gauge the distance in case he needed to grab a weapon. Sally, however, didn’t even flinch, just steadied herself, crossed her arms, and stared the guy down. (Gods, Paul loved that woman. She was so badass.) 

“John,” she said coldly, and realization crashed over Paul in an instant. John. Sam and Dean’s asshole father. Paul inched closer to the knife block; he had a feeling this wasn’t going to end peacefully. 

John Winchester cut a truly intimidating figure, well-honed strength evident in the harsh lines of his body, violence barely contained in his tightly curled fists and rage burning in his dark eyes. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled, voice low and menacing. “Trying to turn my own sons against me? You have no right !” his voice rose steadily until he was yelling in Sally’s face, spittle flying. Paul grimaced in disgust and carefully wrapped his hand around the handle of the chef’s knife to pull it from the block. 

Sally (bless that woman) merely raised an eyebrow and reached up to casually wipe away some saliva that had landed on her cheek. “Your sons?” she said with a derisive scoff. “Please. You didn’t raise those boys, Dean raised himself and Sam. You neglected those boys, and you abused Dean.” Sally’s tone was sharp and cruel, unfazed in the face of a man nearly twice her size. “Mary may have been your wife, but she was my sister!” She stepped forward and jabbed a finger into John’s chest. “I have every fucking right,” she hissed. 

John’s face twisted into an enraged snarl as he grabbed Sally’s wrist and wrenched it away from his chest. He twisted her arm and shoved her into the wall, his other forearm pressing against her throat. “I raised my boys right! I made them strong and self-sufficient! And I never did anything to Dean that he didn’t deserve. I taught him obedience—” 

Paul’s vision went red. How fucking dare he—  

But before Paul had managed to do more than yank the knife free and lunge around the table, Sally had pulled some ninja, Black Widow, bullshit move and was now on John’s shoulders, choking him out with her thighs. 

(Holy shit. Paul couldn’t help but wonder if Sally would do that to him if he asked really nicely . . .) 

“I don’t know how Mary ever loved you,” Sally hissed, pulling a silver blade from . . . somewhere? Where was she hiding that? (Holy fuck, Paul was so lucky.) “She would hate you for what you’ve done, for raising her boys to be hunters. She didn’t want that life for them. Oh yeah,” she said, smiling ruefully when John’s attempts to pry her legs from around his throat froze momentarily. “Mary and I came from a long line of hunters, we were raised not so different from how you raised Sam and Dean. But it’s a shitty way to live, and you’ve condemned her children to the life she married you to get free of. She would fucking hate you, John.” 

John roared and finally managed to yank Sally off his shoulders, throwing her to the ground. She wheezed, the wind temporarily knocked from her lungs, as her knife skittered across the floor and out of reach. “You don’t know anything,” he snarled, lunging after Sally as she scrambled back to her feet. 

Paul threw himself forward, planting himself between them, and brandished his chef’s knife in John’s face. “Back off, John,” Paul said sternly, sounding much steadier than he felt, thank the gods. “You may not have done right by them, but Dean and Sam love you. They’re upset right now, and understandably so, but give them space and some time for everyone to cool off and they’ll reach out to you when they’re ready to talk about it. With time, I’m sure the three of you can work this out and move past it.” 

John glared at him. “You stay out of this,” he said harshly, unperturbed by the knife in his face, and shoved Paul aside. The knife clattered out of his hand and Paul landed on his ass with an oof, his head cracking against the floor and making his vision go a little fuzzy. Well, shit. 

John took a heavy swing at Sally, who was back on her feet now, and Paul watched through vaguely blurry vision as she ducked under his fist and then managed to land a roundhouse kick to his head, sending him staggering into the wall. 

“I don’t want to fight you, John,” Sally said, voice cold. “But I’m not going to stand here and let you attack me and my husband in my home. So you can either calm down and walk out my front door under your own power, or I will put you down, drag you out, and leave your ass on the street. It’s up to you.” 

Now, Paul was a little fuzzy on what exactly happened next, to be honest, because it all happened rather fast (and he might have a mild concussion), but he’s pretty sure it went something like this: John, further enraged by Sally telling him to get the fuck out of her house and subsequent insinuation that she was fully capable of beating his ass, said something truly heinous to her (that Paul is actually very glad he can’t particularly remember aside from the fact that it pissed him off) and drew what looked like a fucking machete (???) from where it was hidden somewhere under his coat. Then there was a lot of flashing metal and shouting, a few small spurts of blood that had Paul’s heart in his throat, and then John was on his knees, gagging as he clutched desperately at his neck. 

Sally stood in front of him with the machete in hand, blood dripping off the blade, her face contorted in a mixture of mild horror and disgust. John continued to choke, punctuated by the occasional gurgle, before his hands dropped from his slit throat and he fell forward onto his face in a grotesque, growing puddle of his own blood. 

“Well,” Sally said blithely, one hand on her cocked hip. “That complicates some things.” 

Paul must have made some vague noise, because Sally turned to him, face full of concern. She dropped the knife and hurried over to his side, checking him over as she helped him sit up. 

“Are you okay?” she asked gently, and Paul had to take a moment to just marvel at this gorgeous, badass woman in front of him. 

How the hell did I get this lucky, he thought, and Sally giggled. Oh. He must have said that out loud. Whoops. 

“I’m okay,” he said. “Maybe a little bruised, but I’m fine. What about you? Are you hurt? Did he get you with that knife?” Paul asked, suddenly remembering the small splatters of blood from throughout the fight, and he grabbed her shoulders, scanning her for signs of injury. He couldn’t tell if any of the blood was hers or if it was all John’s. 

Sally smiled softly at him and gently reached up to grab his hands, settling them in her lap as she gave them a comforting squeeze. “I’m fine,” she said. “Maybe a little bruised,” she said lightly, parroting his words from earlier, “But I’m fine.” 

Paul let out a breath and slumped back against the wall. His gaze drifted to the body in their entryway, the blood still pooling and no doubt staining their rug beyond saving. Paul wondered idly if they’d be able to clean the wood beneath or if they’d have to replace it and hope nobody asked too many questions. (Somewhere, he thought he should probably be more freaked out and upset that there was a dead body in his hallway and that he’d just watched his wife brutally murder a man, but whatever. It’d probably hit him later, right now he was a little more preoccupied with what they were gonna do about it.) 

Sally must have noticed his shifted attention and looked over her shoulder with a sigh. 

“I’m not upset that he’s dead, and I’m not sorry for killing him,” she said bluntly. “He was a fucking bastard, a shitty ass father, and I never liked him anyway, to be honest; I don’t think he treated Mary all that well.” she sighed again. “But you’re right, Sam and Dean do still love him. I don’t know if they’ll ever forgive me for this, but I have to tell them, they deserve to know that he’s dead, and they deserve to know the truth about how it happened,” she sniffled. “I don’t want to lose them again, not when I just got them back, not with Percy gone, too, but I can’t lie to them . . .” she dropped her head to stare at their hands, still intwined in her lap, before looking back up at him with teary eyes. “Lie to me and tell me it’ll all be okay.” 

Paul pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin as she began to sob into his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said softly. “It’s all gonna be alright.” 

— 

After Sally had calmed down some, the two of them just sat there for a little longer, taking comfort in each other’s arms. Eventually, they stood and Sally fetched an old blanket from the closet. Together, they rolled John’s body onto the blanket and moved it out of the way so they could mop up the blood. 

They worked in silence. Paul rolled up the long, narrow rug to be disposed of and Sally got to work on the floor underneath it. Paul was amazed at how thoroughly she managed to clean the wood; he could hardly tell that it had been bloodstained just minutes before. Paul collected the kitchen knife, Sally’s silver dagger, and the still blood-covered machete. He dropped the kitchen knife in the sink to be washed later (doing the dishes was pretty low on their list of priorities at the moment), set Sally’s dagger on the table for her to grab and resheath when she was done, and then stared at the machete. What the hell was he supposed to do with a fucking machete? 

After a moment, he shrugged to himself and went to rinse the blood off it in the sink, then very carefully dried it off and set it beside the dagger on the table so Sally could decide what to do with it later. 

Finally, they’d cleaned up everything else and Sally and Paul were left standing side by side, staring down at the dead body wrapped in a ratty old blanket in their living room. 

Paul broke the silence. 

“So . . . what are we going to do about him, exactly?” he asked apprehensively. 

Sally sighed and crossed her arms. “Last time I killed somebody, there wasn’t all this mess to take care of. I just sold his petrified corpse to a museum and called it a day.” 

Paul turned to his wife with an awed expression and hearts in his eyes. “Sally Jackson-Blofis, have I ever told you how much I love you?” he said, semi-dreamily. 

Sally laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You have, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“I love you so much. You are the most amazing, caring, badass woman I have ever met. I wake up every morning and thank all the powers that be that I was lucky enough to catch your eye.” 

Sally looked up at him with a soft smile for a moment before her eyes widened almost comically and she snapped her fingers. “Oh! I know! I’ll Iris Message Thalia! I think she and the Hunters should be nearby.” 

Paul watched, rather confused, as Sally spun on her heel and dashed into the kitchen. 

Sally turned on the kitchen sink and grabbed a prism off the windowsill. She carefully angled the prism until a rainbow appeared in the mist from the faucet, then she plucked a gold coin from a small pile tucked behind the utensil crock. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, closing her fist around the coin and holding it to her chest. “Oh, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, please accept this offering and show me Thalia Grace with the Hunters of Artemis.” She tossed the coin into the rainbow and it disappeared. 

Now, Paul knew what an Iris Message was, of course, he’d sort of seen one before, but he’d never watched someone make a call, just the random misty rainbow that his eyes skipped over until he heard a voice and saw someone else looking at and talking to it. Trying to focus on an Iris Message usually left him with a headache, though, so he usually ignored them once he realized that’s what was going on. 

Now, however, he was curious, and squinted determinedly at the little rainbow wavering in the air. He was going to see this one, headache or no. 

Then, he blinked, and there was a face in the rainbow, which still startled him, despite knowing it was coming. The girl had jet black hair and eyes that reminded him of concentrated lightning, a silver circlet glittering on her forehead. She looked tired and stressed, with slumped shoulders and dark circles under her eyes. In the background, he could see a couple other young girls wrestling playfully with each other and—was that a wolf? 

“Hey, Sally,” Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and Lieutenant of Artemis, said with a weary smile. “Do you have news on Percy?” 

“Hello, Thalia, dear, and no, unfortunately.” Sally greeted her with an equally tired smile. “But three new demigods were brought to Camp, one with amnesia and the other two with false memories of him having been with them for months. They received a quest and Annabeth believes that the boy with no memory might know something about Percy if and when he regains his memories. I’m calling because I have a favor to ask.” 

“Anything, Sally, you know that.” Thalia’s brow furrowed. Paul reached up to massage his temples, forcing himself to focus on the magic call despite the pain blooming in his head. 

“Well, I can tell you more about it later, but this is rather time-sensitive, so if you wouldn’t mind saving any questions until after this is taken care of, I would appreciate it. I just killed my nephews’ shitty, abusive father and was hoping you and the other Hunters would be willing to help me get rid of the body,” Sally said bluntly. 

Thalia blinked. She blinked again. She opened her mouth and then closed it. She stared at Sally silently for a long moment, then she barked out a laugh and doubled over. 

“Holy fuck,” she gasped, fighting to get herself under control again. “Yeah, yeah, of course, Sally. Fuck. Have I ever told you that you’re the coolest fucking person ever?” 

She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes as she straightened and turned to call over her shoulder. “Hey! Pack it up, people, we’re moving!” She looked back at Sally. “The others will get set up somewhere near Camp and I’ll come to you. It looks like you’re in your apartment, right? I’ll help you get the body out of the building without drawing too much attention, then we’ll drive out and meet up with the rest of the Hunters. We’ll have a bonfire and you can tell us all about it.” 

Sally grinned. “Thank you, Thalia. We’ll see you soon.” 

Sally waved away the message with a heavy sigh as Thalia started barking orders and slumped against the counter. 

Paul was immediately slammed with the mother of all headaches; pressure built behind his eyes as they started to burn. He blinked a few times and tried to push through the pain to go to Sally’s side, only to stumble and barely manage to catch himself on the table with a grunt. 

Sally whirled around and hurried to his side, settling a hand between his shoulder blades comfortingly. “Are you alright, dear?” she asked. 

Paul took a moment to breathe through the pain and very carefully nodded his head. “I’m fine, Sally, just forced myself to focus on the Message and now I’ve got a headache,” he said slowly. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes at him. 

“You silly, stubborn man,” she said lightly. “Now come on, let’s get you lying down and I’ll bring you some water and a couple aspirin.” 

