jjdoeswritings

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

Chapter 2; camp half-blood

Summary: a brother sister relationship, a bet that keeps getting better, and a new boy.

This isn't beta read. I'm so sorry 😭

Keep your guard up! Don't let him spot any openings! Don't hesitate! One wrong move and –

A flash of bronze came at you quickly. Quicker than you'd like to admit. You barely raise your blade in time. The clang of metal on metal reverberates in your ears.

Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all!

Your arms tremble with the force, the blonde-haired boy behind the blade putting all his weight into the attack.

You pivot on your heel as you desperately try to stop yourself from getting slashed by his blade.

He is fast. Almost too fast. But what would you really ever expect from Hermes' prized son? The pride of his children, in fact.

Your breath hitches, muscles tight under the pressure of his body weight pushing against your strength.

He's strong. Perhaps the strongest sword fighter at camp. But he always leaves just a little–

The sword sliced through the air with a ‘crk’ as the blade hit his left side. A quick yet efficient slash left from your blade across his left side.

“I win?” A smirk pulls at your lips.

“You got lucky.” Luke scoffs, but the look he sends your way is filled with something akin to pride. “You're getting better. But still –” a sharp whoosh sounds as a deliberate stinging pain erupts from your side.

“Luke! C'mon,” you couldn't help but yelp as a small trace of blood pours out from the skin-deep wound.

He tilts his head as a small smirk forms on his face. “You've got to learn the fight isn't over until the conch shell blows.”

He's right. The conch hasn't blown yet.

When Luke lunges again, you're ready.

Bronze flashes and you twist your body just in time to dodge his jab. The edge of his blade narrowly grazing your ribs.

Again!

His balde lifts again and out of reflex yours arcs just in time to clash, blade to blade.

“You're holding back!” You growl, irritation bubbling up inside your gut

“I'm teaching” he counters, his sword leaving your blade, relieving the pressure on your wrists.

“Don't be cocky.” You snarl.

You propel yourself forward and try to lay a hit on him. He moves swiftly to the side as the bronze of your blade shimmers in the afternoon sun.

“Missed me.”

You twist your body to lay a hit on him. Anger taking over. Your attempted hits, missing again and again. Each strike willful and wide. He reflects one of the efforts to hit him with an almost embarrassing amount of ease. Only then did you realise, you left yourself open - you noticed too late.

A sharp pain exploded as Luke's blade scored against your upper back, harsh and fast.

You stumble forward with a grunt, catching yourself on your knees as your breath catches up to you. The sting looms under your orange camp shirt, throbbing almost venomously.

“And that's why we stay calm. Anger is not a good drive in a fight. It will get you hurt.” Luke says, not unkindly, as he grabs an ambrosia square from the ugly blue cooler and tosses it your way. “Always keep your head kiddo,” he says, almost teasing. His head tilted as he wiped down his blade.

A quiet gasp leaves your lips as you catch the golden square. Not willing to look any more like a fool than you already did, you consume the square in a matter of seconds.

The conch finally shell bellows throughout the valley signalling the end of your sparring match.

‘Not late at all’ You think bitterly.

“See you at dinner okay?” Luke smiles before vanishing, you assumed he was going to shower as he often did after he bested you swordfighting.

Luke disappeared towards the showers with a lazy wave and you were left rubbing the dulling throb in your shoulder from the pressure of the hefty sword you had sparred against Luke with.

Camp buzzed with late afternoon energy, arrows thudding into their targets, laughter spilling from the lake as the sun started its slow descent.

Dinner came with its usual controlled chaos. The regular BBQ materialising on everyone's plates, platters passed, glasses filled with each person's drink of choice. Stories fell from the Hermes kids' mouths as you sat at their table, still unclaimed.

You were only half listening to the tale Chris was sharing with the rest of the Hermes cabin residents - something about sneaking in forbidden goods, sodas and the like.

Your eyes flickered to the head table where Chiron was talking with Mr D, the god of wine and insanity more popularly known as Dionysus. Chiron was back? You hadn't seen him in ages, now that you'd come to think of it.

Your eyes continue to trace the faces of people sitting at different cabins tables. Maybe out of boredom, or maybe it was your ADHD but it was something you did far too often at dinner.

Then your eyes landed on Clarisse. She was staring right back at you. You could almost feel the weight of her piercing gaze through the chatter around you.

You had known Clarisse since the day you arrived at camp. She had tried to start something with you. You shut her down instantly. After your mother just left you at camp, you weren't exactly in the mood to play nice.

She's never tried to mess with you since that day. A part of you thinks it's because you hang out with Luke a lot. He's like an older brother to you, a mentor even. He was the first to welcome you and share his story when you were placed in the Hermes cabin with the rest of the unclaimed.

Other than your own seemingly borderline obsessive staring the dinner seemed to pass quite quickly. The dining pavilion was loud as ever but your head was elsewhere, no longer even paying that much attention on where your eyes glanced in their endless wandering.

The food was as good as it always was, but you didn't really taste much of it. It was hard when your mind was elsewhere. It happened a lot, you wished it didn't but it was the same for everyone at camp. Luke has told you it came with the package deal. Be a demigod and get ADHD and dyslexia as freebies.

You supposed he was right, Luke was undoubtedly and surprisingly quite wise despite not being a child of Athena. The type of wisdom that can only come from someone who's seen too much.

You felt it, the way your eyes wandered constantly whilst you were doing everyday things. The way your brain jumps between ideas. Noticed things that maybe others wouldn't.

Your perception of the world was different from most others, as was the same with most demigods, but the thing was you couldn't help but be a little thankful for it. Especially in your world, it was what kept you alive. The way you processed things was the one good thing your godly parent ever gave you.

By the time you had burnt your offerings you could have fallen asleep right then and there. The earlier sparring matches’ effects taking hold of your weary body.

Back in the Hermes cabin, everything had settled and you were ready to sleep for a thousand years. Most of the younger campers were already snoring in their bunks. The dim glow of moonlight through the window did little to fight your tiredness.

