#by the grace lettered

[appleslightning]

by the grace by lettered

when I drew this I had no idea that this scene in the fic was inspired by this art by alekina! so this ended up being a fanart of a fanfic of a fanart. telephone game much?

[balletfilmss]

BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM!

✸ pairing: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader

✸ synopsis: no, you’re not coming to your senses. even if it’s your father who’s telling you to

✸ warnings: none!

✸ notes: writing’s so weird…like it took me weeks to do my last work & i cranked this out in TWENTY minutes

idea from this post by @percabething!!

“what?”

“you heard me, yn,” said your father firmly, ready for you to take your leave and quit bothering.

as if you were the issue here. you’d been minding your own damn business when he just appeared at the lakefront, disturbing your date planning.

your boyfriend would be here any minute, and here poseidon was suddenly deciding to parent. and not only to parent, but to have the audacity to try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date, trying to slam the door on your whole world.

“this doesn’t make any sense!” you protested. “jason and i have been together for months, why is it now a problem?”

“i was hoping that your little summer fling would die out, but it seems that you’re persistent with this one,” your father said.

this one? as if you’d dated more than one other boy before him.

“now, like i said, it’s time for you to stop entertaining this relationship with zeus’s boy. i know you don’t think so, but i’m looking out for you. think about what this could do to your name! end it already, yn.”

at that, he began to walk back towards the water, trampling over your beautiful picnic spread and narrowly missing crushing your basket.

you ran after him, the sides of your unbuttoned cardigan blowing in the summer breeze as you followed him into the water, willing your dress to stay dry as you cried out, “my name? i don’t care about what it could do! jason’s the one i want, dad, you can’t do this!”

poseidon stopped in his tracks, turning to you. “i am the god of the seas and your father, yn, i can do whatever it is that i please. so do enlighten me, why, may i ask, do you think i can’t do this?”

before you could even think to stop yourself, you shouted the words at him,

“because, dad, i love him!”

at the confession, something in your father’s stormy blue eyes seemed to clear up. his face softened as he looked at you for a moment, wondering how the little girl he remembered had gotten so old in such little time.

you began to grow antsy at the silence that followed your words, suddenly aware of the swishing of the lake against your calves as time seemed to still.

finally, poseidon sighed, “very well then.”

you perked up immediately, eyes bright as you squealed, “really?!”

the god nodded his head, though hesitantly and said, “yes. make sure he doesn’t make me regret it. and make sure he knows that.”

your father pointed over your shoulder, his tone suddenly shifted from how it’d been just about three minutes ago. you turned to find jason standing on the bank of the lake with colored cheeks and his hands behind his back, waiting for you to return and not wanting to interrupt your discussion with your father.

from the look on his face, he had definitely heard you.

blood rushed to your face as you realized that your first “i love you” for your boyfriend had been screamed at your father, of all people. when you turned back to your dad, he was gone with the waves.

tilting your head back as you dramatically rolled your eyes at the theatrics, you tentatively spun back round to look at jason, a sheepish smile on your face.

without missing a beat, he joined you in the water, splashing up to his ankles and sending water flying everywhere as he giddily made his way to you.

immediately upon arrival, he placed both hands on your face and pulled you in, catching your lips in a hasty kiss he’d been waiting to give you ever since he accidentally overheard your conversation.

you pressed your lips against his as your head swam as much as the creatures in the water below, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your body flush against his.

when you only separated because of lack of oxygen, neither of you strayed far.

“you heard me?” you asked with a breathe, forehead pressed against jason’s.

he was wearing what might’ve been the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“i did,” he said, pushing a tendril of hair behind your ear. “and i love you too.”

smiling hard, you pushed your lips against his once more.

[bloodwrittenletters]

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!

pairing . . . jason grace x fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . so american! olivia rodrigo

the letter reads . . . some headcanons about you and your cute boyfriend: jason grace!

warnings . . . none!

a/n . . . i literally can't write anything to save my life these few days, so jason grace headcanons! this beautiful blonde boy deserves more love.

✴ he's the type of guy who would ask "can i be your boyfriend?"

✴ even before you started dating, he would go OUT OF HIS WAY (and everyone else's) to give you what you wanted.

✴ learns an specific type of hair routine to help you.