She helped him stumble to their bedroom and kissed his forehead soothingly after she bundled him under the covers. She fussed with the pillows behind him for a moment before disappearing into the master bath. She returned with a glass of water, a damp washcloth, and the pills for him to take. 

He drank dutifully and then pulled Sally down for a kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. He felt her smile and his own lips twitched upwards in response. “Now shoo,” he said, squinting his eyes open and waving her toward the door. “I’ll be fine, and I know you want to take care of a few more things before Thalia gets here.” 

Paul savored the soft smile she gave him as she leaned down to kiss his forehead one more time before laying the cool washcloth across his brow. 

“I love you, too,” she said, and then she was gone, and Paul closed his eyes, letting himself fully settle into the bed in hopes that he’d be able to drift off and sleep away the worst of his headache. 

~ ~ ~ 

Thalia bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. (The elevator was too slow, and she needed to feel like she was doing something, else her mind would get the better of her and her thoughts would start to spiral down pathways she’d rather not explore.) When she’d seen Sally in that Iris Message, she had let herself dare to hope that Percy had been found. She and the Hunters had been scouring the country for any sign of him and the longer they went without finding anything, the more Thalia began to fear that they’d never find him, that she’d never see him again. 

She couldn’t lose Percy; she couldn’t lose her brother. Not again. Not like this. Every time she closed her eyes recently, she saw Beryl sneering at her, telling her that her little brother was gone, dragging her from the park kicking and screaming. She saw little Jason, with his shaggy blonde hair and big blue eyes, imagined him sitting alone somewhere in the woods, cold and scared and crying in the dark, calling for her, begging her to find him and bring him home, only she never came. 

She knew, logically, that Jason had been a helpless toddler when he ‘went missing’, and Percy was sixteen and more than capable of taking care of himself. Percy had literally fought a war and survived a prophecy that everyone thought was going to kill him; she knew that he could handle himself, knew that he was one of the most powerful demigods alive and one of the strongest people she’d ever met. 

But her heart, it seemed, just could not get the memo. Sometimes, in her dreams, she saw Percy in Jason’s place, so much smaller than he’d ever seemed to her and more terrified than she’d ever seen him. He would reach for her, his frame thin and gaunt in a way that was painfully familiar, his little hands shaking, his bright eyes filled with tears and her name on the tip of his tongue. Then, a huge beast would reach out of the shadows and steal Percy away, Percy’s screams and the monster’s cruel, booming laughter echoing in her ears when she jolted awake. 

Annabeth was falling apart, working herself to the bone and pushing her body to the limit trying to find something, anything to tell her where Percy might be, that he was still out there somewhere. Thalia couldn’t do anything but watch as her best friend slowly killed herself, could only whisper empty assurances when Annabeth called her crying in the middle of the night. 

Thalia wanted to scream and rage at the world, wanted to break down Olympus’s doors and force the gods to fix this shit. She wanted to find the Fates and rip them apart. How dare they, how fucking dare they let this happen, orchestrate this clusterfuck, do nothing but sit there and fucking watch. Percy and Annabeth had already been through so much, sacrificed so much, for the gods and the Fates and the whole gods damned world, they had more than earned their happy ending, deserved so much better than the shit hands life and destiny had dealt them. 

(Sometimes, Thalia thought back to the Great Prophecy she had left for Percy to shoulder. Olympus to preserve or raze. Sometimes she wished she’d taken on the prophecy herself, when the fury overwhelmed her better judgement and she wanted nothing more than to burn that damn place to the ground. Sometimes she thought about tearing the throne room apart and using the gods’ seats of power as kindling. Sometimes her power built and built and built within her, crackled and groaned just beneath the surface, fighting to claw its way free of the confines of her flesh, until she barely felt human anymore, until she became the savage incoming storm, the pressure that made your ears pop, the winds that tore trees from their roots, the clouds that blacked out the sun and the rain that threatened to flood. Until she was the roar of thunder that deafened you and the crack of lightning that blinded you.) 

(Sometimes, that scared her.) 

She shook her head, trying to clear it. It did nothing to think about all that now, Sally needed her help. (To get rid of the body of a man she’d killed because he was an abusive shitstain to her family apparently and just when Thalia had thought that woman couldn’t get any cooler. She hoped she could be even half as badass as Sally Jackson someday.) She had to focus on the here and now, stop letting her mind drag her back into the past. There was nothing she could do about the ‘then’, but she could do something in the ‘now’. 

She blinked and realized she was standing in front of Sally’s door, painted a soft cerulean blue. (It used to be baby-shit-brown, but one day Percy dragged Thalia to the building’s super, and she’d used the Mist to convince him to let Percy and Sally paint their door. They’d then dragged Thalia to the store with them to help them pick out a color and roped her into painting it with them, too.) (That had been a fun day. She and Percy had written curse words in both English and Ancient Greek all over the door in sharpie before covering it up with the fresh paint. Sally had even added a few, as well as some strange symbols Thalia didn’t recognize. She still had no idea what those had been, but Sally had seemed to relax when she was done, so Thalia just shrugged and let it be.) 

She knocked. A moment later, Sally opened the door and pulled her into a hug. 

“Thank you for coming, sweetheart. How have you been holding up?” Sally asked as she guided Thalia inside. 

“Of course, Sally, you know I, and the rest of the Hunters, love you and we’re more than happy to help anytime,” Thalia said. “And, y’know, I’ve been hanging in there, doing everything I can to try and find Percy.” Her gaze dropped from Sally’s to the floor. “I miss him. I’m-I’m so scared that we’ll never find him,” she said softly, almost afraid that saying the words out loud would make them come true. 

Sally made a quiet noise of distress and tugged Thalia into another hug, holding her tight. Thalia buried her face in Sally’s shoulder and held on tight, soaking in the comfort and trying to regain control of her breathing before she started crying. 

“I’m scared too,” Sally murmured. “But we can’t give up hope. Percy is strong and he’ll find his way back to us, we just need to have faith in that, have faith in him.” 

Thalia nodded and took a deep, shaky breath. Sally was right. They couldn’t lose hope. She knew that Percy was still out there somewhere, no doubt fighting like hell to get back to them, and they would fight just as hard to find him. If Thalia believed in nothing else, she believed in Percy. She had faith that his love and loyalty to them would bring him home. 

After a moment, she pulled back and forced a smile onto her face, though she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So,” she said. “There’s a body to get rid of?” 

Sally nodded grimly and glanced over her shoulder into the living room, where Thalia spotted a body-sized bundle of old blanket on the floor with suspicious red stains next to a rolled-up, blood-soaked rug. 

Thalia let out a low whistle and studied the large, no doubt heavy, lump. “Is Paul around?” she asked. “We may need his help carrying that thing.” 

Sally shook her head. “He’s resting. Stubborn man fought to focus on our IM and gave himself a migraine.” 

“Yeah, that’d do it.” Thalia rolled her eyes fondly. She didn’t know Paul as well as she knew Sally, but she knew the man was good for her and Percy, had believed them from the moment they told him about the Greek world and had since done his best to learn about it and see what he could manage through the Mist. Thalia knew that with practice and time, some non-clear-sighted mortals could learn to see through the Mist when they knew to look for it, but it did generally lead to headaches and bouts of dizziness and weakness. 

She walked over and dropped down, trying experimentally to lift the body. Definitely unwieldy and heavy, but not as heavy as she’d thought. If not for needing to manipulate the Mist to keep Sally from getting the police called on her, Thalia probably could have managed to carry it on her own. 

As it was, she hefted the blanket-wrapped corpse over her shoulder and, with a grunt and some effort, stood from her crouch. She staggered back a step before adjusting to the new weight, widening her stance and compensating for the added weight on her left by leaning to the right. 

Sally started and hurried over, her hands fluttering anxiously about. Thalia grinned at her. 

“Okay, I’ll need at least one hand to work the Mist, but if you hold him steady for me when that happens, I can manage like this until we get to the car.” 

“Of course. Now, the stairs will take longer, but the elevator will mean a higher chance of running into people.” Sally gave her a questioning look as she bent to grab the rug and tuck it under her arm, clearly leaving the decision up to Thalia. 

She nodded and gestured for Sally to get the door. “Let’s take the stairs. I can only convince the Mist to do so much, so we should probably avoid being seen as much as possible just to be safe.” 

Sally checked to make sure the hall was clear before ushering Thalia out. Carefully, with Sally keeping watch for any potential ‘witnesses’, they made their way down to the parking garage without incident. They ran into their first (and thankfully only) obstacle as Sally popped the trunk of Paul’s Prius and Thalia unceremoniously heaved the body off her shoulder and dropped it in the trunk. 

Behind them, someone gasped, followed by a thud. Thalia whirled around to find a little old lady getting groceries out of her car. She’d dropped the bag of fresh veggies she’d been unloading and stared at them with wide, horrified eyes, one wrinkled hand pressed to her chest. 

“Oh, Mrs. Thatcher! Let me help you with those,” Sally said like nothing was wrong and hurried over to start gathering the vegetables that had rolled away. Thalia tried her best to smile innocently as she shifted to try and block the old woman’s view into the trunk. 

“Sally, dear,” Mrs. Thatcher said, voice weak and trembling. “Who is that-that delinquent? Are you safe? Do you need me to call the police?” The lady had to be going slightly senile or something, because she clearly meant to whisper so Thalia wouldn’t hear her and instead, she damn near shouted. 

Thalia frowned. Fucking rude. Sure, she had just dumped a suspiciously body-shaped bundle in the trunk of Sally’s car, but there’s no way she looked like a danger to Sally—oh . Wait. Mrs. Thatcher had to be at least ninety and, with the cross necklace and modest dress she wore, probably an old-school conservative Christian. And here Thalia was with her whole ‘fuck society’ punk aesthetic including multiple facial piercings and copious other pieces of jewelry. The old hag probably thought she was an evil satanist or gang member or something. She rolled her eyes. 

Sally’s smile turned forced, the corners of her eyes tight. “That won’t be necessary, Mary Anne,” Sally said, voice sharp and deceptively sweet. “This is my niece. She’s helping me get rid of some old rugs since Paul is feeling under the weather.” 

Thalia forced a smile back onto her face, then snapped her fingers. “Yep, just helping my Aunt Sally move some old rugs, that’s all,” she said, reaching out with her senses to coerce the Mist to reframe the woman’s memory and change her sight. “The grocery bag was heavier than you thought and just slipped out of your hand. Sally and I helped you pick up the spill and then we all went our merry ways.” 

Mary Anne’s eyes glazed over as she nodded slowly. In a daze, the woman took her recollected bag of groceries from Sally and walked mechanically to the elevator. Thalia and Sally watched silently as she waited for the car and then disappeared inside. 

Thalia let out a breath of relief and crossed her arms. That was close. And rude. What the fuck, lady. Thalia did not feel bad about basically mind-controlling her. A hand rested on her bicep and Thalia felt a pang of fear shoot through her. Sally had never seen her, or anyone else as far as she knew, manipulate the Mist like that, manipulate a whole-ass person like that. Realistically, Thalia knew that Sally had literally asked her to do that, but knowing in theory what it would entail and actually seeing it in action were two different things. What if Sally was mad at her? Oh gods, what if Sally was disappointed in her? Oh gods, oh fuck, is this what having an actual mom felt like? Oh gods, Thalia didn’t want Sally to be upset with her, she might die. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Sally asked, and Thalia’s spiraling thoughts came to a screeching halt. 

“What?” she said eloquently. Sally snorted. 

“Mary Anne Thatcher is a batty old bitch, and what she said was entirely uncalled for,” she said sternly and shook her head. “She is terribly superficial, not to mention racist. Every time she sees me and Percy together, she makes some remark about how it was so kind of me to adopt a kid like him.” she rolled her eyes. “And really, he’s just tan. Although, Poseidon did always take on a Pacific Islander-esque form when we were together, so there could be a bit of influence in his complexion there, I suppose,” she mused, then shrugged and smiled at Thalia. “Honestly, that woman is lucky I don’t want violence in or around my home if it can be helped, otherwise I wouldn’t give a damn if she was a hundred and two, I’d still kick her ass.” 

Holy shit, Sally was so fucking cool. 

“Sally,” Thalia said seriously. “You are my favorite person ever.” 

Sally laughed and pulled Thalia in for a hug. “You’re one of my favorite people, too, Thalia.” 

— 

They didn’t talk much on the drive to Long Island; Thalia got the feeling that Sally didn’t want to tell the story more than once tonight. Instead, they spent most of it singing along to the radio blasting punk rock, classic rock, and nineties alt. By the time they neared Camp, they were both red-faced and laughing at each other’s made-up lyrics and nonsense noises in place of lines they didn’t know or couldn’t understand. 