You lay there, the thin material of the blanket haphazardly draped over your legs, flowing down from your space on the top bunk dramatically. Almost acting as a certain for the camper in the bunk underneath. You didn't care, it was too hot to be curled up in such scratchy material.

You swore they had magic for everything but not for replacing old and used blankets? Almost offensive that they would have you lie underneath such an uncomfortable fabric.

Your back still ached faintly from sparring. You tried to focus your breathing, in and out. Then repeat. Steady.

But there was something about the stillness in the air that night that made you shiver, the type that went right up your spine. Like someone was walking on your grave.

Your skin became goosed. Heartbeat pounding in your own ears. Your fingers stretched at your side like they were reaching out to try to grab onto something, but they would shakily be pulled back by you. Conscious of the unknown dangers that could be lurking.

Whilst every instinct in your body screamed at you to stay awake, You couldn't fight it as you slowly fell into a deep sleep.

The silence was deafening. All you could see was black. The entire room was engulfed by darkness.

The atmosphere is heavy. Almost grief stricken. The weight of the place is pushing down on you. Almost like it was trying to smother you.

The only sound you could hear was the sounds of your own breathing.

The black surrounded you. Your eyes struggle desperately to see through the colour of the darkest night.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

The sound was sounded so far away, but so close… and so familiar.

“little hero, we meet again” a sharp voice echoes through the abyss-like setting.

Oh no. Not her.

Fuck!

Your eyes glance around desperately, looking everywhere, so greatly in need of finding out where her voice was coming from.

No shapes, no light. No way to see where she was appearing from.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

The infernal clicking of her heel keeps echoing so much so it was almost like she was right next to you. You could hear every sound, every small ‘click’, every breathe, and if you could hear her, she could most definitely hear you.

Then -

Suddenly, there was stillness. A silence so loud and unanticipated it filled your stomach with butterflies. Not the good kind.

The ‘I'm surely about to die’ kind.

The silence is so utterly complete that it feels like it's pressing in on your skull.

Then, she speaks…

From right behind you.

“Kitten,” she purrs, her voice was purely mocking “break it.” her sharp utterance sending shivers down your whole body.

“I've been training! I'm ready for you now!” You try, even though you felt utterly at a loss.

A crude cackling echoed. “Cute. Who says I want to harm the little hero?” The end of her sentence trails off, becoming almost a purr

‘You literally threatened to eat me last time we met?!’ You realise, the thought almost funny in comparison to your current situation. You decide not to voice it. Not wanting to piss off this monster.

Then in the dark, you felt it.

A hand on your chin. Lifting your head to meet her gaze.

Her dark ember eyes glowed through the dark. “Break it!” She hisses. A warning.

“Save yourself. Hero- save yourself” her voice drifts, almost as if she's being pulled away from you.

Her voice now as eerie as ever as she screams out as her voice wavers, getting further and further away.

“Break the cycle, ____! Break it!”

SMASH!

The black surrounding you shatters almost like glass.

Then you were awake.

You wake up, hands tightly grasping the scratchy sheets. Heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. Breath uneven. A bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat like a brutal reminder of the dream you'd just had.

“You okay?” Came a familiar and gentle, albeit still concerned voice.

You didn't have an answer for him so you just nodded absentmindedly, shaking yourself into sense as you climbed down from the bunk bed.

Nightmares. Yet another thing demigods were stuck with. Cruel reminders etched into the minds of the children of gods. Forcing them to remember that even your own brains work against you when you are most supposed to be at peace.

“Just a nightmare.” you reply, throat dry from the humid air in the cabin.

“So the usual?” Luke jokes

You grumble as you rub the sleep from your eyes. “Food?”

“Oh is that all I get?” he raises an eyebrow, false irritation bubbling on his typical child of Hermes features.

“Yes.” You reply, too tired to play along.

“I'll beat your ass again.” He threatens, yeah no you didn't want that.

“I'm so sorry my lord. Good morning” you bow mockingly as a huge yawn sounds from you.

“A new boy arrived late last night. Annabeth Is convinced he's the one.” Luke remarks

You grumble before glancing at a nearby clock on a dresser. “It's 11 am? Why didn't you wake me?!”

“aren't you listening, annabeth really thinks he could be. He killed the minotaur.” Luke smiles,

“aren't you too old to care about new people coming to camp?” you raise an eyebrow at his boyish excitement.

“aren't you too young to be so cynical?” he raises an eyebrow, a cocky smile forming like he had just made the greatest comeback since the trojan war.

You scoff “like you're one to talk.”

Silence falls over the pair of you, but it's comfortable. Content even.

“The minotaur?” You question with pursed lips.

“Yes. Even cut off one of its horns.”

“Interesting.” you stretch out the ending to which Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stop making that face.” He frowns in an almost mocking manner.

You snort “what face? You calling me ugly?” you watch as he turns around to leave the cabin with no response and a smile pulling at his lips.

“TRAITOR!” you holler as you throw the clock from your side at his head.

“Missed. Me.” he waves before vanishing into the camp.

“Cheeky bastard.” you whisper under your breath as you finish tying up your sneakers with a little too much force. The old dirtied fabric, no doubt from the sheer poor and used state, creaks in protest.

You pause for a second letting the near silence if the cabin fall over you. The only sounds you could hear were the sounds of the overexcited newcomers outside.

It was already warming up outside. The kind of warmth that was the calm before the heat wave, the sweat and the near heatstroke.

The humidity was picking up too. You just knew you would hear the dryads complaining about it as it got worse and worse as the solstice approached. You'd really think being magical would exclude them from being growing fungus in high humidity.

Apparently not.

You roll your shoulders, trying to rid yourself of the lingering tension In your muscles. You hadn't told Luke about the face. About the woman you'd seen again after two years.

You had so many questions. Why did she appear in a dream? Was your subconscious being cruel to you, trying to remind you of your last day with your mother?

What did she mean by ‘break the cycle?’