⤷ would ask piper, hazel, or annabeth for hair care products or how to take care of your hair type.

✴ the moment you guys start dating, all of his closet is yours.

⤷ you eventually start to feel bad and tell him he can also wear your clothes if he wants, a week later you find him wearing your pink top.

⤷ "i got stuck, but i look way too hot in this... can you help me take this off?"

✴ everything he makes in arts and crafts, he shows it to you.

⤷ half of the time, it's jewelry for you. the other half is for percy and leo.

✴ if you ever get in a discussion with one of his bros, he looks like a sad puppy for having to pick a side. but he always picks yours.

✴ whenever he goes to new rome alone, he comes back with millions of gift for you.

⤷ that either made him think of you, or thought it would be something you like.

✴ has shared a playlist with you.

⤷ before he asked you out, he made three playlists. "songs that would be ours if we were dating. / songs that remind me of her. / songs about one-sided pinning."

✴ he was surprised when he found out you also had a crush on him.

✴ supports everything you do. (sports, hobbies, etc etc)

✴ this man will 100% have a shoe box of things you gifted him, going from a chocolate wrap to comfort him when he first came to chb to glasses with little lighting bolts.

✴ if someone hits on him / ask him out (didn't know / didn't care he has a girlfriend) jason has two options:

⤷ "no, thanks. although my girlfriend would love to be your friend, have you met her yet?"

⤷ "no. i'm deeply in love with my girlfriend, have you seen how pretty she is? i bought her this bookmark yesterday."

✴ never really liked valentines day or any other holiday since it wasn't celebrated in camp jupiter, but goes all out with you in each one.

⤷ dress up with you for halloween if it's something you want to do, fills every room with hearts and flowers and takes you out in special dates for valentines day, plans your chritsmas gifts months ahead.

✴ if you have herritage ( or are ) from a different culture, he would learn everything and more.

⤷ makes sure that he respects it and honors it. learning your home language, learning your favorite foods, learning your history etc etc.

✴ he burns an extra piece of food for your godly parent.

✴ helps you with homework / does it with you.

✴ loves doing double dating.

⤷ your favorite one has been hazel and frank. his favorite one has been percy and annabeth.

⤷ if the second one happens, you and annie feel like the third wheel of their bromance.

✴ he doesn't have a good relationship with his dad, and... his mom is dead, so he introduces you to thalia, apollo, and maybe hera. also with all of your other friends.

⤷ "guys, this is yn."

⤷ "are you forgetting that i've known half of them longer than you have? did your amnesia came back?

⤷ "the voices in your head are getting louder, my love."

✴ that man LOVES pet names. specifically the original ones he comes up with for you.

✴ he loves to gossip with you.

✴ he is SO FUNNY. we have to stop pretending he's not.

✴ for your anniversary he would probably make you a memory book of your whole relationship.

✴ "i love you, good night, dear."

⤷ "are you staying with me? isn't that against the rules?"

⤷ "screw the rules. good night, my love."

✴ you're one of the few ones allowed to use his sword.

✴ loves matching outfits with you.

✴ he said, 'i love you' first. it was an accident when the two of you were in the middle of fighting monsters, and it just slipped.

✴ has your initials in a chain around his neck.

[dreamaboutwhathappens]

reblog and tag what your FIRST favorite taylor song was!! mine was picture to burn — in the summer of 2007 my mom took our little silver cd player all around the house all the time playing debut and picture to burn was little me’s fave :)

[aroaceleovaldez]

Something something Jason feeling like he doesn't quite fit as "Greek" or "Roman" as a metaphor for bisexuality, particularly the semi-canonical bi-coding in his half of experiences during the Cupid scene and how Favonius and Cupid speak to him in parallel to the scenes confirming Nico is gay.

Something something the camps as metaphors for traditionally acceptable forms of relationships and Nico living as a rogue outside of them, rejecting expectation (ergo in himself representing a metaphor of queer identity and living outside of boxes and defined/usually hetero-allonormative/binary ideas of what love/relationships should look like) versus Jason struggling with the expectation to conform to a label and even discussing with Nico both of them remaining at CHB together.