(Thalia had been half convinced that Sally would have to pull over from how hard she’d been laughing in response to Thalia confidently yell-singing nonsense when Loser by Beck had come on.) 

Finally, Sally pulled off the road onto a little, winding trail that Thalia hadn’t even known was there when they were maybe a half mile from Camp. It led to a little gravel square and a small, overgrown patch of land that probably used to be a campsite. 

Sally parked and turned to Thalia with a smile. “Well then, shall we go find the rest of the Hunters?” 

Thalia grinned. “Let’s go get this party started.”

[water-you-doing-bro]

Oh yeah lmao if anyone's curious this au is now nearly 39k and I'm working on fully writing it rather than just a handful of scenes with hand-wavey transitions and me yapping about lore and background stuff <3

Once I'm further along w/ fully writing everything that's currently yapping and probably after I get a few new chapters written up (disclaimer: I have no idea how long this will take me, I'm inconsistent and I'm trying to adjust my usual writing style for the sake of my sanity and the hope that I'll actually 'finish' this au someday), I'll try and get it up on ao3 too!

Anyone else ever just-

*makes an au that started out as a really vague idea*

*au starts to form more clearly as you write out the vague idea*

*you think the au is full of sillys*

*au is actually characters experiencing The Horrors with a few sillys thrown in for flavor*

*you are left to stare at your document in horror as you realize the monster that your silly little vague idea has become*

[perachel-heretic]

the protestant reformation being real in solangelo's relationship makes me Think so much, mostly about silly little disagreements it would cause (beef over the eucharist, weirdly strong opinions about different books in the Bible, Nico going to bat for Mary) but also about how those backgrounds would impact their thought process when they're introduced to camp and the Gods.

I honestly cannot remember for the life of me if its canon that Will has a bookshelf with mythology texts or if its just a long held fanon belief but regardless I do think his approach would be text based. Will knows the Bible and how to read it (remembers his grandma's worn copy covered in pink highlighter and sticky notes, knows the passages his youth pastor pointed him to when he admitted to having a crush on a boy, can recite the exact verses that taught him shame) and his first reaction is to get his hands on Homer and Hesiod and Ovid and pull out his own pink highlighter to draw his own conclusions. Being a son of Apollo but also brought up to read and interpret religious text, that sort of poetry would just click in his brain. It would seem very natural to him for each camper to have a personal relationship with their godly parent, which would of course make it sting even more when it turns out Apollo doesn't really touch base all that often and he was actually lucky to even be claimed in the first place.

Nico, on the other hand, would probably not even consider that meeting a God was remotely possible even if they were real if he wasn't introduced to three of them within his first 24 hours as a demigod. It makes perfect sense that he would align himself with the minor Gods because what is a Catholic Saint if not functionally a minor God and therefore the logical first point of contact in Nico's mind. And on that note of course he's obsessed with mythomagic!! That shit is like Catholic prayer cards with stats!! He probably doesn't know much about the Bible itself, but coming from a very old and established religious culture, he knows all about art and ritual. Will probably grew up with some Kinkade-esque illustrations hung around a prayer hall, but Nico's memories of mass consist of zoning out and looking at mosaics and paintings, and then when he had those memorized moving on to architectural sculpture and endless gilded decorations. He can't name a Bible verse, but he can remember that St Lawrence is associated with the grill and a winged lion means he's looking at St Mark. When he sees the blue Will's eyes for the first time he thinks not of the sky, but of the blue of Mary's cloak, the blue of purity, virtue, and devotion. He takes to Greek art and architecture before he processes the written mythology, and after appreciating the number of male nudes he's allowed to look at, it also occurs to him that much of it is actually very, very familiar. He thinks the first statue of Apollo he sees is Christ at first before he notices the lyre. Will might be weirded out at first by the little rituals he's introduced to around camp, something buried deep in his brain yelling about demons when he incinerates his leftovers for the first time, but Nico adjusts a little easier. Incense and wine smell like his childhood, and his general creepiness might stem more from his comfort level with death and martyrdom than the underworld.

At some level I also think Nico associates divinity with sacrifice and suffering, leading him down a hero's path and contributing to a bit of self martyrdom, while Will associates it with salvation and teaching. He also feels a sort of personal responsibility for that salvation which could manifest as an evangelizing instinct but mostly urges him to heal as many people as possible.

[11queensupreme11]

Question! How would dory and Axiandros react to Percy going down into tarturas for Anthonious?

How would her other children react?

Oooh I’m they gonna be so mad

there was a very very VERY old post similar to this asking about how gods would react to it, and it's pretty similar to how the kids would react so imma just bring it back

(i couldn't find it LMAO 💀)

tartarus in ror is veeeeeery different from tartarus in pjo! in ror, it's literally just a high security prison, but in pjo, it's fucking HELL. like literal HELL. unlivable for anyone that isn't a monster

pjo tartarus is pretty similar to what helheim is like in my fic but helheim is kinda worse lmao

in my fic, helheim is survival of the fittest basically. humans deemed bad are eternally trapped there and hunted down by all kinds of monsters, gods, demons, etc. some have special eternal torment (like for ex, tantalus, sisyphus), others are just chucked there and told to survive.

humans there are basically a free-for-all; higher beings can do literally WHATEVER they want with them. beelzebub was kidnapping them for experimentation, anubis was kidnapping girls and women and killing them whenever they were a "bad potential mate", but that's not even the worst of it. human souls are tortured, devoured, raped, they go through THE WORST POSSIBLE SHIT YOU CAN THINK OF

in pjo tartarus, monsters reform there and then they leave. it's scary ofc, but they're monsters. that's their "respawn point", tartarus is livable for them. but for mortals like percy and anthonius? they do not BELONG there and they were literally dying just breathing the air and walking around. pjo tartarus is more like ror helheim; perthonius were being hunted down by monsters and gods and because they're mortal, they're incompatible with the environment and were dying because of it

but the ror gods don't know that right away!

so when they see them fall, they're going to be worried because of the fall itself, but aside from that they're gonna think "okay, they're going to tartarus. they just need to find a guard and they'll escort them out!" is what they think because ror!tartarus is just a hardcore prison. 💀💀💀💀

then comes the HORRIBLE realization of how utterly WRONG they were. they realize it's more like the rest of helheim, but in the perspective of human souls. it's painfully ironic too. the queen of helheim being hunted down and treated like a regular human soul. back in ror verse, percy was perfectly fine roaming around helheim. she doesn't like it cuz she thinks it's scary, but she was always safe because ppl there, from the gods to the monsters, recognize her as hades niece and wife (and also the devil's lol if ur asking about a harem route). she has a much higher status and is practically untouchable.

but she's back in her original universe now, as nothing more than another lowly demigod.

[droolfang]

venus fangs oc masterpost

gonna try and list my characters for y'all, will update as need be!! by no means comprehensive.

SETTING: Worth Her Weight In Gold (WHWIG)

planned fantasy novella full of wg/tf/tg shenanigans. Mostly the adventures of Amandine (a 7 foot tall draconic princess who is "worth her weight in gold" and thus fattened magically by would be ransomers) and her retainer Olivier (a transgender mommydom in the form of a nervous beanpole gentleman)

Character: Amandine

she/her, bratty princess, sometimes a dragon

Character: Olivier

he/she? depending on context. Amandine's nervous retainer

Character: Elizar

he/him, mercenary who kidnapped Amandine for ransom

Character: Daire

he/she? depending on context. kink wizard hired by Elizar to fatten Amandine

SETTING: southern fried slasher verse

characters i have with my partner based in the nebulous american south who kill and eat people

Character: Elvis

he/him, bartender and serial killing vampire

Character: Mitch

she/her, vindictive slasher tranny

SETTING: grizzoli's

series of erotic short stories involving the members of the vampiric grizzoli's circus as they hunt magical artifacts and fuck nasty

Character: Antoni

he/him, but maybe she/her??? prettyboy vampire bottom

Character: Dolby

she/her, tgirl hired muscle

Character: Mel

she/her, vampire apex predator

SETTING: d seas

pirate shenanigans w my partner

Character: Sargasso

she/her, dark magic pirate mob boss

Character: Grimleash

she/her, sargasso's left hand, bsdm pirate, tgirl with the strap representation

Character: Juno

he/him, demigod of the sun, hedonist and egotist

Character: Bax

he/she, closeted trans girl and all around backstabbing slut rogue

Character: Hound

he/him, Bax's brother, put-upon noble warrior who has just been fired

Character: Invicta

she/her, bax and hounds overbearing mother, pirate warlord

SETTING: science

mad scientist shenanigans with my partner

Character: Esme

she/her, body-mod snake woman, loves unethical experiments

Character: Ivar

he/him, stoner tboy lab assistant who oozes black ichor

Character: Mandel

all pronouns, bug who's happy to be here

SETTING: gothic fantasy

gothic fantasy shenanigans with my partner

Character: Desmond

he/him, vampire saint who keeps a woman in a cage

Character: Labrador

she/her, dream demon and noblewoman

OTHERS

Character: Marlow

she/her, govt assassin with superpowers

Character: Sable

she/her, office feedee

Character: Mordere

she/her, rat eating vampire lord

Character: Lillith

she/her, ancient vampire businesswoman

Character: Prim

she/her, lilliths familiar and airhead

Character: Vervaine

they/them, partyslut toxic alien

Character: Hugo

he/him, galactic fugitive with a body horror parasite

Character: Sagitta

he/him, alien warlord

Character: Frolick

she/her, frivolous chimera

Character: Cowsona

she/her.... my sona.... sometimes a dragon, or even a mouse

[xxlordalexanderxx]

Side Note: Some old repurposed abilities Alexander had from another verse that I dug up from an old Evernote account. Some of these he can't really use until he's conquered his dragon form

Infrared Vision/Fire Sight. 👁️

Alexander can see in infrared.

This ability is most effective during the winter however. He can see images through flames.

Fire Fang/ Hot Iron Talons. 🔥

Can heat up his teeth and claws to white hot temperatures and melt through most metals.

Divine Meteor Strike. ☄️

An extremely heavy fire and magical based attack that allows Alex to summon and launch a wave of flame engulfed meteors at a target. Can only be used in feral dragon form

Gold/Hoard/bending and general treasure manipulation. 💎

Alexander is able to manipulate mass amounts of gold and various treasures with in his hoard and ONLY such. This can span from launching torrents of treasure at an opponent with an intent of doing heavy damage or crushing them to death.

In addition Alexander can use this ability to his advantage defensively such as creating shields or welding gold onto parts of his body to form weapons/stronger armor. He can even create various gold/metal versions of his opponents. Only they are heavy and quite slow. Finally to add to this attack, Alexander can reanimate suits of armor and statues for as long as he wants until they have been destroyed or he simply stops.

👑Additional lore👑 Alexander is actually a folkloric demigod to dragons unique to Xandora, he just doesn't know it yet, and I haven't canonly reached that part of his story. So the story I had with Alex since 2016 is that the dragons native to Xandora all answer to an alpha of great and immense power. Not a full on god/deity but more powerful than a simple alpha creature, an in-between, a demonic-ish demi-god of Xandora dragons. (I guess he's considered a demon of some type cuz human bad ig he's an abomination) And after some time this power or entity will go from host to host. Alexander killed the dragon who was next in line to receive the 'gift' and instead was given it. As a punishment and an experiment because as a man he was very draconian. So a punishment fit for a beastly man. He became what he slain so many times and now has to lead, and protect them and many other beast folk.

[nardialrose]

Reading this about the variants of Medusa and Perseus traditions in different Ancient Greece regions, and cross-examination of literary and art accounts.

From Medusa as a fearsome Gorgon, with snake hair, with an ugly face, a pretty woman, chthonic being, queen of Libya, to... a horsegirl?

The double name “Gorgon / Medusa” indicates the merging of the myth of Gorgo with the local myth of Boeotia about Medusa. Poseidon, who was worshiped as a horse in Boeotia, slept with a female centaur, Medusa. The scene of Poseidon’s love mentioned by Hesiod is indeed reminiscent of the mating of wild horses in a flowered meadow. Perhaps this match explains the genesis of Pegasus: the horse Poseidon and the hippopotamus Medusa gave birth to Pegasus, the winged horse. In the same verse of Theogony, the demon Gorgo and the religious-worshiping reality associated with him are interpreted with mythical images. Due to her kinship with the chthonic powers, Gorgo belongs to the order of the Pelora (enormous monsters), and specifically to the genus of Cetus and Phorcys. Because this genus had to submit to the representatives of the state of Zeus -as required by the spirit of the 8th century BC-, the chthonic Gorgo is definitely exterminated, either by Perseus as the descendant of Cetus according to Theogony, or by Athena as the descendant of Earth, according to the tradition that has survived until Euripides. However, as far as the attribution of the myth to real events in the distant past is concerned, not every hypothesis that can be based on some sources and archaeological evidence is categorically rejected... (Lesky, 1981).

