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remakethestars · 3 years

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CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.)

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels.

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons.

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them.

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down.

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy.

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though.

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises.

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously).

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling.

The “Macarena.”

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural.

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video.

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football.

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall.

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught.

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs.

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!”

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc.

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair.

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters.

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux.

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point.

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t.

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth).

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can.

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Apollo #Apollo kids #children of Apollo #Apollo cabin #headcanons #headcannons #Percy Jackson #PJO #HOO #TOA #remakethestars #art #archery #painting #healing #doctors #sun #hcs #TW: mentions of violence

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graedari · 3 years

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*asks you about your AA7 ideas*

(the redesigns blew my mind 😭)

THANK YOU 😭😭😭

I'm gonna go on a small rant about details in Apollo's design because I spent forever doing his redesign-

If you wanna see more about my AA7 ideas (for Apollo's version of the game) check out the hashtag #Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney - Dual Extraction)

Long post below cut:

So in Apollo's design I really wanted to focus on the split influence from his Japanifornia life and his new (but also kinda old cause he started there lol) Khura'in life

Apollo's outfit is clearly influenced by Dhurke's:

The shirt style is the same, as well as them both bearing a sash around their waist (I was planning on making it the same sash, but decided to just color it the same as Apollo's tie instead)

His boots are influenced both by the styles of Nahyuta's and Dhurke's (I sorta just tried to find a happy medium between the two so I wasn't just outright giving him one of their shoes. And then they just kept the coloring of his old dress shoes)

The detailing on the boarder of his shirt is actually the pattern from Jove's guitar strap! (which I really like as homage to his father whom he finally got some closure on during the last case of Spirit of Justice)

And my favorite detail for his design is the left vs. right side

On Apollo's right is his new inheritance- his Khrura'inese Defense Attorney Badge (Dragon's Eye) and his new Defiant Dragons tattoo

However, on his left is his old inheritance- his bracelet from his biological mother that allows him to use Perceive, and his Japanifornia Defense Attorney Badge (which he now wears as an earring).

#graedari answers #ask: donaldtheduckdad #Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney - Dual Extraction #ace attorney #apollo justice #character study #design study #dhurke sahdmadhi #nahyuta sahdmadhi #jove justice

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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aiyaar · 3 years

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Merry Christmas everyone!💫💕 Hope you're having an amazing Christmas with the people you love. Here's my Christmas gift for y'all. Solangelo celebrating Christmas 🖤💛🌲💫

Ariana Grande- Love Is Everything

Nico woke up the next morning, feeling so much happiness. Sunlight streamed throught the curtains and shone in his eyes. Apollo had already started his day.

Nico felt a hand in his hair and rolled over, meeting with sky blue eyes.

“Merry Christmas.” Will whispered, smiling at him.

“Merry Christmas.”

Nico lifted himself a little bit, resting his chin on Will’s chest, drawing his finger around the tattoo on his left pectoral.

“Still can’t believe it’s real.” Nico said, raising on elbow and looking Will in the eyes. ”You’re real. And I’m finally home. With you.”

Will lay on his back, entangling his long fingers in the black curls.

“A whole month.” He said, cupping Nico’s face with his hands. “So many things we can do. But all I want is to lie in the bed like this with you.”

“I’d like to spend the whole Christmas day like this.” Nico said, feeling Will’s scent. He always smelled like morning dew, grass and medicaments.

“But we have a lot to do.” Nico felt Will’s chest lifting up a little with a sigh. “Mom’s been calling since 6 a.m. And I promised Kayla and Austin we will visit camp today. Dad will come too.”

“Yeah.” Nico smiled, thinking about Naomi. Will had an amazing mother. “I also need to see Hazel.”

“Then I’ll go and make us breakfast. After that we’ll go celebrating Christmas with our families.”

Will tried to get up but Nico was still lying on top of him.

“Or we can cuddle ten more minutes.”

“Okay.” Will chuckled, lying down and kissing Nico’s forehead. “Ten more minutes.”

Ten minutes grew into an hour, so now they were driving on the highway to see Will’s mother. And they were late

They were wearing the sweaters Naomi made for them last year: Nico’s was black, with a skull in a Christmas year and Will’s yellow, reindeers on his sweater were circling around an embroidered bright sun.

Naomi Solace opened the door, wearing a red dress and an apron. Her auburn hair were gathered in a bun.

“Boys!” She cried, hugging them both. She smelled like cookies and chocolate. “Come in, come in. I have so many things to ask you. Nico, how’s there in Venice?”