Something something the inverse of Jason shifting away from the camps after he breaks up with Piper, feeling lost and unable to find a place between the camps as he begins to explore his queer identity properly for the first time versus Nico only remaining at CHB because he has entered a relationship. In this essay I will-

[reve-de-sang]

i love this a lot. i wanted to do a series of oneshots with lestat v florence. i wanted shade that would darken the earth. it was going to be fucking hilarious.

but first my brain forced me to get him in the house somehow.

getting this man in the door again, let alone living there? for my brain it takes Paul making a different choice and Lestat going all in. and Louis, with no tragedy to torch his life, facing his own misery. and a little more sex.

--

“You still doing business with that man Lestat?”

“Nah. Didn’t work out.”

“That’s good. ‘Cause he the devil.”

“You think everyone’s the devil.”

“He’s here to take souls. He told me so. He spoke to me without moving his lips.”

“He got tricks is all.”

“Mortal sins must be confessed, Louis.”

“Ain’t never gonna see him again, Paul.”

Paul nodded thoughtfully.

“You think Levi loves her enough? You know, Grace needs a lot of love.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he’s givin’ her everything he’s got inside him?”

Louis nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Paul sighed, and stood up from his perch on the rooftop adjacent to Louis. “Mother made a good party for Grace.”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, they gon’ talk about this one for years,” Louis grinned. 

Paul considered Louis. Louis’s face was bathed in the gold of the rising sun as he studied the sky.

“I love you, Louis.”

“And I love you too, baby brother.”

Paul made his way over and sat down on the peak of the roof next to Louis. “I ate too much chocolate cake,” Paul sighed. 

They watched the sunrise blossom from pink to lemon.

—

“I don’t take kindly to being avoided,” a voice at his elbow growled. 

Louis tipped back the last of his sazerac and met Lestat’s eyes in the mirror behind the bar. “Most people would pick up on the message in that. You all more direct in France? Tell each other to fuck off?” 

Louis had perhaps had too much to drink tonight. He felt worn thin. Things were supposed to have gotten back to normal after Grace’s wedding. He was back to being the dutiful son, the flawless executor of his family’s estate, the benevolent brother and caretaker, the generous parishioner, the upstanding community member, the ruthless proprietor, the deferential fellow businessman to the white power players who kept him in the orbit of their social circle—but never any closer. Every hour was accounted for, every movement beyond reproach. 

But “normal” didn’t work anymore. It was like having his head shoved back under water. He hadn’t had a breath in weeks, and Lestat looked like the surface of the ocean above him.

Even now he felt his heart pound at Lestat’s mere proximity. Damn him. 

Lestat waited for the bartender to pass them by. They had a miraculous bubble around them from the crowd at the moment, but nowhere would’ve been private enough for the conversation Louis was trying to avoid.

“You send mixed messages,” Lestat said, looking away from the mirror to address Louis’s profile. “Before your absence you made an excellent case for our…continued business dealings.”

“My schedule is full, Lestat. I don’t have time for what you’re proposing. Or interest, either, for that matter.” Louis signaled the bartender for another drink.

“A drowning man pouring even more fluids down his throat,” Lestat mused.

“What do you know about it.” He needed to tell him to fuck off. He was going to find the strength any moment now.

“Quite a lot, actually. By my own experiences.”

A tipsy man and woman bumped gently against Louis’s elbow as they settled at the bar, and apologized. Louis ignored them, and also tried to ignore the weight of Lestat’s gaze on him. 

“Before I came to America, I, too, ran my family’s estate. A town of people looked to me to fulfill a role. There was no escaping it, despite my attempts. It became my identity. I know what it means to suffocate, Louis.”

Louis scoffed. “Yet here you are.” The bartender slid his new glass to him, removed the empty.

“I met someone. We fell in love. My mother financed our escape.”

Louis rolled his eyes over to Lestat with sharp scorn. “So you abandoned your family.”

“Yes. Save for my mother, I despised them. And this person I loved showed me what it was to live.” Lestat laid his hand on the bar near Louis’s elbow, conversationally, not touching, but tantalizingly close. “However, you do not need to abandon your family, or your beautiful city, to live, Louis.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

 <<You are several fathoms deep, I wonder that you have endured so long. Perhaps it is practice. But now that you have had a taste of air, you will not survive like this. You know what it is to breathe, now.>>

Louis was humiliated to find sudden tears burning at his eyes and looked away, trying furiously to stifle them. Knocking most of his drink back. “Cut it out.”