One of the oldest and most complete known sources around the myth of Perseus is the Greek poet Pherecydes, who probably lived in the first half of the 5th c. B.C. and wrote an epic in the Ionian dialect, before the Peloponnesian War. Morphologically it is definitely before the classical era. He ignored cosmogony but dealt with various genealogical myths. For Pherecydes, the ge- nealogical trees of the heroes are the guiding lines and open the way that ends later in the mythological textbook of the type of Pseudo-Apollodorus, making his work a basic source for those who dealt with the ancient myth (Lesky, 2003). According to tradition, his work was divided into ten books. In the second book of the Genealogy, from which only excerpts from Apollonius the Rhodian are preserved, he narrates the myth in detail, starting with Danae, who was the only child of Akrisius, king of Argos and Eurydice, daughter of Lacedaemon, and mother of a demigod hero Perseus (the passages are quoted by Apollonius of Rhodius and preserved in two notes: schol. Apoll. Rhod. IV. 1091, 1515; Pherecydes: FGrHist 1, 61 f., fragments 10-11) The new elements that enrich the myth are the assignment of the task of killing the Gorgon, the fossilization of Polydectes, the verification of the prophecy, and the end of Perseus after the death of his grandfather, as well as his association with the Persians. In the beheading operation he receives help from Athena and Hermes. The two gods secured the helmet of Hades for him to be invisible, winged sandals that would make him as fast as the wind and a sack (kivisis) to place the monster’s head. Medusa’s two sisters, seeking revenge for her death, persecuted Perseus, but he deceived them by wearing the helmet of Hades that made him invisible (Pherecydes, 5th c BC Genealogy, Book 2 (Pherecydes, Fragmenta), scol. Apoll. Rhod. IV.1091,1515 (Pherecydes: GGrHist1,61 f., fragments 10-11), 26.2-15 and 26.90-95). I notice that from Pherecydes the whole story of Perseus and Medusa is delivered in every detail, as it is later mentioned by Apollonius the Rhodian. The end of Perseus in Asia, where he becomes the ancestor of the Persians, I guess is related to the victories of the Greeks in the Persian wars.

Aeschylus makes two references to the Gorgons: in the Eu- menides Orestes initially thinks that the Erinyes he first sees from afar are Gorgons, without mentioning the number of fe- male figures and without any other description (Aeschylus, Eu- menides, line 48). In Libation Bearers (Χοηφόροι) again, Orestes describes the Erinyes likening them to Gorgons, as they are dressed in ash-black clothes and girded with serpentine strings (Aeschylus, Libation Bearers (Χοηφόροι), 1048). Referring to Pentheus, Euripides informs us that he was not born of a woman, but of a lioness or of the Libyan genus Gorgon. It is the first reference we find to the Libyan Gorgons (Εuripides, Bacchae, 990).

Another tradition says that Gorgon was born to Earth and was killed by Athena in the Battle of the Giants. As booty, he took the Gorgon’s head, the gorgoneion, and placed it under her auspices to neutralize her opponents (Euripides, Ion, lines 987-997). It seems that the recitations of the Homeric epics in Athens and the projection of the properties of the gorgoneion and the auspicious favored the combination of those elements, which formed the special mythological tradition that glorified the patron goddess. This Athenian myth gives a localistic explanation for the origin of the gorgoneion of the auspices of Athena, quite different from the myth widely known in various parts of Greece of the beheading of Medusa Perseus.

As the story unfolds in Ion, we receive a lot of information about the Gorgon, her nature and her qualities. A first piece of information about the rare myth of the birth of a different Gorgon comes from a verse tale between Creusa and her elder servant: Earth gave birth to Gorgon in Phlegra (Euripides, Ion, lines 987-997) 20 to help her other brothers in the battle against to the Olympian gods (Euripides, Ion, lines 987-994). According to this Athenian tradition, Gorgon who is born on the battlefield of the Giants with the Gods is the Chthonic Gorgon who gives birth to the Earth and has nothing to do with the Medusa that Perseus beheads. Athena can only fight the Gorgon with the heads of the snakes on her chest. Snakes were more suitable to deal with it, since their chthonic nature was related to an offspring of the Earth, the Chthonic Gorgon (Euripides, Ion, 1053).

In the 4th B.C. century lived Palaephatos, for whom there are few reports (Palaephatus, De incredibilibus, Festa, 1902). He was a friend of Aristotle. In his most famous work, On the Un- believers (Incredible Stories) he mentions that Gorgon was a golden statue of Athena, while Medusa was a powerful queen. According to the version of Palaephatus, Medusa is not and does not become a disgusting monster. However, she is presented as a dynamic female being (Palaephatus, De incredibilibus, 3122 ) (Garber and Vickers, 2003).

I notice that Apollodorus, in Book B of the Library, gives two very contradictory descriptions of Gorgon: in the first he presents her as a fearsome monster, with a huge head, bronze hands, golden wings, a head with serpents, wild facial features, such as boar’s teeth and eyes which petrified. The other version wants Gorgon to be so beautiful that Athena kills her because she had the arrogance to compare herself to her beauty. This contradiction gives an interpretation to the contradictory iconography, which from the 5th c. B.C. delivers both cases. The scene with Gorgo that Heracles meets in Hades is reminiscent of the corresponding scene in the Odyssey.

...A century later Pausanias, in Corinth, mentions that Medusa was a warlike queen of Libya. This myth, as well as the myths that precede Pausanias, such as those of Apollonius of Rhodes, Lucanus, Diodorus Siculus, and Ovid, I believe allude to the relations or even the wars of the Greeks with peoples of Africa.

[drag0n-fru1t17]

Stop sending asks for donations bc 1. Iam a minor and unable to donate. 2. They will not be responded to. 3. My blogs not big enough to get it across to other people.

Name(s):Zoey, Lucifer, Korey, Star, Alex, Emma, Sophia, Abby, Sammy, Jax, Eligha, Quinn (favourite are Lucifer and Jax)

Age:13

Height: no. (I'm short.)

Sexuality: I'm attracted to pans and im Polyamarous

Gender/pronouns:genderfluid, he/they/it

Fandoms I'm in: wildkrats, decendents, Riordanverse, Spider-verse, vampire diaries, once upon a time, fnaf, she-ra, how to train your dragon, hunter x hunter, my hero acadamia, demon slayer, Harry potter.

Ships:Adora x Catra, percy x annabeth, leo x Jason, piper x shel, nico x will, reyna x thalia.

People you should deffo follow:

@bisexual-bat (SHES SO COOL GUYS)

@reyna4ever (she's amazing)

@dusty-does-stuff (THEIR THE BEST)

My moots you should deffiently follow:

@iris-flower1019

@demigod-jack-hearth

@asp3n4ever

@crowwwwwwwwww

@boldofyoutoassumeicanspell

Go to this post if you want to vent or just need to talk to someone

More undercut

So I got bored and decided to make a new intro post. I'll add to it as time goes on :3

Old intro:

[pyrefication]

forged in flame by nero. / a canon & verse - dependent portrayal of 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧 from 𝙚𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜. multi - para, novella, dialogue, and generally all formats of rp style. / NOT OPEN FOR SHIPPING OR NSFW OF ANY KIND. / this blog contains ( but is not limited to ) gratuitous themes of death, violence / torture, religion, & omnipotence.

I am not the blog nor writer for you if you think a character and their portrayal equates to real life endorsement.

my use of formatting & icon - usage does not mean I expect the same from you; the point of rp is the story, not the aesthetics.

please respect the fact I am writing a demigod and I will portray him as such. avoid underestimating him, when applicable.

NOTE : I will be using some elizabethan style prose, or ' fromsoft speak ' as I call it, but will mostly keep messmer's dialogue easy to understand.

ANTI - VILLAIN / NOBLE DEMON. body horror. dying declaration of hate. A FATHER TO HIS MEN. elite army. hidden depths. HIDDEN HEART OF GOLD. honor before reason. ' vlad the impaler '. EXPLOITED. spear counterpart. snakes are sinister. TRAGIC VILLAIN. undying loyalty. trapped in villainy. THE SCAPEGOAT. " embrace thine oblivion, as shall I "

#PYREFICATION / carrd / tagged / playlist / pinboard / nero

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Twelve: Written Scene #7: The Storm

Sorry for the long wait, my darlings, but it is finally here! This part got a little away from me, I will admit. But! I had a lot of fun writing it (even though it took me so long) and I hope that y'all have fun reading it <3 Thank you for being patient with me, and I hope this part makes up for the wait (at least a little)! Now, enjoy 8.7k words of everyone getting a little fucked up 😈

A storm raged around them, violently rocking the boat as the wind and the waves savegely tore at them. Somehow, Jason managed to drag himself above deck to join the rest of his friends (save Hazel, who was busy trying not to hurl her guts out). He swept his gaze across the ship, trying to account for everyone. Leo had lashed himself to the control console with a bungee harness of some kind, Annabeth and Piper were trying to save the rigging, and the gorilla that Jason assumed to be Frank was trying to untangle some broken oars. Even Festus the dragon head was trying to help, spouting flames at the rain, though it did nothing to discourage the storm. 

The only person who seemed to be having any luck at all was Percy. Which, yeah, made sense and all, but it was still mind-boggling and more than a little disconcerting to see Percy standing there in the middle of the deck, completely dry and unbothered by the raging squall while everyone else was barely hanging on. 

It was mesmerizing, almost, to watch Percy. He stood with his eyes closed and arms outstretched to either side, palms up. When a wave crashed into the hull, Percy would tilt his head and another wave would rise up on the opposite side of the boat to level them out. He’d curl his fingers as a large wave bore down on them and an even larger wave would grow to swallow it up and stop it from reaching the deck. He jerked his chin, and the rigging Piper and Annabeth were working on righted itself. He flicked his wrist, and the broken oars gorilla-Frank had been trying to detangle went flying. 

Jason had the sudden realization that if not for Percy, the Argo II would have been capsized or smashed to bits almost immediately. It was not looking good for them.

Jason staggered his way toward the center mast, praying that he wouldn’t get knocked off his feet before he got there. Leo saw him and shouted, probably telling him to get back in bed or something, but it was impossible to hear over the storm. He just waved. 

Thankfully, he managed to reach the mast without being sent overboard by the violent rocking of the ship. Percy opened his eyes and grinned at him as soon as he got close, almost like he had somehow known that Jason was there. It was a little creepy, but Jason couldn’t care less. 

Percy was the only one who didn’t start treating him like fragile glass after his injury. Percy treated him just as he always had, seemingly trusting him to know his own limits, and Jason was beyond thankful for it. It made him feel less like he was on death row. 

Jason smiled back at the son of Poseidon and then made a frantic grab for the mast when the ship gave a sudden, particularly violent lurch. Though, to his surprise, Jason found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move. The ship lurched again but Jason remained right where he was. He tried to take a step only to find it impossible to move his leg. 

His limbs felt leaden, and he realized he couldn’t move at all. It wasn’t just his legs that had locked up, but his arms and head too. Jason panicked. What the fuck was happening to him? 

But then, just as suddenly as it had happened, it was over; the ship rocked again and Jason stumbled forward, no longer frozen in place. He latched onto the center mast, panting as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

He glanced at Percy and found the other demigod watching him with concern, though there was something else in his expression that Jason couldn’t quite figure out. (He shrugged that off, though. Ever since he and Annabeth had come back from the Pit, it wasn’t unusual to find Percy with an unreadable expression on his face and some strange emotion swirling behind his far away gaze. It was always disconcerting to see his usually grinning face wear such a tumultuous expression when he thought no one was looking. Jason didn’t know if anyone else had noticed, but he’d been allowed little else to do besides watching his friends. Shit, if Jason hadn’t been injured and practically put on bedrest by his girlfriend and best friend, he doubted that he would have noticed anything going on with Percy either.) 

Jason waved off Percy’s concern with a thumbs up and a shaky grin. Percy seemed to take that to mean that he was fine and started gesturing. 

“—THING . . . UNDER . . . STOP IT!” he shouted, though half his words were lost to the wind as he pointed over the side of the boat. 

Jason cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured vaguely at his ears. I can’t hear you, he mouthed. 

Percy huffed and rolled his eyes. He pointed first to himself then to Jason, and then over the side of the ship again. He mimed diving into the water and pointed at the two of them again. 