She felt the same. Yet so different. Her face has been scarred since you had last seen her. The way she whispered In the dark, clawing at something you couldn't even name. You didn't want to admit it, but it upset you.

It was almost like she was trying to force something out of you, something you were far from ready to admit just yet. It felt like the truth was being pulled from your grasp. Filling your mind with questions you'd never thought to ask.

A familiar blonde, deep in her own thoughts, stands a few feet away from the lake. Muttering to herself as she ruthlessly checks off everything on her clipboard.

You smirked, that semi sinister smirk as you approached the stormy eyed child of wisdom with hands shoved in your pockets and a dream.

“I heard about your new obsession.”

Her head shoots up, looking around confusedly before her gaze meets mine. Her eyes wide, perhaps a little embarrassed.

“He's not- I'm not!” She protests, the clipboard still clutched in her grasp as it falls to her side.

“Say it’s not true,” you say flatly, one hand to your forehead in the most half-hearted dramatic gesture imaginable. “Betrayed by Annabeth Chase. Guess nothing's sacred anymore.” You bite back the smirk trying desperately to stretch across your lips.

You raise an eyebrow as she tries desperately to speak through her embarrassment. The Annabeth Chase fluster. Incredibly rare, but the sight of a lifetime. You've seen it only a few times, but it never gets old.

She sighs “he hasn't been claimed yet, he's being moved into the Hermes cabin later today.”

“Stalker much.” You couldn't help but find it amusing how she coughs out of shock.

“Why are you so course?” Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

“For the fun of it. Obviously.”

She moves a strand of loose Golden blonde hair behind her ear “do you mind watching him when-”

“When you can't stalk him?” you inquire

“I'm not a stalker.” Annabeth mumbles but you catch it.

“Says the stalker.” You whisper intentionally loud enough for her to hear

“Please?” She gazes over out onto the lake.

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t even know what the new boy looks like. Between you and Luke fawning over him like damsels in distress, I really don’t want to get involved.” You sigh.

“____ please. I'll do your chores!” Annabeth hugs her clipboard to her chest as she makes her offer.

“How many?”

“Two months worth-”

“Done!”

On top of that you ended up somehow taking care of him. Annabeth said she needed to catch up on training so she doubled her offer of doing your chores.

4 months free chores off your plate? To simply shove the boy some mashed up pudding whenever he would come around. It wouldn't last long though before he passed out again.

He snored.

Badly.

One time when he had just woken up you caught him staring at you.

“So you're gonna get Annabeth her quest huh?” You scoop some of the mashed up pudding off his chin.

“What?” He struggled to croak out.

“A quest? You don't know what a quest is?” The words came out slightly taken aback. How much did this boy know before arriving?

He shakes his head and mumbles something before the obnoxious snoring starts all over again.

You rolled your eyes. This boy was going to get Annabeth a quest? Was she going absolutely mental?

You weren't there the next time he woke up.

-

You and Annabeth were talking to Chiron. You were getting reprimanded for letting Annabeth take four months of your chores.

Mr D, the camp director was there too. It seemed he cared little for the verbal lashing you were getting off of the centaur.

“With all due respect Chiron, She offered.” You motioned to Annabeth who didn't argue with your statement.

“You are too blasé Miss Williams, but since it was a mutually agreed upon arrangement I suppose I cannot do anything.” Chiron sighed. His thumb and index finger pinched the bridge of his nose.

As Chiron finished his lecture you noticed the black haired boy from the medical room round the corner with an old shoe box clutched in his grasp. Following beside him was a satyr you knew well.

You see, you and Grover had this thing where you would sit somewhere quiet and remote in camp and he would find you and talk your ear off about his day.

He was a good guy. A bit hung up on Pan but, a good guy all the same.

You watched as Grover motions to everyone, introducing them to the sea eyed boy.

“That's Annabeth Chase and this is ____ Williams” Grover motions over to me with a small smile.

“You?” Percy asks, confused. “You fed me pudding? The popcorn flavoured one?” he Says making direct eye contact with me.

“No I didn't.” You reply stone-like.

“But-”

“No.”

Annabeth smiles but there was a hint of nervousness behind her eyes and it threw you off since you were used to seeing her so confident.

“She did.” Annabeth finishes. Looking away from you.

Traitor. Surrounded by traitors.

“8 weeks.” I whisper to Annabeth.

By now the introductions had moved on to Chiron. The boy, Percy, had called him Mr Brunner in a fit of recognition.

So that's where the centaur went. You clicked your tongue in disbelief.

Chiron had a mischievous look in his eye as he offered the black haired boy to play pinochle.

Percy looked around with his gaze Inevitably landing on Mr D.

He throws down his cards with a tired sigh “well I suppose I have to say it, welcome to camp half blood. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you.”

You heard him mutter a small “Uh, thanks.” As he scoots a little further away from the godly camp director. But he kept eyeing him up and down, an air of sadness surrounding him.

“Annabeth, ____?” Chiron calls, the pair of you walked forward at his gesture.

“These young ladies assisted in nursing you back to health. Annabeth my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk. He's in cabin 11 as you well know.” Chiron commands and Annabeth nods

“Sure, Chiron” she nods and moves to leave.

You go to follow her, assuming the centaur and the new boy needed some space.

“_____, remain here.” Chiron’s old wise voice calls out before you could fully follow Annabeth.

“You're in cabin 11. Could you please show Percy around after we are done here?” Chiron raises an eyebrow like he was challenging you to say no.

Chiron was serious when he needed to be. It just so happened that he needed to Be more serious around you then a lot of the other campers. You swear you played a part in him losing his hair.

Now that he is standing you got a proper look at the new boy. He was maybe half an inch taller than you. Black hair. Sea glass green eyes. Long eyelashes that framed said eyes almost too perfectly.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you as you waited for him to say something. Eventually, after a whole 10 seconds, deciding that he wouldn't, you speak with your voice filled with its familiar dry venom.

“You snore when you sleep.”