<<Oh, Louis.>>

The woman next to him bumped Louis again as she burst into a gale of laughter, and Lestat steadied Louis’s elbow as he stumbled. Startled at the electric contact, they locked eyes.

“It is too crowded in here, and hot,” Lestat said. “Let’s get a breath of fresh air.”

—

Louis leaned into his intoxication on the walk back to Lestat’s place, inevitably Lestat’s place. He was too drunk to do the right thing, too drunk to remember his obligations, too drunk not to sin. 

He wasn’t drunk enough.

He was far too lucid as he pounced on Lestat the second the front door clicked closed, and was the one to drag them, guide them up the stairs as they feverishly slipped their tongues and lips together, pushing each others’ clothes away from their bodies. If it was inevitable tonight, Louis didn’t want to fuck around with music boxes and glass tumblers of expensive whiskey and talk.

Lestat took him apart in his bed once more, yet Louis felt power in being the one to cause Lestat’s hands to tremble, to inspire Lestat’s worshipful kisses down his body, settling between Louis’s legs like a supplicant. 

Louis couldn’t deny his own hand in this, how powerfully he needed it to happen. As they merged together, Lestat at his throat and buried in his body, Louis coaxed Lestat to greater heights—harder thrusts, stronger pulls from his neck—chasing the exquisite joining and obliteration of isolation in his own body.

Louis’s lungs were heaving like a racehorse as he came down in the aftermath. Like before, Louis had the sensation they were of one mind as they stared, dazed, into each others’ eyes. Louis’s skin was a continuation of Lestat’s, and Lestat trailed a palm over his hip, an extension of himself. Lestat’s still-hard cock was Louis’s, sheathed deep within him; they shivered in unison as Louis squeezed down to stoke the pleasure again.

<<We should live like this forever,>> someone thought, and they agreed. 

—

And then it was morning.

The windows glowed lilac before sunrise. Louis stirred; he’d maybe had an hour of sleep, but he felt more alive than he had in years.

Reality hit him like a blow. 

He needed to learn how to cut all of this out of himself all over again.

“No,” Lestat rasped, coming awake with Louis's thoughts. <<Louis. Choose us. Choose us,>> he pleaded.

Louis curled away. They both groaned in pain, and Louis dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Can’t.”

Lestat shifted to press his forehead to Louis’s shoulder blade. <<Then take me into your world. Don’t leave me here.>>

Louis froze. “What?”

“Louis. My dowry would eclipse your family’s fortune several times over.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s spine, skated his knuckles down Louis’s ribs. “Give your mother one more son to keep her in the life to which she is accustomed. A stronger safety net for Paul. And you…the companion heart you have been longing for.”

Louis reached back to still Lestat’s hand, clasp it. “That’s not going to work here. I don’t know what you get up to in France? But you have to know that’s insane.”

Something about the sunrise felt urgent to Louis, but he pushed it from his mind. He turned in the bedsheets to face Lestat. He forgot what he was going to say as they cupped each other’s faces. 

“Say yes.”

“I— I don’t— The world doesn’t work like that.”

“You make me want to try.”

“What?”

“Louis,” Lestat murmured. “You know that money opens most doors. And you must know the things I can do—” a frisson of power washed over them, “—has depths unfamiliar to you. But more than those things, if we are for each other, we can have a life we neither of us could have dreamed of.

“I want to tell you a story, Louis. I was sworn to secrecy, and the man who demanded my oath would kill you if he learned of this. But I swear to protect you with my life. You see—I have witnessed the kind of life we want. It was on an island, far from here. I will tell you how we can have something like it and make a home.” He stroked his thumb over Louis’s cheekbone. “There is danger in this knowledge. The choice is yours.” Lestat hesitated, looking uncertain, hopeful. Desperate. “Do you want to know?”

“Lestat. I— What the fuck is wrong with your head.” 

—

Louis’s distantly related cousin was overjoyed to find a family relation in New Orleans. They regaled their usual fellow card players at the Fair Play of their chance discussion of their ancestors, and their excitement at discovering kin in front of them all along.