Jason tried to convey ‘You want me to go with you? Are you sure?’ and ‘I can’t breathe underwater, dude’ with his expression. 

Percy rolled his eyes again and pointed at the storm clouds roiling above them, then took a running leap and dived overboard. 

Jason looked up to see Piper and Annabeth giving him matching ‘Are you crazy?’ looks, to which he just smiled and shrugged. He turned his attention to the storm and his eyes widened as he sensed angry venti swirling around up there. How the fuck had Percy known they were up there before he did? 

Whatever, that would be a question for another time. Right now, he needed to find a way to follow Percy. 

Jason stretched out his arm and imagined his will as a rope of wind, flinging it into the swirling mob of venti. He sought out the nastiest ventus he could find and snared it with his wind rope, tugging it down to form a cocoon around him as he jumped into the water. 

Immediately, he was surrounded by an eerie silence, his own breathing nearly deafening in comparison. It sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. 

He scanned the water around him through the filter of his personal cyclone. (Which, thankfully, allowed him to breathe. The air smelled strongly of ozone and the ventus was definitely not happy with the arrangement, but at least it was breathable air and Jason was strong enough to force the wind spirit to remain in place.) There was something about the ocean that had always set Jason on edge, more than the Roman’s hatred of it and his father’s rivalry with Neptune. 

It was similar enough to the sky, Jason supposed, in that they both stretched as far as the eye could see. But the sky had nothing to hide. Even full of clouds, nothing could remain obscured in the sky for long. The ocean, however, Jason shuddered. There was so much they didn’t know about it, more than just mythological beings and creatures evaded the notice of everyone who sought to know the oceans. So much was still unknown and unexplored, and the light only reached so little. 

Anything could be lurking in the depths of the oceans. Anything could be waiting just out of sight, hidden by the cloying darkness of deeper waters. 

In the sky, Jason felt secure, always aware of everything around him, cocooned in a blanket of wind and air. But underwater, Jason felt horribly exposed. His senses couldn’t expand into the area around him like they could in the sky, and he couldn’t sense let alone see all of his blind spots at all times. He was just out in the open, unprotected and unprepared; he would have no clue if something snuck up behind him, no time to react if something came hurtling out of the dark to attack him. 

Thalassophobia, Jason thought he’d heard it called before: the fear of large bodies of open water; although ‘fear’ didn’t feel like the right word, didn’t quite cover the absolute terror that gnawed on his bones. 

And here, floating in the middle of nowhere in the open ocean in his little personal tornado of lassoed air, a violent storm raging on the surface above him and who knows what waiting who knows how far below him. 

With nothing but dark, gloomy water surrounding him, Jason was terrified. 

But then, he spotted Percy. 

The son of Poseidon hung suspended in the dark water, illuminated only by the soft bronze glow of his sword. His long, inky black hair seemed to leach the light out of the water surrounding him as it floated around his head like a dark halo, dancing in some imperceptible current. His outline flickered, his form broken in places and replaced by dark, writhing masses of tentacles and stark, bony protrusions. He looked both unimaginably large, as ancient as the oceans themselves and just as monstrous, and like his skin was stretched too thin over bones that were too long with edges too sharp to be wholly human. He was dark and all-encompassing, filling the water with an inescapable presence, yet he was also pale and haunting, skin near translucent as it gave off an eerie glow. 

His body was threatening to rip apart at the seams, unable to contain the esoteric power lurking just beneath the surface. An arcane aura leaked from his ruptured mortal form, permeating the ocean around him and filling Jason’s mind with static. 

The eldritch creature playing at mortality turned its head to look at him and Jason realized that he had never felt true terror until that moment. Its face was that of nightmares; it had no lips, just thin, bloody ribbons of flesh stretched too far across a dark, gaping maw filled with rows and rows of razor-sharp serrated teeth. Its eyes were unsettlingly vivid, as though the saturation of the creature’s eyes had been dialed up to eleven, swirling blue-green voids that lacked sclera and pupils. Within those effervescent eyes, Jason swore he could see all the world’s oceans at once; raging storms and roaring waves, plunging trenches and abyssal depths dark enough to drive one mad. 

Its very presence emanated a dissonant, distorted screeching that Jason could feel vibrating through his bones, filling the surrounding water with static. Jason thought his eardrums might burst with the intensity of the high-pitched ringing and feared his insides might liquify from the infra- and ultrasonic frequencies he could feel quivering through his flesh and bones. 

Jason felt his mind begin to fracture as he stared at the being before him, pressure built behind his eyes and limbs seemed to have turned to jelly. He knew he needed to look away before his mortal body exploded or something, but he was powerless to make himself move, trapped in the vortex of its aura. He felt drawn to the creature, unable to bring himself to avert his gaze. He had no control over his body, locked in place by the deity’s whirlpool eyes. 

A scream built in his throat, but he had no breath with which to voice it. He teetered on the brink of madness, but he had nothing to grasp at to pull himself away from the edge. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him, but he couldn’t hear it over the static filling his head. He wanted to claw at his ears until it stopped and left him in blissful silence, he wanted to scratch out his eyes to relieve the pressure that had made a home behind them, he wanted to tear himself open to assure himself that the pounding in his chest was that of his still-beating heart and not some vestigial part of the monster looming before him. He needed to fill the yawning, cavernous void that had taken up residence in the place where his lungs should have been. 

His blood moved sluggishly through his veins where they burned beneath his skin. He was coming apart, his atoms threatening to fly apart, on the verge of disintegrating. He was nothing more than a tiny pest to this primordial of the seas, barely worth the effort it took this eldritch horror to kill him. His being was infinitesimal in comparison to this primeval monster, little more than a speck of dust floating through its waters. This was all the waters of the earth given form, and it was enraged at their treatment. And in that moment, he knew. 

He was going to die. 

Then, everything snapped back into place and Jason gasped. 

Air, sweet, ozone-scented air, filled his lungs and Jason could have cried. He clutched his chest and heaved frantic breaths into his aching lungs. He looked up and saw Percy hovering in front of him with a worried expression on his now normal-looking face. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he searched Percy’s face for any trace of the Lovecraftian nightmare that had been clawing its way out of his skin just moments before. 

“Jason, hey, are you alright, dude? You with me?” Percy said, though Jason had no idea how he could hear him so clearly under the water. He nodded slowly and ignored Percy’s puzzled look. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, man. Sorry, just not a fan of the open ocean I guess,” Jason said and tried to laugh it off. 

Percy’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intense and searching, boring into Jason’s soul as though he could pluck the truth from Jason’s psyche if he stared long enough. Thankfully, though, before Jason could buckle under the strength of Percy’s gaze, a beam of bright green light split the darkness in front of them like a spotlight before it disappeared, coming from the depths of the chasm Percy had been hovering over the edge of. 

Percy snapped his head around to stare over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. “I was waiting for you before going to check it out, but I’d bet that whatever is causing this storm, is also the source of that light,” he said, glancing back at Jason. “Come on, let’s go.” 

As they sank deeper and deeper into the chasm and fell further and further away from the sun, Jason couldn’t shake the horrifying vision from his mind or the sense of unease in his stomach. It grew darker and darker until the only light came from Percy’s sword. 

Though, if Jason looked too long at his friend, he could swear that Percy began to glow too; an eerie, pale blue light seemed to emanate from strange markings on his skin, as though he was bioluminescent or something. A handful of his scars shed golden light into the water as his eyes illuminated the way ahead of them like headlights. It was fucking creepy, Jason thought, if kinda fascinating. (He wondered if Percy knew that he glowed, if Annabeth knew. He wondered if Percy only became bioluminescent underwater, or if he would light up in a dark room, too. Despite his curiosity, though, Jason couldn’t bring himself to say anything to the other demigod, the image of the savage creature tenuously caged beneath his skin still too fresh on Jason’s mind.) 

Eventually, the water began to lighten around them, and Jason saw the glowing ruins of a palace or something appear out of the dark haze before them. As they drifted toward the remains of a partially collapsed dome, Jason stared around the ruins with wide-eyed amazement. 

“What do you think this place was?” Jason asked reverently, yearning to reach out and run his fingers along the crumbling structures but unwilling to risk breaching his ventus cocoon just yet to do so. “Atlantis?” 

Percy snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, Atlantis is just a myth.” 

Jason squinted at his friend. “Uh, don’t we literally deal with myths like, everyday? Aren’t we technically a myth ourselves?” 

Percy rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “You know what I mean, dude. Atlantis is a made-up myth, not, like, an actually true myth. Plus, Plato never intended anyone to believe in Atlantis, it was only ever meant to be a parable, to serve as an allegory to the hubris of nations and a cautionary tale warning against its dangers.” He shrugged. “All that flew over a lot of people’s heads though, and the original purpose of the Lost City of Atlantis was overshadowed by a bunch of idiots and their desire to find a place that was never real.” 

Jason gave Percy an incredulous, wide-eyed stare. 

“What?” Percy asked, defensive. “My mom is a published author, my stepdad is an English Lit teacher, and I’m dating Annabeth who loves ancient Greek philosophers and playwrights. I pick up a thing a two.” 

Jason often forgot that Percy was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for, and he was pretty sure that was something Percy did on purpose. It was something he’d noticed about the son of Poseidon before, but he played the part of ‘dorky fool’ so well that it was nearly impossible not to fall for the act. Though he was never sure if it was an act that Percy himself actually believed or not. 

But rather than bring that up right then, Jason just shrugged and held his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough, Jackson,” he laughed. “But if not Atlantis, then what was it?” 

“I don’t know,” Percy said, face scrunched up in concentration. “But it feels familiar, like I’ve been here before or something . . .” he trailed off, leaning in to study some markings carved into the domed roof in front of them. 

“Maybe you have,” Jason said playfully. “Maybe you saw it in one of your weird-ass dreams; I’ve been told that they’re a lot more intense and prophetic than the average demigod’s.” 

“Oh, shut up, Grace,” Percy snarked back. “My dreams suck ass, but they’re not anything special. Besides, I always remember my dreams. This is something else.” He reached up to ghost his fingers over one of the markings. 

Then, that brilliant green spotlight flashed directly beneath them, blinding Jason for a moment. 

He dropped like a stone until his feet hit what felt like solid marble. When he finally managed to blink the spots from his eyes, he realized that they’d found the source of the storm. 

An ethereal woman in a flowing green dress cinched at her waist with a belt of abalone shells hovered before them. She had to have been close to twenty feet tall, though she shrank to something closer to ten at their startled entrance. Her skin was a soft, luminous white, mirroring the fields of algae covering the underwater ruins. Her hair fell across her shoulders in gossamer strands reminiscent of jellyfish tentacles, some swaying as though caught in a gentle current. Her face was as haunting as it was beautiful; her eyes too bright, her features too delicate, and her smile too cold, as though she’d studied human behavior but hadn’t quite managed to master replicating it. 

Before her stood a tall, marble pedestal, atop which rested a large, mirrored disk. Her long, slender fingers danced along its edge before she sent it spinning, and the green light cut through the water again. The water churned, shaking the palace ruins. Shards of stone from the domed ceiling broke off and slowly sank down to settle on the marble floor. 

“You’re causing the storm,” Jason said, careful to keep the accusation from his voice. 

The woman laughed, a sharp, violent sound like the crashing of waves. “That I am,” she said. Her voice was melodious, though it had a strange resonance, one that reminded him of the horrible ringing sound the creature clawing its way free of Percy’s form had emanated, like it extended beyond the range humans had the ability to process. That same, static pressure built up behind Jason’s eyes and his sinuses threatened to explode. 

Percy, both thankfully and annoyingly, appeared unaffected. He just tilted his head and squinted at her. “I’ll bite,” he said, and Jason saw a flash of that dark, gaping maw full of razor-sharp fangs. “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?” 

A manic glee sparked in the woman’s eyes and her smile sharpened, sending an involuntary shiver down Jason’s spine. “Why, I am your sister, Percy Jackson. And I wanted the chance to meet you before you die.” 

Percy tilted his head and squinted at the goddess. Jason tried to resist the urge to reach up and massage his sinuses which still felt like they were about to explode. 

Percy hummed and crossed his arms. “Y’know, I’m not super well-versed in mythology involving Dad, so I’m not sure who all my godly siblings are, but . . .” he gave the goddess a long, considering look before he nodded. “I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say you’re Kymopoleia, goddess of violent sea storms if I remember correctly?” 

The goddess’s eyes widened slightly in shock. “Most have never heard of me, little brother. I am surprised, yet none-the-less pleased that you do know me.” 

