tealvneu

[tealvneu]

Hii I just want to say I LOVE your fics and I adore how you write the characters. your fic ‘stranded’? the way you wrote the gods and jason and everything is so satisfying to read oh my and ‘genesis in daylight’ DUDE seriously one of my favorite pjo fics ever! and your omegaverse fic ‘to keep a bird you must first clip its wings’ UGHH LOVE!!! I literally love your take on dynamics and how they come into play in the pjo universe. literally never stop writing your one of if not my favorite pjo writer EVER😋💕💕💕

Thank you SO much that's so sweet of you to say!!🥹♥️♥️ Each of those three fics are pretty different in terms of plot/atmosphere, so I'm so happy that you read all three and liked them all!! ♥️♥️♥️

[tealvneu]

What was Odysseus thinking when Jason protected him?

Mostly confusion, tbh. Odysseus is a smart guy, but this series of events is a bit much to immediately process, even for him.

His thought process went mostly like this:

Who's that weird guy lying on the deck -> he looks suspicious so I'll make sure he can't pose a threat to us first -> what's he yelling about? -> oh gods oh gods it's Zeus we're dead -> oh FUCK that boy is Zeus' SON we're SO DEAD

And he's still kinda stuck in that last stage when Jason saves him last minute from being flambéd lol. Honestly, in the end he's just glad to be alive and not shipwrecked, and I don't think I can blame him!

[tealvneu]

#balance

[tealvneu]

Stranded future snippet, set after Jason is whisked away to Olympus:

They're in Jason's room on Olympus, the one Zeus had immediately given him upon their arrival. Jason is leaning against the headboard of the huge bed, bracketed by Hermes and Apollo.

"...This is old," Apollo says, tracing Jason's legion tattoo with his fingers. His touch is feather-light; Jason wonders if he's worried that he'll hurt him if he presses too hard — then promptly decides that he must have gotten a concussion, if he's having such ridiculous thoughts. "When did you receive this...mark?"

Even the way his mouth curls around the word is disdainful, his eyes blistering with heat. But he avoids calling it a brand, which Jason is both appreciative of and surprised by; he'd reacted...not so great when Apollo had initially insisted on the term.

Because technically, technically...Apollo wasn't wrong. Everyone at Camp Jupiter just called it a tattoo — but it was just a tattoo in the same way that Argentum and Aurum were just dogs, or in the same way that Festus was just a dragon.

Senatus Populusque Romanus. The Senate and People of Rome. Six words that encapsulate more than Jason could ever express, burnt into both mind and body.

But there was just something so...ugly about the word 'brand'. Something that just made it sound so cruel; like it was some sort of punishment, or a form of torture. And it wasn't — Jason knows it wasn't. He has his own opinions about Camp Jupiter, but it was (is?) still his home. Aside from Lupa and the Wolf House, it's all he knows — or at least used to know. That has to count for something.

Right?

"Oh, well..." He shrugs and smiles, trying to channel Leo in his expression (or Percy, in fact; both of them have the unique talent of brushing anything off with a grin and well-timed quip). "We all get it young. It's just part of our tradition, you know?"

Unfortunately, that doesn't quite seem to cut it.

Apollo's expression shutters. The corners of Hermes' smile twitches.

"...'Young,'" the Messenger God repeats slowly. His tone is light, almost conversational. "How young, exactly?"

Jason is suddenly aware of the fact that he might have just made a mistake.

After all, no matter which way he puts it, "I got my permanent military tattoo before I hit double digits" isn't the kind of fun fact people like to hear. Least of all these gods, who already seem far more volatile than their modern counterparts.

Apollo pulls Jason closer, thumbing gently at the lines indicating Jason's years of service. He says nothing — he's a lot more serious than Jason is used to, more austere and cold than the Apollo he remembers. It throws him off his guard enough that he doesn't immediately protest the increased proximity. But Apollo's touch is warm, like a hot water bottle balanced at that perfect temperature between hot and blister-inducing (so Jason likes his water hot; sue him).

"Twelve lines," he muses, tone deceptively neutral. "The topmost line is the oldest one, and the bottom-most line the most recent. I would surmise that each consecutive line is newer than the previous, with one new line added after a consistent period of time."