“To have a likeminded ancestor travel from Auvergne to the new world—no wonder the journey called to me,” Lestat reflected as he lost a round of poker lavishly. Tom knew he was being buttered up with the winnings, but was off-balance as to how to treat the burgeoning union before him. 

Tom didn’t care what kind of money this ridiculous fucking foreigner threw around, there wasn’t room at the societal table for du Lac to move up in the ranks. Fenwick, when he sobered up, was going to throw a shitfit, but for now he seemly dimly ambivalent.

<<I would rather have your support than your ambivalence, Tom,>> Lestat’s voice rang in his head. Tom felt a sense of vertigo as he noticed the sudden stillness of the other players, frozen in their movements. Du Lac and Lioncourt alone were animated, smoking their respective cigar and cigarette, regarding Tom the way he himself was used to appraising those who worked for him. How drunk was he?

<<We’re so glad that you know a good opportunity when you see it. And that you’ve decided to take us under your wing as we expand our interests in the city,>> Lestat’s voice continued, everywhere and nowhere at once. He ashed his cigarette and studied Tom with his eerie cold eyes. <<Your generous offer to sell us the Fair Play at such a bargain—well. It feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.>>

“Uh, yes,” Tom stuttered, knuckling an eye. He felt like he was in a dream. He’d always liked Lioncourt, and du Lac was a decent fellow. Seemed a shame not to cultivate a strong relationship there. “Happy to, happy to. I know a good opportunity when I see it. I’ve decided to take y’all under my wing as you expand your interests in the city.” Tom sniffed, absently felt for his tumbler of whiskey. 

“Feels like—well. To the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Tom said, giving them a jaunty toast and draining his glass.

—

Louis absolutely refused for Lestat to use his tricks on his family. Anyone outside the house: fine. But not on his family.

“You’re doing what?” Florence’s polite voice could have frozen over hell. 

“Lestat will be moving in with us, Mama.” Louis perched on the edge of the sofa in the parlor. Lestat’s posture next to him was more relaxed, but Louis sensed his tension. Florence sat across from them. In Louis and Lestat’s planning for this, Lestat had insisted Louis was not truly asking for permission, and Louis agreed. They both knew they were lying to themselves. 

“We’re going to be working closely on a large business proposition over the next several years. Developments in the city,” Louis continued. He glanced to Lestat. “Lestat will be merging his fortune into ours.”

“Madam,” Lestat began, plucking an envelope from his inside suit pocket. “I have had my attorney make an accounting of my assets that will soon be at the du Lac family’s disposal. However, we would like your blessing.” Lestat offered her the envelope. “Does this meet with your approval?” 

Florence received the envelope as if she had been handed someone’s soiled handkerchief. And it smelled.

She delicately lifted up the flap and extracted the fine parchment. Florence tucked the envelope behind the document as she unfolded it and regarded the accounts.

Louis cut his eyes to Lestat. Narrowed them. No tricks, he willed Lestat to understand. Lestat gave him a tense smile in return. No tricks.

The silence was very long. Florence’s face was stone. Lestat imagined he saw a journey in her eyes as she made massive shifts to her priorities and sensibilities and tolerances. It was a breathtaking fortune after all.

“Well, then,” Florence intoned in her melodic voice as she returned the document to its envelope. “I’m sure Louis will make adequate accommodations for you in the carriage house. It’s been recently remodeled.” She tilted the envelope back to Lestat, and he took it. “Welcome to our home.”

“Oh, he won’t need the carriage house, Mama,” Louis smiled firmly. “We’ll be sharing my quarters. We’ll be working on a lot of business propositions. Wouldn’t want to disturb the household.”

Florence’s tight smile could have frozen over hell.

Paul glared at them from the hallway as if they’d just dipped communion wafers in dogshit. Louis gave him a hopeful smile. Lestat gave him a wink.