Percy shrugged. “At some point after I accidentally blew up Mount St. Helens—” 

Jason choked on air and started coughing. “After you what?” he asked incredulously, but Percy and Kymopoleia ignored him and continued on as though he hadn’t said anything. 

“—I’m pretty sure I heard Dad mutter something under his breath like, ‘I pray you never meet Kymopoleia,’ and I got curious, so I looked into the name.” He shrugged again. “Oh, and I’m just gonna call you Kym. Kymopoleia is a bit of a struggle and also it takes too long.” 

Jason watched the interaction carefully. Percy spoke so casually to the goddess it kind of freaked Jason out. But he’d heard enough stories to know that it was common practice for the son of Poseidon to be so irreverent. 

For her part, Kym appeared amused rather than angry at least. 

“I’ll consider it an honor to get a Perseus Jackson nickname before you die,” she said with another spin of her disk. 

“I don’t suppose catching our ship in your massive storm was an accident, was it?” Percy asked with a resigned sigh. 

“No, no it was not,” she said. 

“And there’s no chance that you’ll cut it out if we ask nicely?” 

“Not a one. Though I am rather impressed that your ship has held together this long; excellent workmanship.” 

Sparks flew along Jason’s arms and into his ventus tornado. He thought about Piper and Leo, Annabeth and Frank and Hazel up there frantically fighting to survive the storm. He and Percy had left them defenseless up there. They had to end this and they had to end it soon. 

“My Lady,” Jason broke in before Percy could say anything to potentially aggravate the goddess, “Is there anything we can do to get you to change your mind and let us get on our way?” 

Kym turned her faintly glowing eyes to him and tilted her head. “Son of Jupiter,” she said dryly. “Do you know where we are? What this place once was?” 

“Uh,” he said, glancing at the crumbling structure around them. “These ruins? Uh, maybe it was a palace at some point?” 

Percy snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Dad’s new place in the Atlantic looks pretty similar to this. Last I was over there, it was almost done.” 

Jason gave Percy an incredulous look. He’d actually been to his father’s domain? To his palace? What the fuck was with this guy and the gods? 

Kym made a frustrated noise and crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t know,” she huffed. “I’m not allowed in our father’s court. He finds my presence disruptive,” she hissed, and gave her storm-disk a harsh spin. 

“I can’t imagine why.” Jason gave her a skeptical look as the ruins shook and more pieces fell slowly through the water around them. 

“I know!” she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I am an absolute delight to be around! I’m certainly better company than my total bore of a brother Triton,” she pouted and crossed her arms again. 

“Ugh, definitely!” Percy agreed. “I’ve met Triton and honestly, he’s such a pain in the ass!” 

Kym smiled. “Finally!” she said. “Someone who sees sense! He is such a πομπώδης μαλάκας!” 

Whatever that last thing meant, Jason had no idea as the Ancient Greek didn’t come to him, but he could only assume it was some kind of insult because Percy laughed. 

“Exactly! He never shuts up! He’s all ‘I am Father’s heir’ and ‘Father only likes you because you’re useful’ and it’s just like, ‘look, you absolute douche-nozzle, you’re both immortal! You’re not gonna inherit shit, ass-wipe,’ I mean, honestly!” Percy said, presumably mimicking Triton with comically furrowed brows and a fierce scowl, his chest puffed up and chin raised to look down his nose at an imaginary person. 

Kym burst into giggles (which reminded Jason of the clicks and whistles of dolphins). “Oh my—He sounds just like that!” she said, doubling over and clutching her stomach as she laughed. “Oh, that is just perfect,” she snickered. “I can see why Father hoped we might never meet, Perseus. You and I would have gotten along splendidly.” 

“Just Percy, please,” Percy said with a playful bow. “Only my enemies call me Perseus and I’d really prefer if I didn’t have to fight you.” 

Kym let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t want to fight you either, little brother,” she said. “Unfortunately, Gaea really wants your blood, and she’s made me a wonderful offer that I just couldn’t refuse.” she shrugged and flashed a shark-like smile. “Gaea will allow me to wreak whatever havoc I please once she has risen so long as I help her and her children destroy the gods.” 

Jason tensed as the water around them seemed to shudder, he saw Percy do the same. He pulled his gold coin from his pocket and flipped it to summon his sword. 

“Now, I believe there’s someone here who is just dying to see you again, Percy. I do hope you can forgive me.” Kym gave them a faux-apologetic look. 

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” a thunderous voice boomed, sending ripples through the water and making the ruins tremble. 

Percy’s face twisted into a dark, angry scowl. 

“Do you know who that is?” Jason asked, tightening his grip on his sword. 

“Polybotes,” Percy snarled. “The anti-Poseidon. I’ve already killed him once; I guess he really wants a rematch.” 

Just then, the Giant rounded a corner ahead of them and Jason barely stopped a disgusted noise from escaping him. He’d thought the other Giants he’d met had been ugly, but Polybotes might just take the cake. 

Even underwater, the guy managed to look greasy and oily, like he had never heard of a shower before. He was absolutely massive, towering close to thirty feet or more in height if Jason had to guess. Like all Giants, he had scaled reptilian legs. His hair hung like shriveled up seaweed around his face. His skin was a murky blue, like the color of poluted water. His eyes were sharp and cruel as a hungry smirk spread across his harsh, mottled face. When he shook his head, basilisks fell from his hair and began circling in the water, hissing and letting out little bursts of flame. 

“I hunted you through Tartarus, son of Poseidon, and you managed to escape me then, but there will be no escape for you now!” Polybotes laughed cruelly. 

Percy snorted and raised his sword. “I killed you before with only a river to lend me strength; what makes you think you stand a chance against me here in mY dOmAIn?” Percy snarled, lips curled up in an equally cruel grin. His voice reverberated through the water the same way that eerie ringing that emanated from that creature hiding beneath his skin had. It shuddered through Jason’s bones and the pressure that had finally begun to fade from his sinuses returned with a vengeance. 

Polybotes barked out a laugh. “HA! Whether you are stronger here or not, little demigod, you cannot kill me without the aid of a god. And there are no gods here willing to aid you, sea scum.” 

Percy’s grin turned sharp and deadly as his form seemed to ripple, the monstrous horror lurking within his flesh straining at the seams to get free. “WHaT maKeS YOu tHiNk I NEeD a gOd?” 

He lunged. 

A few of the basilisks hurled themselves at him, but Percy turned them to dust with one sweep of his sword. Polybotes swung his trident through the water and left an arc of some thick, oily looking substance in its wake. 

Percy barreled right through it without slowing down and the smug look on the Giant’s face turned to shock then indignance before settling on rage. 

“I will torture you under the sea! Each day the water will heal you, and each day you will suffer worse than the last! I will bring you to the brink of death and beyond the edge of mortal agony until you beg for me to kill you, until I have reduced you to nothing more than a quivering mass of flesh desperate to die.” Polybotes snarled. “But you will only know the relief of death when your blood is drained from your wretched body to awaken the Earth Mother. You will die with the knowledge that your last act has brought about the violent end of everyone you love.” 

By then, Percy was on top of the Giant, fighting like a man possessed. He growled low in his throat and swung his sword in a vicious arc, leaving a deep gash on the Giant’s leg when he was too slow to block the attack. 

Polybotes howled and swung his trident. It slammed into Percy’s chest and sent him hurtling through the water to crash through a wall. He recovered quickly enough and shot towards the Giant, spearing through the water faster than Jason could track. Sword met trident and when their weapons clashed it sent a shockwave through the water. 

Jason gripped his own sword tightly and prepared to jump into the fight to help his friend, but before he could do so, the remaining basilisks zeroed in on him. The poisonous, fire-breathing snakes circled around him, hissing and snapping at him. Anytime one of them got too close, Jason managed to cut off its head. But the serpents grew bolder, swimming closer and closer to him. They stopped attacking one at a time and tried to rush him. 

Jason closed his eyes, sent up a prayer that he wouldn’t fry Percy, himself, or Kym, and lifted his sword toward the sky. He called down brilliant arcs of lightning and let out a breath of relief as they struck the dozen basilisks swarming around him. The snakes went belly up in the water before crumbling to dust. 

Percy and Polybotes continued their death match. Percy seemed to be doing just fine, ruthlessly attacking the Giant, slicing and stabbing relentlessly; but Jason could see the smoke curling off his skin as it blistered and sizzled. Whatever substance had spread from the Giant’s trident, some sort of poison or acid if Jason had to guess, was affecting his friend. And despite Percy’s, frankly unnerving, claim, Jason knew he’d need a god to kill Polybotes and there was only one available to them at the moment. 

Jason turned to Kymopoleia. She was watching Percy and Polybotes fight with a fascinated look on her face, totally enraptured by the carnage her half-brother gleefully unleashed on Poseidon’s Bane. 

“Kym,” he said, “What if I make you a better offer than Gaea did?” 

The goddess hardly acknowledged him, merely letting out a noncommittal hum. 

“She promised that you could cause raging storms to your heart’s content, but Gaea and the Giants are going to kill every mortal and demigod, wipe them off the face of the earth. What good is it to finally be able to ravage coastlines and annihilate shorelines when there’s no one left to cower and tremble in fear of you?” he cajoled her. 

“I do like cowering,” she said absently, not tearing her eyes from where Percy had dropped his sword and begun to cave the Giant’s face in with his fists. Jason winced at the sharp, resounding crack of Percy breaking Polybotes’ nose. 

“Yes! If Gaea and the Giants win, no one will be left for you to terrorize! If you help us, I-I'll make sure you are worshiped! I’ll build you a temple at each camp and-and I’ll do the same for all the gods and goddesses pushed aside by the Olympians,” he said frantically, watching Polybotes slam Percy to the ground with one massive hand wrapped around his torso, no doubt crushing his ribs. He winced when Percy let out a strangled cry of pain and turned desperately back to Kymopoleia to try and gauge her emotions on his offer. 

“Polybotes, does Gaea have a counteroffer?” she called to the Giant, face impassive. 

Polybotes turned his head to give her an incredulous look. “Counteroffer?” he sputtered indignantly. “Mother Earth does not need to make a counteroffer to the inane ramblings of a puny half-blood! She is offering you unfettered control of the seas! You will be allowed to let your storms rage to your heart’s content!” he said, affronted. 

“Yes, but will there be demigods or mortals or really anyone left to cower in the face of my storms or worship me in hopes of appeasing my wrath? Will I get my own action figure?” Kym said evenly, raising an eyebrow and looking down to inspect her nails which Jason only just noticed were colored a pale, florescent pink. 

“Well, no, bu—” Polybotes started, only to cut himself off with a cry of pain when Percy managed to free himself from the Giant’s grip by maneuvering his pen out of his pocket and uncapping it so that the blade of his sword sprung out and impaled itself right through Polybotes’ palm. The Giant snatched his hand back to cradle against his chest and Percy lunged after him with a feral snarl. 

Percy moved so quickly, Jason was barely able to piece together what happened. The son of Poseidon reached out and it was like the water solidified into an extension of his will, yanking his sword from Polybotes’ hand and meeting it halfway. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and shot straight for the Giant’s face. He plunged the bronze blade down and buried it to the hilt in one of Polybotes’ acid green eyes. 

The Giant howled in pain and Percy yanked his sword free, quickly backing away as Polybotes reached up to clap his hands over his bleeding eye. 

“You will pay for that, half-blood sum!” he roared. 

Golden ichor wept from his numerous wounds, seeping steadily between his fingers from his damaged eye and the hole in his palm. It saturated the water, hovering in shimmering globules. The Giant stared Percy down with his one good eye, pure hatred simmering behind his gaze. 

“Please,” Jason pleaded with Kym. “Only a god and a demigod working together can kill a Giant. Please, help Percy finish him off before it’s too late!” 

Kymopoleia merely shook her head, lips spreading in a feral grin as that spark of manic glee glinted in her eyes again. She cackled, a sound like cracking stone being split apart by an enormous earthquake, and it sent a shiver down Jason’s spine. 

“I do believe my little brother would beg to differ, Jason Grace,” she said, tone carrying a hint of that unhinged, feral excitement he could see spread across her features. 

Jason whipped his head around to stare in horrified fascination as all the ichor in the water began to flow in one direction, condensing into one quivering golden orb. Ichor seemed to flow from Polybotes’ wounds faster than it should have, like it was being pulled from his veins in thick rivers of divine blood, drawn towards the glittering ball. Polybotes sank through the water, hitting the sandy floor with a dull thud as his knees gave out on him. His hands fell from his face, as though he no longer had the strength to hold them there. Jason could see as the color leeched from him, seeping away with the ichor as it fled his body. Polybotes seemed unable to move, frozen in place where he knelt. 