Jason's heart sinks.

Hermes' grip on his other wrist tightens, bordering on painful. His smile has disappeared entirely.

"Each line," he says, enunciating his words with such casualness that it could only be deliberate, "was added after the other? Consecutively?"

The temperature in the room rises sharply.

"Hey," Jason tries. His voice comes out feebler than he'd like. "It's not as bad as it looks —"

Apollo's pupilless eyes are a solid, wrathful gold; a solar flare frozen on the cusp of explosion.

"Twelve years," he says. It's not a question. His words fall to the ground, cracking to pieces at Jason's feet. "One line for each year."

Jason very deliberately doesn't freeze. He's too well-trained for that, has gone through too many training simulations and drills to make a rookie mistake like revealing a tell.

But his silence betrays him.

Hermes' pupils narrow into deadly slits. His blue eyes are frigid — something colder. Sharper. Like jagged glaciers of black ice, or the frozen surface of a lake moments before it shatters.

"Twelve years," he hisses, lips twisted in a rictus of a snarl. "TWELVE?"

The air thickens with divinity to a terrifying degree, weighing heavily on Jason's shoulders. Distantly, he's grateful that no mortals (no full mortals, anyway) are in the room — if they had, they'd instantly be crushed to death by the sheer potency of Apollo and Hermes' power.

Hermes bares his fangs. "I will find them. No mortal alive can escape my gaze — I will have my hawks tear into their flesh and skin them alive."

The air feels almost too hot to breathe, each breath sucking molten heat into Jason's lungs. He tries in vain to tug his hand away from Hermes.

"And I will burn them," Apollo's teeth are the dull glint of white bone. Jason looks at him and thinks of scorched earth, of the smell of disease and decay and festering rot. "I will sow the seeds of disease into their bodies and watch as they rot from the inside out; I will make the sun burn away at their skins until they're naught but flesh and bone."

It hurts to look into Apollo's eyes, black dots appearing in Jason's vision like he's tried to look directly at a solar eclipse without any protection.

He can't help it; instinctively, he flinches.

Instantly, the temperature in the room reverts back to a manageable level. Hermes' pupils shift back into something resembling a human's; Apollo's eyes fade back into a less blinding shade of gold. They look more...normal — as much as any god could look normal — now, instead of condensed forms of divine wrath.

A hand runs through Jason's hair, stroking it gently.

"Did we frighten you, precious one?" Apollo murmurs soothingly. "I apologise. We are not angry at you."

"We pushed him too hard," Hermes says, and Jason swears he almost sounds contrite. "He should be resting."

He turns to Jason, smiling. "Forgive us, fledgling. We were simply a little...surprised. Now, where did you say you hailed from?"

Jason knows he's trying to fish for information about Camp Jupiter. He'd rather die than tell these gods any more information about his childhood, but he can't lie — Hermes would detect it immediately.

So he does the next best thing.

"...I'd like to rest a bit, please," he says. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth. "I'm feeling a little tired."

A moment passes. Hermes' eyes bore into his face; it takes a monumental effort to not look away.

Then, Hermes' expression softens.

He pulls the bedcovers further up, tucking Jason in.

"Of course, Jason," he says gently. "Sleep well."

But his eyes tell a different story. Jason knows — to Hermes, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Apollo smiles.

"We will see you in the morning," he says. Jason knows he means it to be comforting.

But all he can feel is trepidation.

I've got to get out of here, he thinks. And soon.

[tealvneu]

Do you have any updates on Genesis in Daylight or when you might post the next chapter 👀👀👀

Heyy updates for Genesis are sporadic so I'm not exactly sure!🥲 Real life has been super busy for me so writing has been slow — but I promise the next chapter is in the works haha

[tealvneu]

Orrrr sugar baby luke with multiple sugar daddies cause he that pretty and he deserves to be spoiled and pampered with all the nice things

You know what anon I think you're onto something here...😌😌👌

[tealvneu]

if you think about it, sugar baby luke IS canon 🤔 kronos got him a whole cruise and army!