[gayestcowboy]

one of the reasons i hate generative AI is that i have a chronic injury that makes me unable to write by hand for longer than a few sentences and therefore i need a keyboard in order to write essays for classes, and i’m a bit worried that professors won’t allow me to type essays as a result of potential AI use, even though i have a perfectly valid medical reason to need a keyboard. i’ve seen a few posts online saying that the only way to prevent students from relying on AI is to make them write by hand, and while i understand the sentiment and don’t even necessarily disagree with the general point, the matter of accessibility still needs to be addressed somehow, and it’s just a bit frustrating on a personal level as someone who has had to fight with teachers and professors in order for my needs to be met even before the era of chatgpt

[spikedambrosia]

I love my life

[reddamselette]

You’re in everything I see and smell and hear and feel. The heat and warmth from the sun, the crackle of the fire of the camp’s hearth that almost holds echoes of your laugh. Sometimes I would visit the forge hoping to find you there but I never do. The realization hits me harder every time because I miss you so much that I hate you. I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you.

I miss you. We were supposed to be happy, Firefly. We had plans and a future. I miss you. I miss you so much that I want to die to be with you. Why do you always leave me? I miss you.

I love you.

— J. G

[capn-twitchery]

calling twitch "captain lazaret" feels so fucked up. it's like two different guys

their party name vs their business name

[sluvjvn]

love letters >>>

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Jason Grace love letter to Nymph!reader please 🩷

Dear (Y/N),

As the winds dance through the woods and the streams echo the melody of our love, it is impossible not to express the fervor in my heart for you. From the moment our eyes met between the leafy trees, my life found a new light, a magic that only you possess.

Each leaf that dances in the wind seems to carry a piece of your charm, each murmur of the waters reflects the sweetness of your voice. I feel blessed by the gods to have found someone as heavenly as you, someone whose presence beautifies every ray of sunlight that touches the floor of this forest.

In this world of adventures and challenges, you are my anchor, my source of serenity. Your smile is more radiant than the sun and more welcoming than the hugs of home. May the gods allow me to be the guardian of your heart, taking care of it with the devotion that only someone in love is capable of offering.

My heart was captured by an indomitable and overwhelming force. Your charm, your grace, your singular beauty... Everything about you involves me in a way that I can't explain. I wonder if this is one of the powers of a nymph, but it doesn't really matter, does it? All that matters is that I love you.

In this eternal realm of nature, I promise to be by your side, defending and loving you with the intensity of the storms and the constancy of the seasons. May our journey be as lasting as the oldest trees and as vivid as the colors of the flowers that adorn our paths.

With all my love,

Jason Grace.

[balletfilmss]

DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW ANGRIER

✸ pairing: jason grace x daughter of minerva! reader

✸ summary: you don’t know anything about jason anymore, except for the fact that you hate him for leaving

✸ warnings: kinda angsty…BUT I SWEAR THERE’S FLUFF AT THE END!! hurt / comfort type, & i think i swore like twice whoopsie

✸ notes: this might be my longest fic yet, hello? i mean, that’s not saying much but STILL

you didn’t know much about jason grace as of lately. it was true that there once was a time that even the smallest of scratches on his skin weren’t a mastery to you, a time when you knew him better than you knew yourself.

until six months ago, when he disappeared without a trace and left you all alone.

as a daughter of minerva, you’d never had many friend to begin with aside from the two praetors of new rome, for your skills and intellect set you apart from your fellow members of the legion and as leader of the first cohort, you were high up in the ranks anyways.

but now, six months later, you found yourself filling the post of second praetor not because you wanted to, but because you had to. the weight of the world had fallen upon your shoulders in only a fortnight

then, percy jackson had appeared.

you’d given him the position you held graciously, but it did nothing to repair the damage done that caused you to be emotional and physically strung out beyond relief.

you didn’t know much about jason grace anymore, except for the fact that you hated him, and unlike reyna, would not be welcoming him back with open arms when he arrived at camp jupiter as percy said he would.

and arrive he did, aboard a flying warship with three other demigods you’d never seen in your life.

while percy, reyna, and the rest of the legion welcomed them in with open arms, you were nowhere to be found.

jason’s eyes scanned the crowd over and over again and each time failed to find just the face he was looking for.

ever since his memories had been returned, the son of jupiter had been driving himself crazy with anticipation to see you again.

the curve of your soft lips and spark in your eyes; the flex of you muscles as you fought and the amused quirk of your brow when you inevitably won. he remembered it all and he missed it all so much that he thought it just might suffocate him. to him, every minute without you was another minute closer to asphyxiation.

fortunately, even after six months, you were still the same girl he had always known. the same one who would tie her shoe laces with two loops instead of one and always had to step out the door with her left foot first.