The temperature of the water dropped several degrees and Jason shivered. 

“Wh-what is this?” Polybotes bellowed, feigning outrage, but the undercurrent of fear in his voice gave away how scared he truly was. He stared at Percy, one good eye wide and afraid. 

Jason turned to his friend. At first, he thought it was just a reflection of all the ichor in the water. But then, Jason came to the terrifying realization; it wasn’t a mere reflection. Percy’s eyes glowed a vivid gold, the same color as the ichor he was draining from the Giant’s veins. 

His face was dark, his features standing out sharp and cruel as he appeared to loom over Polybotes. That monstrous, ancient nightmare slipped through the seams of Percy’s flesh, leeching away all light until all that was left was the eerie glow of Percy’s golden eyes. 

His teeth flashed in the dark, long and curved, reminding Jason of the Cheshire cat’s grin. Jason swore that he could see things moving in the dark; massive, undulating limbs and sharp, ghoulish protrusions. Bones that snapped and cracked as they moved, gnashing teeth and glowing eyes where they didn’t belong. 

“YOu sAy tHat yOu FOLlowEd mE THrouGh tARtArUs, aNd yEt YoU HAvE nO iDeA WHaT i lEaRNeD tO DO dOwN THerE, whAT I wAS fORcED tO PIcK uP IN oRdER tO sUrvIVe?” Percy barked out a cruel laugh as his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, sending tremors through the ocean floor. It was so deep, Jason could feel it vibrating through his bones and hollowing out his chest. Yet it was also so high, it sent his ears ringing and made his head feel like it was about to explode. 

Jason recalled the time he had been too slow to close his eyes and had, for just a moment, witnessed Juno’s true form. That had felt like he was on fire, like his skin was about to slough off his bones as his eyes melted out of his skull. It had felt like his cells were imploding and withering away into ash. 

But this— 

This felt like drowning on dry land; it was like he was being ripped apart from the inside out, his lungs had disappeared and the hollowness that had forced itself into the space where his heart should have beat was slowly filling with water. His mind was being pulled into a black hole, fraying at the edges and threatening to tear apart at the center. His eyes were being pushed from their sockets to make room for steadily mounting pressure building in his skull. He could feel water bubbling up his throat, choking him, forcing its way out between his lips and flooding into every empty space it could find. Water began to leak from his nose where it had filled his sinuses, began to stream from his empty eye sockets and gush from his busted eardrums. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, his voice lost to the torrent of water that eroded blood and bone until all that remained was a flimsy shell of decayed and rotting flesh. 

He swore he could hear a roaring, but that made no sense as he had to have gone deaf with the water pouring from his ears. Pressure built and built and built past the point of unbearable. 

There was a primal, agonized roar followed by an ear-splitting pop. And then: blissful silence. 

Calm swept over him like a warm breeze, and he felt like he was being wrapped in a silky blanket. He sighed and let himself sag into the gentle hands wrapping the blanket around him. He soaked in the quiet, peaceful moment languidly. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and immediately flailed around. 

Jason let out a rather undignified squawk and scrambled to pull away from Kymopoleia, who was looking down at him with an amused expression. The silky blanket he thought he’d been wrapped in was actually a gauzy, membranous shawl the goddess had pulled from her own shoulders and the gentle hands had been hers as well. He noticed with a start that his ventus shield had disappeared and slapped a hand over his mouth and nose as he instinctively gasped. 

Only when he heard Kym chuckle did he finally realize that he was, in fact, breathing and not drowning due to a bubble of air surrounding his head and neck like a diving helmet. 

He glanced to the side and saw Percy watching him with a worried frown, wringing his hands together. Jason returned his wide-eyed stare to the goddess and continued to gape for a moment. 

Eventually, Jason shook his head in an attempt to clear it and gulped, biting his lip as his gaze flit between Percy and Kym, both watching him quietly, one with concern and the other with bemusement. 

“Uh,” he said eloquently. “What, um, what happened?” 

Percy ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but before he could say anything, Kym spoke up. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, Pontifex. Polybotes is dead. And I have decided to accept your offer.” Kym looked down at him smugly and for a moment, Jason was confused. 

Offer? What offer? And—had she called him Pontifex? What was that abou— 

Oh. Right. He had offered to build shrines to all the minor deities and make sure they were all worshiped. (And—was he remembering right?—I also promised Kym an action figure, I think? What the fuck, Jason thought.) 

“Oh, uh, awesome. Thank you,” he said somewhat falteringly. 

“I expect a truly magnificent action figure, Jason Grace,” she said. “One of those articulated ones and it had better reflect my stunning beauty. I’d be happy to visit and model for reference.” Kym’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and Jason fought the urge to fidget. 

“O-of course,” he stuttered, and honestly, what the hell are you supposed to say to that? Cut him some slack, it’s a weird ass situation he has found himself in. 

“Wonderful,” Kym said, and turned to Percy, making Jason look at his friend too. 

Percy was wringing his hands nervously and biting his lip, gaze flitting around like he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. Jason frowned. He was about to ask Percy what was wrong when Kym spoke up again. 

“It was wonderful to meet you, little brother. I look forward to getting to know you better if you survive this war. I believe we could have much fun together.” She reached out and ruffled Percy’s hair with a laugh when he swatted her hand away. 

Percy gave Kym a small smile in return but still didn’t quite meet her eyes. He turned to Jason, expression tensing a little. 

“We should probably get back,” he said, gesturing vaguely upward. “Now that the storm’s stopped, before everyone starts worrying about us too much. If we’re not back soon, Annabeth will probably jump overboard to come looking for me.” he shrugged. He was still avoiding Jason’s gaze, and it looked like his skin was still smoking in places. 

Before Jason could say anything about that, Percy said, “Come on,” and shot toward the surface. 

He turned his startled gaze to Kymopoleia, wanting to ask her for more answers. She must have seen it in his eyes because she gave him a melancholic smile. 

“Percy is far more powerful than he likes to let on, Pontifex,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “He has more power than a demigod should, and I believe that he is finding it harder and harder to control. Both he and Polybotes mentioned him having walked through Tartarus. I imagine something happened down there to push him over the edge.” She glanced upward, tracking Percy’s receding form through the water for a moment before continuing. “My brother is an impossibly good person, Jason Grace.” she fixed him with an eerie, unwavering stare, her overly bright eyes flashing. “But there is something damaged in him, something that broke down in that Pit. He has crossed a line that he cannot come back from even if he wanted to. I’ve heard that his fatal flaw is loyalty, so you have no need to fear him, nor do any of your friends. But remain wary, son of Jupiter, else you get caught in the crossfire of his rage.” 

With that final, ominous warning, Kymopoleia disappeared in a whirl of bubbles and froth, leaving Jason to slowly begin the long swim back to the surface. When he finally reached the opening of the trench, he found Percy waiting for him, floating peacefully in the water. 

Jason swam up beside him and waited quietly for what Percy would say. 

After a moment, Percy twisted his head to face him. “Sorry for leaving you behind like that,” he said. “I forgot you didn’t have your personal tornado to help you keep up,” he joked half-heartedly and gave Jason a weak smile. 

“It’s alright,” Jason said, smiling back. “I wanted to say goodbye to Kym first, and you seemed like you really needed to get out of there.” 

Percy sighed. “Yeah, I did.” he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders, drawing in on himself slightly. “Speaking of Kym, what’s the deal with the action figure she mentioned? And why did she call you a car?” 

Jason snorted. “Not Pontiac, Pontifex. The Romans used to have someone called the Pontifex Maximus, a high priest who took care of the gods’ temples, made sure they were all recognized and worshiped, given proper offerings and things like that. While you were fighting Polybotes I made Kym an offer, to try and convince her to stop the storm and help you kill him. I promised to make sure temples were built for all the gods deemed ‘less important’ than the Olympians. The action figure idea just kinda happened? I don’t really know where it came from. I was kinda frantic, just saying whatever came to mind that I thought might sway her.” he shrugged. “You were holding your own just fine, but you looked to be in rough shape, too. Whatever that stuff Polybotes created that you swam through was, your skin was sizzling. You’re still smoking a little, too, by the way.” 

Percy glanced down at his arms, tilting his head at the new, quickly forming burn-like scars there. “Yeah, it was some kind of acid, I think. It hurt like a bitch, and definitely didn’t help my lungs any.” he shrugged and uncrossed his arms. “But I’ll be fine. The water’s already taken care of the worst of it; a little nectar or ambrosia and I’ll be all healed with a few more scars to add to the collection.” 

Percy rolled his shoulders and straightened, glancing up where Jason could see the shadow of the Argo II floating in the water above them. “Now come on,” Percy said. “I think Piper and Annabeth are getting ready to jump overboard.” 

Jason laughed, letting the topic change slide. If Percy didn’t want to talk about what had really happened with Polybotes, Jason wouldn’t force it. He just hoped Percy knew that he could come to him. Their fathers may have a rivalry to end all rivalries, but he didn’t want that for him and Percy. 

This time, as they rose through the water, Percy propelled Jason up alongside him. As soon as their heads broke the surface, Jason saw Annabeth getting ready to swing herself over the railing and drop into the water with Piper barely half a step behind her. 

“Percy!” Annabeth called when she spotted them, proceeding to dive off the ship. Jason raised his arms to shield his face as she hit the water with a truly impressive splash. Percy just laughed and swept her into his arms, lifting her half out of the water and spinning around. Annabeth laughed in delight as Percy threw himself backwards and they sank just under the surface. 

Jason wasn’t worried, though, having learned about Percy’s little air bubble trick, and instead began to paddle his way towards the rope ladder Piper had tossed over the side of the ship. 

When he finally swung up and over the railing, planting his feet on the blessedly solid deck of the Argo II, Piper threw herself at him, muttering angrily in Tsalagi, no doubt cursing at him for acting like an idiot. Jason just smiled and hugged her close, pressing his lips to her dark hair when she buried her face in his chest. 

After a moment, she pulled away and wiped angrily at the tears in her eyes, glaring at him. 

“What is wrong with you?” she cried, smacking his shoulder. “You can’t do that to me! You can’t just-just jump overboard in the middle of a massive storm like that! Especially not when you’re severely injured—!” she gestured at his stomach, frustration and fear coloring her tone. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Pipes,” he said, interrupting her gently. “But Percy needed my help, and I’m fine, I promise. No further harm done. See?” He lifted his shirt, stepped back, and spun around, letting her look him over for any sign of hurt. Honestly, he felt fine; great even! Hell, he felt better than he had since Michael Varus had run him through. 

When he finished his little one-eighty, he noticed Piper staring at his stomach with wide eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing down to try and figure out what she was seeing. 

His bandages had come loose in the water, sagging a little to reveal the upper edge of his wound, only . . . only there was nothing but smooth, tan skin where there should have been torn and reddened flesh. His mouth dropped open and he carefully tugged the bandages away, letting them fall to the deck of the ship after the soggy material tore. 

Both he and Piper stared in wide-eyed shock at his unblemished abdomen for a moment. Piper reached out to ghost her fingers along the spot where the wound had been, her feather-light touch sending a shiver down Jason’s spine. 

“You’re healed,” she whispered, voice filled with awe. “How are you—what happened down there?” she asked, laying her hand flat against his stomach for a moment before looking up at him with those dark, earnest eyes he loved to get lost in. 

“A lot,” he said. “Though I don’t remember much of what happened towards the end.” 

Piper nodded slowly and grabbed his hand, starting to pull him across the deck towards the stairs. 

“Fill me in once we’re downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m getting you to eat something.” 

Jason laughed brightly and allowed his girlfriend to tug him towards the galley, more than happy to let her fuss over him. 

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that hadn’t left him since he came to wrapped in Kymopoleia’s shawl, and the dread weighing heavy at his heart that it had something to do with Percy and what had really happened to Polybotes. 

[painbringer]

I can't get the crp x om crossover outta my head. like. Zalgo's Diavolo's dad om's canon yote out the window.

Dia's no more a demon, but some sort of a demigod.[demon x god hybrid] but the demons don't know- they think The demon king & Diavolo are both.. demons.

and only the brothers & Barb know about this secret-

and the whole sleeping thing mentioned in the story's just Zalgo getting yeeted back to his prison universe and Diavolo & Barb had to hide it somehow someway

help it's been a brainworm lately I have not been able to imagine the obey me verse without the creepypasta in it from the last two or three years

I'm still working on it-

[11queensupreme11]

I have a few stupid questions: whenever percy went to New York with Beelzebub, were people staring at her just because she was beautiful? Like, could they get the feeling that she wasn't human or something like that because of her looks (almost like she is too beautiful to be human)? If it were another demigod that appeared, say Thalia or Nico, Would the people of that world stare at them because they could just Tell that they aren't human?