Nico always loved that atmosphere that was in the air in Will’s childhood house on Christmas. It was special.

Naomi kept asking about Nico’s college, Venice, Will’s exams. She told them about many Christmas concerts she had. They were talking, laughing, singing.

The camp Half-Blood was always quiet on Christmas. There were like twenty people who stayed and Nico loved that calmness around the camp.

Walking to the Big House, Nico had so many memories. There’s the lake, where he and Will like to go on a canoe date. Here’s his cabin, no one lived there for a couple of years. He looked at the dining pavilion, a hole he made in a Christmas day many years ago, the worst day of his life. He looked at the Big House and could almost see teenagers Will and Nico playing this stupid card game with Dionysus on the porch.

Nostalgia flooded his heart and tears appeared in his eyes as he remembered the first day he saw this mazing place. It was ages ago but he remembered it as if it was tomorrow.

Will took his hand and Nico knew that Will had the same sweet ache in his heart.

Chiron galloped on the snowy meadow, greeting them and wishing merry Christmas. Dionysus looked as grumpy as usual but he felicitated them and gave Nico a candy cane. Nico never understood it but Dionysus had grown to care about Nico as if he was his son. Ever since that Tartarus thing… No, he told himself, don’t think about it.

They met Apollo on the archery spot.

“My boys!” He hugged Will and kissed the top of Nico’s head. Nico got used to this, the sun god has been doing this every time he saw Nico after the battle in the tower of Nero. It was sort of a habit.

“You guys look so good.” Apollo beamed at them. “How have you been? My boy was probably dying there without his cute little boyfriend on his side.” Apollo petted Nico’s cheek. Nico should’ve already get used to it but he still blushed.

After Apollo they met Piper and Leo, who returned to camp to work on some secret project or whatever. Then they met Kayla and Austin and went to the dining pavilion to drink eggnog together.

The next stop were Jacksons. Sally’s greeting was as warm as usual. She almost treated Percy’s demigod friends as if they are her own children. Estelle was already six and she kept clinging to Nico, ranting about everything.

Will and Annabeth were discussing something about colleges, while Percy told Nico about New Rome, the huntresses and all that he missed when he was in Venice.

“Thank the fates there’s no titans, giants and gods who seek for help this year.” Percy said, snatching a cookie from Sally’s tray. “It’s been calm for years.”

“Hey.” Nico slightly hit him on the head. “Don’t jinx it, idiota. “

Percy rubbed his head, pouting a little but couldn’t argue with di Angelo.

They didn’t stay for a long time in Hades place. It wasn’t in the Underworld, no. He had a luxurious house, little gloomy but snug in the living world. Nico always felt uncomfortable when Demeter was around, so he was happy it was only his father and Persephone.

His stepmother wasn’t that horrible now, after all these years she had grown to maybe like Nico and Will, being the son of a son god, had a good effect on her flowers, so she didn’t mind them visiting sometimes. As a Christmas present she gave Nico a whole bouquet of roses and he had no idea what to do with them. The bouquet was two big and Will said it was cute how when Nico hold it, his face couldn’t be seen and roses almost overbalanced them.

It was the most awkward meeting this Christmas. Hades had gave Nico too many presents: the brand new IPhone that came out like yesterday, new watches (Nico didn’t even wear watches) and transferred more money to his bank account. Knowing that Nico, didn’t like driving, he solemnly handed over new car keys for Will, staying that the car was already on the parking lot of their house. Hades gave Will a new car every Christmas, since he was 17 and Will didn’t know what to do with them all. When they tried to sell one, Hades took offense, so they had to keep them.

Besides the present he kept glaring at Will as if he did something bad and even though they’ve been together for five years now, he asked what was his actual intentions, while Persephone gave Nico a lecture about why they should have more flowers in home.

They walked out of Hades’ place embarrassed, as usual.

The New Rome was, unlike Camp Half-Blood, very animated. The Christmas was in the air.

Huntresses of Artemis came by, having a day of. Nico was happy to chat with Reyna but he kept looking for one particular person in the crowd.

Jason told him he’ll come back to America too and will celebrate Christmas in New Rome.

Nico looked around, suddenly yelping when someone hugged him from the back, lifting him from the ground.

“Jason!” Nico laughed.

“Hey, lil bro.” Jason smiled, petting his head. “Hello, Will.” He gave Will a high-five.

“How are you? How’s London.” Nico asked, when they sat down on the bench.

“Everything’s cool. A little busy, though. I won’t be able to stay for too long.” Jason answered.

“Well,” Will faced Jason. “You definitely have to visit us before you leave.”