the same girl who knew him better than himself, and who he knew just as well.

so when he walked into your typical getaway spot, you couldn’t really say you were surprised.

hidden and tucked away in the corner of the new rome library you sat, a book you could’ve even say the name of propped open in front of you just in case someone came in and you needed to look occupied.

you hadn’t read a word since you’d gotten in there, for your brain was too busy reeling with thoughts about the boy who was now sliding his way through the front door to the library in search of you.

you heard footsteps enter the otherwise pen-drop silent room and darted your eyes to the page of your book, resting your face in your hand and letting hair fall over your face in hopes it might cover you up and by some miracle, conceal your identity.

but unfortunately for you, jason would know you anywhere.

he stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on you, his darling girl hiding away in a corner, trying to disguise herself from the world. you weren’t in your official centurion getup like everyone else, but instead jeans and a purple camp jupiter t-shirt that exposed the four lines scored across your arm.

four years. four years that you had known jason, and four years that had been stolen from him just like that.

“yn?” he uttered, asking even though he knew for certain that it was you.

you didn’t answer, just flipped the page of the book you weren’t reading. it bruised his heart a little bit, but he expected nothing less ever since your absence at the welcome party.

he walked closer, testing the water in hopes that you’d at least spare him a glance up. when you didn’t even give him that much, he crossed the room fully until he was standing in front of the table you sat at.

“i braced myself when reyna told me you were mad, but i didn’t expect for you to ignore my existence entirely,” he told you after the silence became too much to bear.

with a huff, you snapped your book dramatically shut and looked up at him, avoiding eye contact and making yourself seem as uninterested as you could possibly scrounge up.

for the first time in months, you took in the beautiful sight that was jason grace. he looked almost the same, with his starry eyes and pretty smile. except he was dressed in a eye-stabbingly bright orange shirt that read camp half-blood on it and was seemingly a size too small, considering how it distractingly hugged his biceps a little too snugly.

he still looked like him, but if he was masquerading around as someone he wasn’t. a son of zeus and not jupiter. a quest leader and not a praetor. a teenage boy, not a soldier.

“library’s closed, and you don’t have authorization to override that rule anymore,” you told him bluntly. “or did you forget how to read, too?”

“okay, ouch,” he nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop himself from fidgeting. but that was the girl he knew: assertive and naturally bossy, for lack of a better word. a true leader, just like himself.

“i’m trying to read, leave,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes off of his.

“i know you’re not reading that,” he rolled his eyes, knowing that you didn’t see it became if you had, he would’ve been chided.

“yes, i am.” you insisted, reopening the book.

“sweetheart,” he sighed, pushing the cover shut again and pointing to the bleary title. “it’s in italian. which if i remember correctly, you don’t speak.”

your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you were mad at him, gods damn it, and you were gonna act like it.

slamming the book down, you pushed yourself to your feet and began towards the door, not giving him the decency of another word.

poor jason didn’t know what was going on. he didn’t know why you were acting this way or why he didn’t get the overwhelming joy of you running to his arms like annabeth had percy’s. no, instead you ran off at the mention of him and refused to meet his eyes.

he’d lost six months with you, and briefly lost the memories of all four years of you, there was no way he was going to lose you now too.

the fear of losing you— all of you— for good had a grip on him so tight that it made him catch your wrist with his hand before you could leave, and the touch of your skin against his sent a refreshing shock through his senses. one chance was all he needed to make sure you didn’t slip through his fingers again.

“don’t go,” he said. “please. i— i don’t really know what’s wrong, but i know that i want to and that i want to fix it.”

for the first time again, your eyes met his. but where his were soft and concerned, yours were glassy and inflamed.

“you don’t know?” you glowered loudly, voice echoing in the silent and empty library, eyes holding angry tears. “jason, you left me! and for months, i tried to figure out what was wrong with me that made you do it, until everyone reminded me that it doesn’t matter what i think or how i feel, because there’s people to take care of and responsibilities to handle.”

jason stared at you, all the things he’d planned to say suddenly lost as he processed your broken words.

“and yeah, i know now that it was all juno, but by the time i was told, everything had already changed too much.”