I'm only asking cuz I just remembered that that world doesn't have the Mist, so the mythological world wouldn't be hidden if they acrually cared enough to go to earth😅

her faceclaim's ✨adriana lima✨ and even tho she doesn't exist in ror verse, she's still HOT AF so you best believe they were awed by her hotness 😫😫

okay on a serious note 😂 they were staring mostly because of beelzebub. like, this dude is HOT AS HELL and he's not even TRYING to blend in with the humans like some of the pjo gods do. he doesn't try to change his clothes to more average, modern day clothes, doesn't put any "human flaws" on his appearance to look more normal, he is 100% authentic self (minus the demon fly appearance thing lol) so he is inhumanely gorgeous and everyone can see it 🤤 BUT he's also the devil so even tho he's hot, ppl can still feel that uneasy, terrifying, unsettling aura around him so they stay away even tho there's also simultaneously compelled to get close

that's when they notice percy. yeah she's hot too, but it's not the same way as the gods whose appearances are so inhumanely "perfect" that ppl are awed, but also a little unsettled because "how tf is it humanely possible to look THIS perfect???". have you guys read the twilight series??? if you recall how the vampires were always given this poetic, very detailed description of their beauty and perfection, it's pretty much the same as the gods 😂😂 not only that, but their mannerisms are also eerily perfect and precise (for most of them anyway).

but they also stared at her because of how obviously rich she appeared to be. she was wearing a really really beautiful dress that seemed impossible to be real AND it was decorated with pearls, which is impossible to get in ror verse (because poseidon's a territorial meanie). she was beautiful + rich, with an insanely gorgeous god-tier (little did they know lol) "husband" 😂

so yeah, percy's hot but not inhumanely perfect like the gods are. the same case with the demigods, their physical appearances vary but the humans aren't gonna look at them and think "omg they're SO beautiful and perfect, there's no way they're human 😳". sure some of them could have unique features that humans don't have (hazel having gold eyes, piper's rainbow eyes, etc.), but nothing about their appearances really scream "yup, i'm not human!"

[seepingwithoil]

repost  &  tag  away !  

                                      BOLD all that applies to your muse.

                                    italicized  -  applicable in some verses

• eyes:   blue | green | brown | hazel | gray | gray-blue | other

• hair:   blond | sandy | brown | black | auburn | ginger | grey / white | multi-color | other

• body type:   skinny | slender | slim | built | curvy | athletic | muscular | chubby | overweight

• skin:   pale | light | fair | freckled | tan | olive | medium | dark | discolored

• gender:   male | female | trans | cis | agender | demigender | genderfluid | other | doesn’t like labels | don’t have any definite headcanon either way

• sexuality:   heterosexual | homosexual | bisexual | pansexual| asexual | demisexual | other  | doesn’t like labels

• romantic orientation:   homoromantic | heteroromantic | biromantic| panromantic| aromantic | demiromantic | unsure | doesn’t like labels

• species:   human | undead | shapeshifter | demon | angel | witch | ghost | incubus / succubus | werewolf | alien | mutant | demigod

• education:   high school | college | university | master’s degree | PhD | other

• i’ve been: in love | hurt | ill | mentally abused | bullied | physically abused | tortured| redacted | brainwashed | shot

• positive traits:  affectionate | adventurous | athletic | brave | careful | charming | confident | creative | cunning | determined | forgiving | generous | honest | humorous | intelligent | loyal | modest | patient | selfless | polite | down-to-earth | diligent | romantic | moral | fun-loving | attractive | charismatic | calm

• negative traits:  aggressive | argumentative | bossy | cynical | envious | shy | fearful | greedy | gullible | jealous | impatient | impulsive | cocky | reckless | insecure | irresponsible | mistrustful | paranoid | possessive | sarcastic | self-conscious | selfish | swears | unstable | clumsy | rebellious | emotional | vengeful | anxious | self-sabotaging | moody | peevish | angry | pessimistic | slacker | thin skinned | overly dramatic 

• living situation:   lives alone | lives with parent(s) / guardian | lives with significant other | lives with a friend | drifter | homeless | lives with children | other

• parents/guardian:   mother | father | adoptive | foster | grandmother | grandfather |

• sibling(s):  sister (s) | brother (s) | none | other

• relationship:   single | crushing | dating | engaged| married | separated | it’s complicated | divorced

• I have a(n):   learning disorder | personality disorder | mental disorder | anxiety disorder | sleep disorder | eating disorder | behavioral disorder | mood disorder | substance-related disorder | PTSD | mental disability | physical disability | undiagnosed disorder

• things i’ve done before:   had alcohol | smoked | stolen | done drugs | self-harmed | starved | had sex | had a threesome| had a one-night stand | gotten into a fist fight | gone to hospital | gone to jail | used a fake ID | played hooky | gone to a rave | killed someone | had someone try to kill them

Tagged by: (No one i stole it from myself~)

Tagging: Anyone that sees this and wants to do the thing. Please do~ ( And @discordantweave For Edda cuz she wasn't a thing last i tagged you in something like this )

[eye-of-yelough]

(doesn't know enough about elden ring to know what to ask… YET!) why is it called the elden ring. tell us your favorite character and why. favorite weapon or build. favorite boss

these are very good questions!!!!! girl i don’t think anyone knows the answer to the first one, the “ring” isn’t even a ring it’s. this thang.

Elden Ring’s characters are very. vague. i enjoy many of them but i can’t say any achieve blorbo status. still. out of the demigods, bosses, i really like Mohg and Morgott, the cursed omen twins… Mohg is the funniest fucking queer representation ever dude. goth blood fetish having demon groomer who spends all his time in his room waiting for his child-bride crossdresser half-brother crush to like him back . hilarious. and RYKARD!!! i forgot for a moment, but he’s definitely the best. heretical blasphemous bisexual (cut content😔) who built a mansion in a volcano and fed himself to a snake. and married an escort!

non-boss characters.. very big fan of white mask Varré. he’s the first npc you’ll meet and he calls you a bitchless nobody fated to die in obscurity to your face. also Millicent! my literally rotten soldier who came from a swamp. the vengeance-seeking Hornsent and Thiollier from the dlc.. won’t spoil more about them than i already have.

anything to do with the frenzied flame is my fave part of elden ring so i’d say that’s my favourite build. the incantations are very. good. and cool and sexy. my pfp is the “madness” status effect symbol lol. fave build is whatever elden ring verse Aeryn has going on. elden ring was his canon worldstate before bg3 and i still occasionally come back to him. he’s such a glass cannon tho oh my god he dies so easy. its hard to pick a fave build they’re all fun you’ll just have to see for yourself. fave weapons. the back hand blade from the dlc fucks supremely hard. eleonora’s poleblade. rykard’s blasphemous blade with the wiggly bits of flesh hanging off it :) you can use scythes in this game btw pspsosospss scythes for vice. or vykrum. a vykrum build on elden ring would go so hard.

genuinely one of my favourite bosses in the game is the very humble and unglamorous draconic tree sentinel who’s only a required boss to stop you getting into the capital city too early. something about it is just really fun to me idk.. also MALENIA!!!! you’ll hear that she’s “way too hard” and “the impossible boss” and it’s not untrue! i’ve only killed her twice? three times maybe? in multiple playthroughs. what i like to do with her is get to the point of her boss fight so i can fast travel back later and then just leave. come back every once in a while, fight her for fun without summons. once you learn her moves it’s just a fun, fast paced duel and she’s great for testing weapons/spells on. since she isn’t a required boss to beat the game i recommend doing this honestly it makes her a lot less frustrating.

Morgott is fun too but he could use more health, he’s a little too easy. and despite not being a big Radahn fanboy like some i will concur his boss fight is Great. i won’t go into dlc guys because this is getting long.

bonus: Maliketh and Mohg suckkkk i hate their fights so much. sorry furries and blood kink havers.

[911buddieweek]

Prompt suggestions: supernatural/fantasy/mythology creatures

Want to write this for the Buddie AU Bingo but don't know what to use? Here are a few examples. There are more than this list!

Keep in mind that the characters don't necessarily have to be this. Maybe they come across such a creature.

Werewolves

Vampires

Selkies

Demigods

Gods

Fae/faeries/seelies

Banshees

Wendigos

Were- other animal than wolves

Kitsune (or similar creatures from different mythologies)

Cyclops

Oni

Ogre

Mermaids

Sirens

Minotaur

Centaur

Fauns

Nephlim

Magic users (witch, wizard, warlock, druids/spark)

Shapeshifter

Demons

Angels

Alien

Zombies

Ghosts

Myths like Santa or the Easter Bunny etc can count to this as well!

Loch ness monster

Phoenix

Unicorn

Dragon

Chimera

Monsters

Giants

Kraken

If you want to combine this with the 'based on show/movie/book au' prompt, here are some with fantast/etc creatures

Teen Wolf (mainly werewolves and other were-creatures, but also has several others, for example banshees, kitsune, druids, ghost riders)

Shadowhunters (mainly has nephlim, warlocks, faerie, vampire, angels, and demons)

Shadow and Bone (has Grisha, not a pre-existing thing as far as I'm aware of)

Percy Jackson/Riordan Verse (has mythology of all kids of cultures and religions)

DC or Marvel (include aliens, gods, and magic users)

Roswell New Mexico, or the OG Roswell (aliens)

Once Upon a Time (has magic users and fairytales)

Lucifer (angels and demons)

iZombie (well, zombies)

[heartscfvalor]

Snippets for Laura Hardy (per verse)

Supernatural 1A:

Laura's maiden name is Campbell. She is a direct descendant of Cain, and is Mary Winchester's third cousin once removed; Laura's family branched out of the hunter lifestyle at least two generations before the timeline of the show, so Mary's family is not aware of Laura's side, while Laura's side kept Mary's side a secret. She knew she had more relatives, but she didn't know who they were or where they were. Laura's own mother had psychic abilities, which she suspected passed onto her boys; Joe is clairvoyant, while Frank is clairsentient. Laura herself has experienced a few "prophetic" dreams, but she's able to shake them off as deja vu. Due to marrying a PI, Laura is highly skilled in weapons, coded messages and even some karate. Being seen as a housewife is an easy role for her, to get people to drop their guards. As such in the timeline of the show, Laura is dead up until season 12, when Amara brings her and Mary Winchester back from the dead, as Amara's fondness for Dean was still strong, and the Hardy brothers showed her more kindness and sympathy. Laura hates Mary with a passion. She survives the added Apocalypses and is able to establish herself as a fellow hunter, though she prefers to be a hub of research for other hunters. She also dabbles in magic thanks to her adopted daughter, Taylor Borelli.

Supernatural 1B:

Laura is actually the first mortal woman to birth a Nephilim, not Kelly Kline. Due to being possessed by the archangel, Gabriel, to save her own life from demons, Gabriel left a piece of his Grace within her body that dripped into her childrens' soul in utero. Laura and her family have been under Gabriel's protection since Frank's conception, resulting in Heaven not sensing it when Frank was born, and then later, Joe. However, that doesn't stop the rest of the supernatural to notice when something is awry. She's a skilled hunter by the time season 1 rolls around, and survives until the end of the show and beyond. Laura has experienced at least four deaths since the first Apocalypse.

H.arry P.otter:

Laura is a Muggleborn witch. She is a descendant from the Original Twelve Aurors of MACUSA; she and Fenton moved to the UK when Fenton was offered a job in Scotland Yard, so their children were accepted into Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny. She joins the Order of the Phoenix when Tom Riddle rises to power again. Thanks to Fenton's skills, they're able to stay hidden from Death Eaters. Laura is also present during the Battle of Hogwarts, fighting to protect the children as well as her own. Laura carries a willow wood want with a threstral tail hair core. Her patronus is a dove, and her boggart is her family, dead. She was proficient in Transfiguration and Potions, as well as Alchemy. She had started a job at the Daily Prophet to help earn more money, but when Riddle's return means her life is at risk, she abruptly resigns, in order to stay under the radar.

Perc.y J.ackson/Demigod:

Laura is a descendant of Khione, the Greek goddess of ice and snow. Due to her being a legacy, she has the ability to see past the Mist. She catches the eye of Hades, the god of the Underworld, and by him, she has at least one child, her eldest, Frank. In some verses, Joe is also Hades' son, but in others, he is the son of Fenton, making Joe the mortal half-brother. Laura is understanding and supportive of demigods, as she wants to do right by her son. She has a safe house on her property for runaway demigods to rest before a satyr can come to collect them for Camp Halfblood. She also keeps a few Celestial Bronze weapons on hand in case monsters come calling.