[jjdoeswritings]

Yall actually really need to fucking stop with the straight up racist bullshit thrown at the castings of the percy jackson tv show 😐

Just saw someone say they hoped they wouldn't make Jason black because it wouldn't make sense...

Keep in mind that we know Zeus is black, and so is Thalia. Like genuinely please be so fucking fr.

As far as I'm aware, it's literally canon that the gods can change their physical appearances since they are literally fucking shapeshifters 😶

[jjdoeswritings]

I really need some long form percy jackson fanfic...

like I don't care who the godly parent is. I JUST NEED A LONG FORM X READER FANFIC 😭

which you would think wouldn't be an issue.. well, have i got news for you! I literally cannot find any multi chapter stories where percy x reader is the main pairing (which I'm not gonna lie it's a huge reason I'm writing one)

But if you have any suggestions please lemme know 🙏🤧

[jjdoeswritings]

Babbles | PJO pt1

Annabeth: What's the worst mistake you made?

You: being born.

Percy: my worst mistake was not inventing time travel so I could go back and kill ____ before we ever met.

______

You: SO FUCKING TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT!

*Kicks hole through door.*

Percy: was that really necessary?

--------

Percy: could you be quiet I'm trying to think?

You: I heard it only hurts the first time so push through the best you can

Percy: ☹️

_______

You: can't live with you-

Percy: can't live without me?

You: I don't know who said that but it's definitely not accurate.

------------

Percy: "I'm pretty-"

You: "No you're not."

Percy: "-tired. Pretty tired."

You:....

Percy:.....

_________

[jjdoeswritings]

Okay, but all the apollo kids being healers is cute, it really is! but what about one who spreads plagues?

I really wanna see more people exploring that aspect of Lord Apollon's mythological lore cause I just think it's really interesting.

"Incensed at the king, he swept a fatal plague through the army." - direct quote from the Iliad.

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

Social media core | not part of main story just thought these were cute.

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

Chapter 1; what am I?

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Eros Reader.

NOT BETA READ.

You know, as far as funerals go this wasn't a bad one. They had air conditioning, the people were avoiding talking to you, and it was a relative you didn't even know.

You honestly had no idea why your mother had dragged you to such a shindig, she was always blabbering on about how you need to ‘socialise more’. How were you supposed to do that here? You had no idea. Hardly worth talking to the corpse, you'd never get a reply.

The venue was a somewhat classy, but not at all upscale funeral home. It would’ve been totally run-of-the-mill if not for the random statues scattered around. Your mother had said it doubled as a museum. What a peculiar combination. But one old thing is as boring as another you supposed.

Looking around, you couldn’t help but wonder, wasn’t calling it a ‘museum’ a bit of a stretch for a place full of neighborhood junk? Who wants to stare at an old, cracked fireman’s helmet and read about how some guy jumped into flames to save a family cat? You certainly didn’t. It felt like a pitiful attempt to make you feel proud of the poor, polluted dive you were unfortunate enough to be born into.

The air inside the funeral home was dry and stuffy, like no moisture was allowed in lest your dead great-uncle start growing mold. The wallpaper was straight out of the 1950s, picked, maybe, by a housewife who’d spend her whole life staring at it. It wasn’t cheerful. Just faded and tired, like it had outlived its purpose but no one had the heart to tear it down. The place itself wasn’t a total disaster, but the little things—like the small tear in the wallpaper in the far corner—never escaped your eagle-eyed attention.

Sighing you decide to go check out some of the so-called artefacts. A seldom visited collection of the most random miserable stuff you'd ever laid your eyes on. Everything, even if it was under protective glass, was clearly aged. Chipped or dust covered.

A part of you wondered how much the museum attendants must have cared to let these objects get in this condition. But a part of you reminded yourself that this was still more a funeral home than a historical centre.

The collection itself was paradoxical, vast and yet strangely empty. The same and yet so different.

One item in particular caught your eye. A jar that used to belong to a grandma in world war 2? Apparently she had used the jar to hold spices and had never hesitated to share the food she made with the hungry neighbours, particularly when rations ran low.

It was the type of story to try and get you to feel for your fellow man. To feel pleased of where you came from or maybe just to react like anyone would expect to a touching story.

Wow. They'll really do anything to try to get you to be even a little proud of this place.

Glancing back, you notice your mother deep in conversation with another woman from the block, passionately debating the “proper” way to cook miniature ‘meat’ pies. Your mom thought they were the greatest thing in the world. You didn’t. Even if someone who actually knew how to cook had taken over the kitchen, you wouldn't buy into that cheap beef and instant pastry propaganda.

Boredom had crept so deep into your bones, you were so bored it ached like hunger.

Who knew silence could starve you?

Settling for something a little less putrid than the aforementioned mini ‘meat’ pies you just toss a few small things onto your paper plate. At least these things were somewhat palatable. The food was clearly thrown together at the last minute. You could tell that nobody had the heart, or the time, to take proper care of this man's last day above ground. Like the man's friends and family had given up before they'd even started. Absolutely no way to go out.

“Not good?” A woman seemingly appearing out of nowhere interrupts awkwardly. Her voice is enough to bring you out of the self pity you had buried yourself In.

The woman's gaze settled on you. The prickle of discomfort that followed was almost instant. The way her eyes had locked onto your face, even from the side you could feel her sharp piercing gaze following every small movement. There was no use in pretending otherwise, she was stunning. Dark red hair fell dramatically as if it was a waterfall of mulberry locks cascading down her back and spilling just slightly over her shoulders. Long black nails, looking freshly polished, curled around her wine glass, her index finger tapping impatiently as if she was waiting for something to happen. The dress she was wearing was certainly a fashion statement. She wore a midi dress that hugged her form tightly, and if the rest of her outfit wasn't already defying the occasion enough. The deep plunge of her neckline left no doubt. Everything about her screamed that she wasn't a guest at this funeral.

You shake your head, a twinge of unease settling in your chest. “No ma'am.”