“too much?” he questioned, looking down at you like a wounded puppy and yanking on your heartstrings.

it wasn’t his fault, none of it was. the involuntary leaving, the memories being wiped, the identity shattering feeling of being an amnesiac. it was all juno and her twisted plans and jason was just a victim of it, and you knew that.

but he had forgotten you once, so what would stop him from doing so again? or worse, what if he had gotten all these memories of you back and the fresher version of his mind had decided that you just weren’t worth it anymore? maybe you never were.

you were just protecting yourself, your heart.

at first when he left, you’d prayed every night he’d come back, wished on every shooting star and dandelion. but then you were forced to accept that no, he wasn’t coming back and somebody had to step up. you had to step up.

it hurt so hard to have your life flipped upside down and take on more than you could even imagine, you just couldn’t do it again.

who’s to say that the minute you let him back in, he wasn’t going to be ripped right away again?

“too much.” you restated. “before percy showed up, i was filling your position and holding my own. all while people either asked me what happened to you or looked at me like i was some poor, little wounded deer, and helping reyna keep everything from falling apart, and with fucking octavian breathing down my neck! and the whole time i couldn’t think of anything but you, and your stupid…you!”

you groaned and shoved your face in your hands to hide the tears that had already started falling, the frustration becoming too much.

slowly, jason put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you into his chest, to which you let yourself slowly collapse into his embrace, your hands the only barrier between your face and his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you carefully like he’d done many times before, rocking back and forth as a silent attempt to calm you. he felt a little guilty for enjoying the feeling of you in his arms again, given the circumstances.

“i’m sorry,” you whimpered into the cotton fabric of his ugly orange shirt. “it’s not your fault. and you don’t deserve to be yelled at or ignored. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair. “i’m sorry for letting you think there was ever anything that could make me want to leave you. and, i’m sorry for not remembering everything sooner.”

you must’ve looked pretty damn rough for him to be apologizing that his memories were stolen by a goddess.

“you really remember?” you whispered into his chest, scared that if you said it too loudly the answer might change.

“yeah,” he answered, picking his head up off yours and tapping the back of your head to draw you out of his chest.

you didn’t go far, looking up at him while still in his arms, tear-streaked face and all.

“there she is,” he mused. “there’s my pretty girl.”

the frown on your face deepened at that, purely because your face was surely red and covered in tears, and he decided to compliment it anyways.

“everything? you remember it all?” you sniffed.

“everything.” he confirmed. “like how this is where you go when you’re stressed,” he dipped his head down and kissed your cheek.

“and your favorite color’s light blue,” he kissed your other cheek. “and you prefer mystery books to romance,” your forehead. “and i even remember the time i tied your shoe for you and got kicked in the face in exchange.” your nose.

you were eye-to-eye now, drowning in oceanic blue surrounding his blown-up pupils.

a small giggle passed your lips at the last anecdote, pressing a nostalgic smile onto your lips. “i missed you,” you admitted.

“i missed you too,” he said. “can i have a kiss now?”

you smiled and pulled his face to yours, capturing his familiar and dearly missed lips with your own. after all the fussing and fighting you’d done, he could have as many kisses as he wanted.

[hungrydolphin91]

Font replicated from Dawn of the New World

Font replicated from Tales of Graces

[gracehosborn]

Founders Online Search Results for letters written by Alexander Hamilton containing the phrase "my servant". Most of these letters were written during the Revolutionary War, with the results pictured dating between 1778-1781. All of the letters featured here pertain to travel (via horseback) and the need of supplies regarding Hamilton's unnamed "servant".

So uh... are we going to talk about this? Because the amount of questions I have. Especially in the context of writing TAI. As far as I can recall, I haven't seen a biographer explicitly talk about this. But there could just be something out there I have no knowledge of. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[aquatint-101]

Okay but is it really a Zuko love story if you're not getting secondhand embarrassment from reading his POV? He's not "introvert pondering the mysteries of the universe and is secretly suave and charming" awkward he's "has no brain-to-mouth filter except for a funhouse mirror and negative understanding of social cues" awkward. He gets his girlfriend seashells and monologues to frogs. He thinks "you're so beautiful when you hate the world" and "you have a big appetite" are effective pickup lines. He's not an awkward turtleduck, he's an awkward turtleduck with a blaring air horn.