Oh god it's true😂 sugar baby/daddy relationship but it's the worst kind of toxic — daddy manipulates/torments baby and reaps all the benefits, and baby gets some renumeration (cruise ship, army) but still ends up paying for it in the long run

[tealvneu]

Sugary baby luke and sugar daddy apollo 👀👀 ft protective Hermes

Anon you know me so well😌😌 or maybe even someone with stronger DILF vibes...

[tealvneu]

Ugh I've got a million wips but I really really want to write a sug*r baby Luke au😩😩

[tealvneu]

Stranded future snippet, set after Jason is whisked away to Olympus:

They're in Jason's room on Olympus, the one Zeus had immediately given him upon their arrival. Jason is leaning against the headboard of the huge bed, bracketed by Hermes and Apollo.

"...This is old," Apollo says, tracing Jason's legion tattoo with his fingers. His touch is feather-light; Jason wonders if he's worried that he'll hurt him if he presses too hard — then promptly decides that he must have gotten a concussion, if he's having such ridiculous thoughts. "When did you receive this...mark?"

Even the way his mouth curls around the word is disdainful, his eyes blistering with heat. But he avoids calling it a brand, which Jason is both appreciative of and surprised by; he'd reacted...not so great when Apollo had initially insisted on the term.

Because technically, technically...Apollo wasn't wrong. Everyone at Camp Jupiter just called it a tattoo — but it was just a tattoo in the same way that Argentum and Aurum were just dogs, or in the same way that Festus was just a dragon.

Senatus Populusque Romanus. The Senate and People of Rome. Six words that encapsulate more than Jason could ever express, burnt into both mind and body.

But there was just something so...ugly about the word 'brand'. Something that just made it sound so cruel; like it was some sort of punishment, or a form of torture. And it wasn't — Jason knows it wasn't. He has his own opinions about Camp Jupiter, but it was (is?) still his home. Aside from Lupa and the Wolf House, it's all he knows — or at least used to know. That has to count for something.

Right?

"Oh, well..." He shrugs and smiles, trying to channel Leo in his expression (or Percy, in fact; both of them have the unique talent of brushing anything off with a grin and well-timed quip). "We all get it young. It's just part of our tradition, you know?"

Unfortunately, that doesn't quite seem to cut it.

Apollo's expression shutters. The corners of Hermes' smile twitches.

"...'Young,'" the Messenger God repeats slowly. His tone is light, almost conversational. "How young, exactly?"

Jason is suddenly aware of the fact that he might have just made a mistake.

After all, no matter which way he puts it, "I got my permanent military tattoo before I hit double digits" isn't the kind of fun fact people like to hear. Least of all these gods, who already seem far more volatile than their modern counterparts.

Apollo pulls Jason closer, thumbing gently at the lines indicating Jason's years of service. He says nothing — he's a lot more serious than Jason is used to, more austere and cold than the Apollo he remembers. It throws him off his guard enough that he doesn't immediately protest the increased proximity. But Apollo's touch is warm, like a hot water bottle balanced at that perfect temperature between hot and blister-inducing (so Jason likes his water hot; sue him).

"Twelve lines," he muses, tone deceptively neutral. "The topmost line is the oldest one, and the bottom-most line the most recent. I would surmise that each consecutive line is newer than the previous, with one new line added after a consistent period of time."

Jason's heart sinks.

Hermes' grip on his other wrist tightens, bordering on painful. His smile has disappeared entirely.

"Each line," he says, enunciating his words with such casualness that it could only be deliberate, "was added after the other? Consecutively?"

The temperature in the room rises sharply.

"Hey," Jason tries. His voice comes out feebler than he'd like. "It's not as bad as it looks —"

Apollo's pupilless eyes are a solid, wrathful gold; a solar flare frozen on the cusp of explosion.

"Twelve years," he says. It's not a question. His words fall to the ground, cracking to pieces at Jason's feet. "One line for each year."

Jason very deliberately doesn't freeze. He's too well-trained for that, has gone through too many training simulations and drills to make a rookie mistake like revealing a tell.

But his silence betrays him.

Hermes' pupils narrow into deadly slits. His blue eyes are frigid — something colder. Sharper. Like jagged glaciers of black ice, or the frozen surface of a lake moments before it shatters.