She laughs, her laugh is full but something about it sets off alarm bells in your head.

“I'm not nearly old enough to be considered a ma'am yet.”

‘You look it.’ You thought as tension started to creep up your spine swiftly.

“What's someone so young and full of life doing here?” There's a weird edge to her voice. You didn't like it at all. It sounded as if she had stumbled, quite happily, onto a field full of sheep after being stranded at sea for 20 years. Like she'd found her next well-rounded meal.

“My mother made me come” You rasp, almost too focused on the different drink options.

“Oh, such a pity,” she laments, her gaze finally shifting from the side of your face. You swear you see her lick her lips as your eyes flicker to take in the strangely sultry-dressed woman who clearly doesn’t belong at a random funeral home on Cygnus Row, New York.

“I'm the funeral director,” she adds out of nowhere. “Your family paid big bucks for this funeral, kid.” She almost sounds impressed. “Not that it matters. We all end up in the same place, after all.”

Was there something wrong with her?

“I suppose-” you start, but the words catch awkwardly in your throat. “I should probably go, my mom is waving at me”

It was a blatant lie. You were positive she was aware. The dark look she shoots you made you think so anyway. A sharp edge to her gaze warned you to not push further.

“Liar. Little girls like you shouldn't lie.” Her tone had dropped what felt like a million octaves. Low and dangerous.

A cold sweat runs down your entire body - then you hear it. The clicking. The sharp deliberate clicking of a high heel against the tile.

Only? You were certain there was only one heel making the sound. Which couldn't possibly be right.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

With every step, a shiver runs down your arms, making the hairs stand on end.

You don't dare glance down, terrified of what you might see.

Your pulse hammers desperately in your ears as the sound draws nearer and nearer.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

Resisting every urge in your body to look down, you keep desperately scanning the black adorned mourners looking for your mother. Where was she?

“No one can save you little hero… child of Love.” The words leave the woman's lips in what sounded like a mix of a sneer and growl.

You freeze as you let the words wash over you. Settling in your very being like a whisper slowly turning into a scream begging to be silenced. Threading itself into your bones. That was the last thing you were.

Click. Thud. Click. Thud.

The sound stops. You can feel her presence - less than a centimetre away from you.

Ignoring what she said was easy, especially when you glanced down and almost let out a blood curdling shriek.

“Go on then” she whispers, your neck hairs standing on end, her voice, slithering up your spine, cold and honey slick “wave back to mommy.”

But you couldn't bring yourself to look away from her feet. Or foot.

Her foot had a slick black glossy heel with an almost too perfect shine, whilst her other leg… had a hoof?!

You suck in a breath. Louder than intended, harsher than needed.

Trying desperately to not look at this- this thing in the eye your gaze darted around the room. Landing on a mirror-esque picture frame.

Her reflection was no longer the woman who had been standing beside you a mere minute ago.

It was ugly, tainted.

Her glowing eyes and teeth, too long - too fang like to be human. Her once flawless skin melting away to reveal her true form like a candle would throughout a long ancient night when electricity didn't yet exist.

Her grins reflected in the glass, her lips stretched far too wide for her smile to be natural. It almost looked as if it was almost tearing her face apart. Her red lip shade became more and more overrun by the blood pouring from the wounds that had reopened on her ugly scarred face.

“What are you?” Your tone is surprisingly steady. The words are remarkably unshaken. You don't know how you managed to remain sounding so aloof.

“It's who am i, girl!” She snaps, irritation burning in her glowing ember like eyes. it seems to anger her, funny she doesn't seem the type to care too much about grammar.

She couldn't be real.

This was just another tantalising thing - like the winged horse you saw back in second grade, or the man with 1 massive eye you spotted sleeping in cardboard boxes in downtown New York after a field trip.

Your heart was pounding in your ears. This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. No it was just a figment of your wildly overactive imagination.

You try to calm yourself down but she reaches out and grabs your arm. “It's too bad I'm not after you little demigod.”

You tried to process what she said. What the fuck is she talking about?!

She slowly backs away. Her every move felt more and more snake-like.

“Do not mistake my mercy for kindness half-blood.” her tone holds a warning. “There will come a day where you will not have the honour of me sparring you. That day… I will eat well.”

Okay so she is mad? But then again… where the fuck did her hoof come from?

“I'll be back soon, puppet. Until then.” you feel the brush of something against your leg.

It was a tail?

It was a fucking tail!?

The tail looked to be almost entirely formed of shadow as it almost seemed to be petting you goodbye, like you were supposed to be a loyal dog. But that feeling, the tail petting your leg, that was real. You felt it. You saw it!

What. The. Fuck.?

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Within the next second she was gone, and you remained frozen, hairs still on end.

Finding your mom through all these people was your top priority now. You needed to get out of here.

Finding her was more difficult than you'd imagined. Your heart was pounding so bad it blurred your vision and brought tears to your eyes. The room was still bustling from the aftermath of the funeral service, only making it harder to make your way through the maze of mourners. Panic had started to take up the root of emotion in your chest, but you eventually found her talking to the widow of the man who had died.

You promised yourself you'd apologise later. Right now you just needed to get out.

“Mom?”

She puts her finger up as she continues her lengthy conversation with the widow which is something she'd always do no matter where you were or who you were with. If there was a chance to talk to someone, she would take it.

“Mom?” it came out more desperate this time but she shushes you

“MOM!” you hadn't wanted to yell, especially at an old man's funeral. But you needed to leave now.

“Young lady I am talking-”

“There was a woman with a tail!”

She goes quiet. Her eyes wandering over the room after my yelling had caused a small scene.

She laughs politely and coughs “if you'll excuse us” Then she practically drags you out of the room and onto the street.

“Get in the car” she says, her tone sharp, almost bitter.

“Mom?” You tried, but even to your ears it sounds small and uncertain.

“We don't have time! Get in the car ___!” Maeve sighs, sliding into the driver's seat before slamming the door shut.

“What's happening to me?”

“You're awakening.”

You tried desperately to ask what she means, but her lips stay sealed. She had that look again — the deep wrinkles stretching around her face, the kind that only appeared when she was really stressed. You should know. You’d been causing her stress since you could walk.

“Get your things from the apartment. Only the most important stuff. Go. I’ll be here. And hurry up!” she barks when you hesitate.

You don’t even know what you were supposed to be packing for. So you grabbed a bit of everything. Essentials, definitely. Sentimentals, probably not. With a stuffed bag slung over your shoulder, you slide back into the passenger seat.

“What’s happening?” you ask again as she puts the car in drive.

She takes off without a word, but stays like that for a few minutes. The car was silent. Your mother looks to be considering what to say to you.

“You're half God, ___.” Maeve grips her steering wheel as if braving for the biggest storm ever known to man. She was right to.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you can't help but roll your eyes but the death glare she sends you is enough to make you send you one back.

“I'm serious. You're a demigod, sometimes known as half-bloods.” Maeve pauses, taking a breath through her teeth.

“Half-blood…?” Your eyes widened inexplicably “that's what that woman called me! The funeral director?”

Your mother shakes her head incessantly

“Not a funeral director… A monster.”

Now you have to laugh.

“Mom, you're being a little crazy.” You just hoped she'd reveal just what a funny joke she had thought it all was.

“Am I?” Her tone is hard again, perhaps harder than you'd ever heard It. It was enough to make you at least listen to what she has to say.

“When I was 19 I fell in love with a man..” She gulps, eyes flickering to you as she tells her tail. “He was a God. You're a half-blood. Half God half mortal.” She seems desperate to have you believe her

“Okay mom, if I am a so-called half-blood who's my father?”

She freezes, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm not allowed to tell you.”

“Well then.” You rolled your eyes, still convinced she was taking the piss.

“I made a deal okay? A deal I regret everyday but I kept it.. And if I break it now, gods help us both!” Maeve grinds her teeth anxiously.

“Wait mom, why would the gods be hanging around New York? And what gods?” she interrupts you

Her voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

“They move with the west. And to answer question 2, Greek.”

You frown, crossing your arms “So I'm half Greek?”

Maeve sighs through her nose, trying her best to keep patient. “Not exactly.. you're half divine energy.”

You shake your head laughing under your breath. “Absolutely none of this is believable to me.”

Maeve slams the brakes a little too hard at the red lights, causing both if you to jolt forwards. Her hands are clenched so tightly on the steering wheel her knuckles have gone ghostly white.

“Oh yeah?” she hisses, turning to face you fully now. “Well I didn't believe it either.. not then at least. Everything you've experienced your entire life, The fidgeting, the ADHD, the dyslexia. It's all because of who you are. You are a half- blood. Your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek, not English. And every single time! Every time you said you saw a pretty flying horse I had to lie to your face! Tell you there was no such thing! I had to send you to a therapist under the special recommendation of your teachers. Do you know how bad it would look if I didn't follow through and look like I wanted to get you ‘help’? When there was nothing wrong with you?”

A beat of silence, a sniffle from the woman driving. “Gods help me, I shouldn't have said that.”

You couldn't help yourself but to fall silent.

All those things you saw? All those doctors telling your mother you had a serious problem?

“None of the things I saw were made up?” You didn't realise it at the time but later on you'd see indentations on your palms from how tightly you were trying to anchor yourself back into your reality in any way you knew how. None of this could be true. Maybe this was still just a very bad dream.

No it couldn't be real.

It was all a prank and your mother was just going to leave you in New Jersey to die. That had to be it.

She wasn’t that cruel to just not tell you, right? She couldn’t be…

You know it wasn’t fair. Not really. But right now, fair didn’t matter. Not to you.

“If you’d told me the truth, maybe I wouldn’t have sounded insane every time I opened my mouth. Maybe I’d have known what to do.” you couldn't help but hiss out the end of your sentence. A whole life of somewhat normalcy? You had the chance to have that.

Maeve scoffs “They would've locked you up and thrown away the key, and I would've had to watch.”

She laughs bitterly, tapping the steering wheel “Look, I know I didn't do everything right and I definitely could've done some things better than I did. But I really have tried my best your whole life for you to be able to live a somewhat normal life.” her voice wavers a little “I always told myself that if you were loved and had food on the table then I was successful. I just needed you to grow up without the pain. You understand me don't you?”

“Yes.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you supposed she did what she had to do. “Where are we going?” The question is considerably gentler now, even to your own ears.

“Camp.” Maeve breathes out a long sigh. “You'll be safe sweetie.” her eyes were sharp but also carrying a flicker of something deeper. Something sorrowful. Filled with trepidation.

“Safe?” You swallowed hard, the emotion thick in the back of your throat. “I don't even know who or what I am. How am I supposed to feel safe?”

Your mom lets out a cold chuckle “you'll figure it out, you have been since you were three.”

You hum absentmindedly, biting your lip “What If I can't this time?”

She shrugs, “Then you'll die.” The words hung heavy. Absolute. Something inside you wanted to ask more but you just couldn't. This was all too much.

The silence that falls, falls thick - stretching out between you and your mother so tightly it felt like it was wrapping around your throat. Heart pounding and head filled with new questions that demanded answers.

The silence that fell over your both was beyond deafening. With only the gentle hum of the engine running in the background your thoughts had begun to run amok.

You clench your jaw, emotion thick In your chest. “What if I - I don't know, what If I die? I can still die right?”

Your mom lets out a huff through her nose. Her eyes soften for a split second but then her voice drops low. “That's why you must fight. No one else will do it for you so don't even expect them to.” Her tone is final but softer than before.

The city blurs past the car window as the two leave the city. The tall skyscrapers, slowly morphing into trees the longer the two of you stayed in the car.

As the thoughts in your head started spiraling out violently you felt a cool wave wash over you. It wasn't pleasant. Almost as if you were sweating ice. The thoughts seemed to whirl faster, almost surrounding you entirely.