"Twelve years," he hisses, lips twisted in a rictus of a snarl. "TWELVE?"

The air thickens with divinity to a terrifying degree, weighing heavily on Jason's shoulders. Distantly, he's grateful that no mortals (no full mortals, anyway) are in the room — if they had, they'd instantly be crushed to death by the sheer potency of Apollo and Hermes' power.

Hermes bares his fangs. "I will find them. No mortal alive can escape my gaze — I will have my hawks tear into their flesh and skin them alive."

The air feels almost too hot to breathe, each breath sucking molten heat into Jason's lungs. He tries in vain to tug his hand away from Hermes.

"And I will burn them," Apollo's teeth are the dull glint of white bone. Jason looks at him and thinks of scorched earth, of the smell of disease and decay and festering rot. "I will sow the seeds of disease into their bodies and watch as they rot from the inside out; I will make the sun burn away at their skins until they're naught but flesh and bone."

It hurts to look into Apollo's eyes, black dots appearing in Jason's vision like he's tried to look directly at a solar eclipse without any protection.

He can't help it; instinctively, he flinches.

Instantly, the temperature in the room reverts back to a manageable level. Hermes' pupils shift back into something resembling a human's; Apollo's eyes fade back into a less blinding shade of gold. They look more...normal — as much as any god could look normal — now, instead of condensed forms of divine wrath.

A hand runs through Jason's hair, stroking it gently.

"Did we frighten you, precious one?" Apollo murmurs soothingly. "I apologise. We are not angry at you."

"We pushed him too hard," Hermes says, and Jason swears he almost sounds contrite. "He should be resting."

He turns to Jason, smiling. "Forgive us, fledgling. We were simply a little...surprised. Now, where did you say you hailed from?"

Jason knows he's trying to fish for information about Camp Jupiter. He'd rather die than tell these gods any more information about his childhood, but he can't lie — Hermes would detect it immediately.

So he does the next best thing.

"...I'd like to rest a bit, please," he says. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth. "I'm feeling a little tired."

A moment passes. Hermes' eyes bore into his face; it takes a monumental effort to not look away.

Then, Hermes' expression softens.

He pulls the bedcovers further up, tucking Jason in.

"Of course, Jason," he says gently. "Sleep well."

But his eyes tell a different story. Jason knows — to Hermes, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Apollo smiles.

"We will see you in the morning," he says. Jason knows he means it to be comforting.

But all he can feel is trepidation.

I've got to get out of here, he thinks. And soon.

[tealvneu]

Whoa I love this!🤩🤩 Really liking the colours, and this is such a cute scene! Thank you for drawing this♥️♥️

I recently read @tealvneu 's fic Stranded which is so so good and I cannot recommend enough. This is from that scene at the end of the second chapter when Zeus finally gets to hold Jason (even if he did use somewhat... duplicitous methods, although that's far from the worse thing Hermes' has used his caduceus for)

[tealvneu]

Hello! Are you okay with people making fanart or fics inspired by your own?

(I love your fics btw they're awesome! You're a great writer)

Yes I'm absolutely ok with it!! Please send me the link after so I can devour it like a rabid pigeon😆

Tysm<3

[tealvneu]

I love you omegaverse au it’s so hard to find a/b/o au that uses family dynamics and i love yours so much

thank you!<3

[tealvneu]

bless u for writing Stranded into existence. 🙏We need more Possessive Olympians and their rare babies~

thank you!<33

[tealvneu]

I love omega luke, i love hermes who desperately wants to be overbearing to luke even before he knew he was an omega them being given the ability to do so and immediately loses

oh frrrr. like i can see hermes already being overbearing even before luke's presentation, but after he knows that luke's presented as an omega? that overprotectiveness switch is going to be cranked up to the max.

[tealvneu]

I love that when the gods are written to actually care about their kids they hate that they’re heroes they’re so mad like its not usually their fault it makes me cackle

same lol it's like karma whipping them in the face😌

[tealvneu]

In you stranded fic how would zeus reaction if Jason tried to run away because I don’t see jason passively just staying on olympus

have you ever seen a small kitten try to leave its little cot/bed but just ends up tripping over its own feet? that's what zeus feels every time jason tries to escape lol.