They accelerate, trapping you where you stood. The tight feeling in your chest that had been forming now without a doubt noticeable, pressing down so hard that it felt like you wouldn't ever be able to escape.

As you get further and further away from the city your mind gets engulfed deeper and deeper by your own thoughts.

The soft almost rhythmic sound of the indicator fills the cool air of your mother's car. Smooth and steady and almost maddening.

Click click click

The sound was mind numbingly incessant - the only thing keeping time as your world spun out.

You just didn't understand.

This was so confusing. The type of confusion that breeds frustration all too quickly. The type of confusion that's born of you wanting so badly to understand something so desperately that the effort only twists things further out of your reach.

Your fingers tingle as they start to fiddle with whatever they could find. In this case the fluffy lining of your mother's budget customisation of her leased car. Breath caught in your throat as raindrops hit the windshield. Your chest felt so tight. Your ribs felt like they were about to collapse around your heart.

You dug your nails into your palm, not too hard, just enough to feel something. Just to ground you. The world outside presses in, the leather of the seat against your back, the faint smell of your mom's perfume, the ceaseless clicking. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Then let it go.

Then again.

Then nothing.

All those thoughts that had previously tormented your mind had vanished in a span of a few careful breaths.

Your thoughts no longer screamed at you. Instead, they recoiled, shrinking away - distant and unreachable.

Your mother coughs, trying to catch your attention “We're here.”

You look out past the car window, it was just a hill? What?

“Get your things, we don't have all day.” Your mother sighs before getting out and grabbing your bag from the back seat of the car.

You mumble a small thanks as you accept your bag. “There's nothing here?”

“You'll figure it out.” Your mother responds half heartedly as she climbs back into the car.

You watched as she gears up to leave. You yap gently on the window, suddenly desperate for an answer to a question you'd been wanting to ask for a while.

“Did I ruin your life mom?” you question. Tightening the strap of your backpack. You couldn't bear to look in her eyes.

She sighs, almost contentedly “Good luck sweetie.” before revving off back the way they had come.

You listened as your mother's car faded out of sight. The hum of the engine is no longer in earshot.

Looking up at the hill you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

[jjdoeswritings]

You will not use AI to get ideas for your story. You will lie on the floor and have wretched visions like god intended

[jjdoeswritings]

Camp emrys ｡𖦹°‧

Welsh Camp half-blood, anyone?

Like, bro, you can not tell me that Cymru isn't the hub of magic.

It is the birth place of arthirian legend, no matter how much people want to anglicise it .

Not to mention the Welsh belief that the walls between this world and the otherworld are paper thin.

I just think it would be a very fun concept to explore.

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

Prologue

Summary - Maeve Williams' conversion with Eros leaves her with sinking doubts about her daughters future.

12 years ago

A woman stands on an old stairwell outside a run-down looking apartment in New York city. Her arms shake as if her body itself rejected the act of handing over her baby. She gently hands over the newborn that she had been holding to her chest so lovingly a moment beforehand, albeit with scepticism. Her eyes locked on her bundle of joy as she fusses in the hold of someone other than her mother.

The man stares at the tiny human in his arms, a look of complete and utter guilt painted over his heavenly features. Maeve, the baby's mother wondered how such a thing was possible after the birth of their baby, but she had to remind herself she wasnt that idiotic.

The guilt ate at her too, but she forced herself to focus on the good things in her life including her newly born daughter.

A quiet question weighed on Maeve's mind as she watched the man, her daughter's father, look the baby up and down over and over again, almost as if he was trying to make sense of her existence. The sounds of the busy city had long since been drowned out by the sight in front of her and the rushing thoughts coursing through her conscience like a river after a terrible storm.

“Will she be okay?” Maeve asked but received no answer.

“There is no doubt that she will be scarred, but she will live.” the man held little to no affection in his tone “there will come a day when she will wish to know who i am, perhaps even find me. As long as she lives with you , you must not allow it to happen. She will be claimed when the time is right, but only I am to decide when we are to meet again”

“She's your daughter.” Maeve pushes down any annoyance, not willing to show her anger at the Greek standing on the old stairwell with their infant. However Maeve did not expect the small but sure amount of emotion in his eyes as Maeve protested his plan of practical lifelong abandonment for his own child.

“Which i how i know she will never forgive me, but if you raise her, you may have a chance”

“It had to be done” Maeve whispered desperately as despair crawled into the forefront of her mind from where it had been looming in her subconscious. “It had to be done Eros, you said that!” fear gripped Maeve as doubts flickered to life like a flame growing bigger and bigger until it became a fire, rapidly burning away her own comfort.

Then the man, Eros, threw the gasoline. “I did say that. I meant it.”

The god of love gifts the baby suitably in his arms, he runs a finger down from the crown of her head to her heart. “Stay loving, little one.”

Maeve turned and shielded her and her daughter as she learned to do so long ago.

The tiredness of the last few days caught up to her swiftly as she retreated back inside her small but homey apartment.

She could only hope that eros was right and that if she raised her daughter with love, that she would forgive her for what they - for what she had done.

Exhausted, she closes her eyes for just a moment. The brief but pleasant peace relaxing her weary bones.

Tucking her baby into her bassinet, Maeve sat in her own thoughts, In the silence given to her, almost like a gift of sorts. But not quite.

Not with the thoughts whirling around as if their consent presence was going to change the past. What she had done. No, that couldn't be changed.

All she could do was love her daughter and hope that would be enough.

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings

(Name) Williams

"Love isn't given. It's earned."

"... that doesn't sound right-"

"Are you the daughter of eros?"

"No ma'am."

[jjdoeswritings]

Clipped Wings m.list

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Eros Reader.

~ Raised by a mortal mother in cramped old New York, ____ had always felt a pull towards Greek mythology, perhaps from her mother drilling it into her head since she was a babe. Nevertheless, she had never expected to become a part of that world.

When a summer day turns deadly, she is forced into a world where the myths she had been infatuated with since she could understand how to speak are a reality. A dangerous one.

One day, she meets him, a boy with sea green eyes and a dangerous destiny, as the gods whisper and war brews their fates interwine in ways no one could have imagined.

And when her clipped wings grow back.... the gods will remember exactly why they cut them in the first place.

Readers moodboard|social medias

Prologue.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[jjdoeswritings]

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

[jjdoeswritings]

Apollo: "Ah, Hermes. I wasn't expecting you here."

Hermes: "I could say the same to you. Where is--?"

Reader: "Ah, there you both are. Thank you for arriving at such short notice. I require your assistance in a...delicate matter."

Hermes: "So you asked Apollo?"

Apollo: *elbowing Hermes* "Always happy to assist, my dear. What do you need exactly? I thought you'd be distracted with Hera trying to marry you off."

Reader: "It's about that, actually. I would like to have sex with you both."

Hermes: "...."

Apollo: "...."

Hermes: "...pardon?"

Reader: "Hera is pressing me to marry Ares. I don't particularly want to, and if she catches me in bed with the two of you, she won't either. Everybody wins, yes?"

Apollo: "....her logic is flawless, Hermes--"

Hermes: "Apollo!"

Apollo: "I mean... *clears throat* "My dear, as...enticing an offer as that is, I don't think--"

Reader: *starts walking towards the bedroom*

Apollo: "...Hermes, talk me out of this."

Hermes: "It will infuriate Ares and Hera."

Apollo: *striding after Reader, tugging Hermes along* "Damn it, I said talk me out of it!"

[jjdoeswritings]

She's just like me! ｡𖦹°‧

Damian Wayne x reader

Damian realises just how similar he and his daughter are.

"Why does your mother insist on taking so long when shopping?" The green eyed Wayne grumbles

A little hum follows "she just likes torturing you" Rania giggles as she rolls her hot wheels car over the edge of the worn down picnic table in the middle of the shopping centre.

Damian raises an eyebrow "You're six, how do you know what the word torture means?"

"Grandma Talia told me." Rania purses her lips as she leans to get her limited addition batman car.

Damian's eyebrows furrow "I knew it was a mistake to let you two meet"

"She's funny." The little girl concludes before asking "Daddy what does climate disaster mean?" Rania asks curiously

"Such a big mistake." Damian shakes his head.

The people passing by all seemed to be going about their days happily enough. People carrying shopping bags, even going out for dinner and Dmaian and Rania had been stuck there for two hours.

"Where is she?" Damian mutters under his breath

"I don know" Rania giggles as she makes her hot wheels cars crash into eachother and the floor as she commentates the whole thing. "But uncle Dickies birthday party is gonna be great!" Rania exclaims

"Are you excited to see your cousins?" Damian notices a stray strand of hair and gently moves it back into place.

"Not really baba. Why are there so many? Makes my ears hurt" Rania pouts. Damian pauses noticing the little frown on her little face.

"Tell you what habibi, whenever you feel your ears hurting just come find me and I'll take you out for a little bit okay?" Damian would deny it but he's never softer than with his daughter.

Rania considers this for a moment before nodding shyly "Okay baba"

Rania has always struggled in crowds or groups of large people. She's too shy and spends most of the functions with her head buried in her fathers side. Occasionally peaking out when someone approaches them but too deathly shy to make any conversation.

"You never answered my question baba, why do I have so many cousins?" Rania considers "uncle dickie has 4 kids."

Damian pauses for a moment to consider the little ones rather intense question. He certainly couldn't tell her just 'how' she had so many cousins. Certainly not, his wife would behead him and have his remains placed on the manor wall if he even dared.

"A big family means more love, no?" Damian croons.

Rania looks at him with her big eyes "all I really need is you and mama." She confesses. "I don't like my cousins very much baba, too much loud"

Perhaps Damian shouldn't have been as amused as he was. But he found it quite endearing how someone so small was just like him, well almost. She was better. She didn't gold any hatred at the world like Damian did at her age. She was just his baby and that's all she ever needed to be.

"Very much loud." Damian nods with a gentle smile tugging at his usual frowny lips.

Rania drops back onto Damian's side, letting out an exhausted sigh "I miss mama. Clothes are stupid. Parties are stupid. I wanna go home." Rania drawls as she lets out a sleepy yawn.

Damian grumbles but does nothing to stop the little girl from using his side as a pillow. She was asleep in minutes.

"Oh? What did i miss here?"(Name) murmured adoringly as her gaze followed how her daughter snuggled up tighter as a slight breeze came by.

""She's just like me" Damian confided. Eyes locking onto his wife, who let's out an almost crude giggle.

"Now you notice? And not when she was rearranging and throwing out her stickers because some didnt have animals on them?" Her eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips that just screamed 'I told you so'

"I love you."

[jjdoeswritings]

Beach day! ｡𖦹°‧

"You've got a 10 month old daughter right here who's behaving better than you" (name) muses, adjusting the young baby's hat so that it doesn't keep falling down in front of her emerald green eyes.

The baby let's out a loud sound of amusement, almost like a cackle as the water from the pool splashes on her batman themed swimming costume.

"Our child is clearly overheating." Damian's argues. Eyes locking into how his daughter would giggle everytime the hat would fall down in front of her tiny face.

"She's having fun,"

"Tt."

The baby shrieks in such delight when the nearby pools wave machine turns on that she doesn't notice the warning look her mother sends her baba.

Not that she would anyway, if she wasn't so amused by the pool she'd probably be asleep on her mothers chest.

"You didn't need to intimidate the barman."

"Didn't i?"

"Damian he did not insult my honour"

"Tt."

Rolling her eyes she watched as her baby claps at one of the older children in the pool falling off their pool floaty.

"Well... she's clearly yours." (Name) sighs

"People who are idiotic enough enough fall deserve to be laughed at." Damian chides

"Damian he's like six!"

"And?"

[jjdoeswritings]

how i feel after saying i would date someone named damian wayne😻