“Yeah.” Nico said. “Anything new in your…personal life?” Nico asked curiously.

Jason laughed softly.

“Maybe.” Nico squinted at him. “Come on, you know I’d tell you if it was serious.” But Jason looked slightly embarrassed. “Ugh, so… Did you guys see Hazel already?”

“Nah.” Nico said. “Reyna said she and Frank are a little busy now.”

“I wonder what are they busy with.” Will chuckled, making both Jason and Nico’s eyes widen.

“Will!”

A half an hour later, Hazel and Frank finally walked out of their praetor house. Frank squeezed Nico and Will in a bear hug, Hazel kissed Nico on the check and hugged Will.

“Gods, I’ve missed you.” She said, taking Nico’s hand. “How’s college?”

They walked together, Nico talking about his year in Venice, Will about his exams and stuff. Frank told them that he’s been planning to go back to Canada next year. He wants to join an army.

“Really?” Nico was a little shocked. “But what about your praetor position.”

Frank looked around, observing the camp as the stood on the hill.

“There’s a lot of worthy guys. Lavinia, for example.” He sighed. “We were just thinking about trying to have our own life, you know? No war, no gods.”

Will looked at Hazel.

“So you’re leaving too?”

Hazel looked a little sad but a gleam lightened in her eyes.

“I want to go to college. In Canada. We’re planning to move together.” She looked at Nico, as if expecting his reaction. He took her hand.

“That’s great! I’m sure you guys we’ll be fine.”

Hazel smiled at him, resting her curly head on her brother’s shoulder.

They drove back home in silence, a warm feeling in their hearts.

“You know.” Nico started, looking at Will. “Five years ago I couldn’t imagine it’ll be like this.”

Will quickly glanced at him, then returning his eyes on the road.

“What do you mean?”

Nico sighed, closing his eyes.

“I have everything now, you know. And it scares me, how fast the nights are changing. I still remember the Battle of Manhattan, as if it was yesterday. And here we are now. And all this changes, they are… Scary. Me living in Venice, you here, Hazel and Frank leaving to Canada. Even Percy and Annabeth are planning to move somewhere else. And what if with all these changes… we’ll lose each other?”

Will removed one hand from the steering wheel, resting it on Nico’s lap. He slowed down the car a little and looked at Nico.

“I know what you mean. Ever since you went to college, it’s been bothering me. But you know what?” Will smiled, squeezing Nico’s hand. “No matter what, we are family. All of us. This Christmas all I can think about is family. My mom, dad, siblings. You. You and your friends, your sister. Even your father.” Will chuckled. “We all are family. And it doesn’t matter where we live and what we do. We’re always together.”

Nico fell silent for a moment, thinking about Will’s words. Then he smiled.

“Right.” He rubbed Will’s hand with a thumb, feeling his warmth. “Family.”

So many years Nico spent looking for something, that will make him feel calm. Happy. He had friends, sister. He met Will. And on this Christmas evening he finally found the right word. They were together, no matter what. Jason, Reyna, Percy. Will’s parents and Nico’s parents. Hazel and Frank. And, most important, Will. He had them all. They were his actual family.

Nico closed his eyes, feeling drowsy as the car wiggled a little. He used to wonder how his life would go if Bianca was with him. But now it didn’t matter. All the things he’s been through was perfectly safe in his heart and he loved them. His life led him to something wonderful.

Eight years passed since the worst Christmas of his life. And today was probably the best Christmas he’d ever had.

Yes, it didn’t matter if he was in Venice, Will in America and Hazel in Canada. It didn’t matter where his family was. As long as love lived in his heart, they are together.

Nico opened his eyes, glancing at Will, who was concentrating on the road. He smiled, closing his eyes again.

Family, he thought as he fell asleep, still feeling Will’s hand in his own.

(Thank you guys for supporting and reading my blog. I've started it few month ago and there's already so many of you! Thank you so much 💕💕💕💕 Merry Christmas guys

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #percy jackson #pjo/hoo #jason grace #solangelo #will solace #frank zhang #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez #hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #trials of apollo

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toogoodmusic · 3 years

Audio

THE TOO GOOD TEN with Brandon Gorman of Wild Love

With a mission to bring the attitude back to pop music, meet your new favorite band Wild Love. The international band combines singer and songwriter Brandon Gorman from Ireland, guitarist Michael Crecca from New York in America and bassist Saygīn Geçener from Turkey as the three enter a new era of Wild Love. Evolving their sound into a hook-driven pop sound that looks to incorporate their previous sound of lively driven rock without “dropping the guitar” the groups returns with the energetic indie-pop-rock song “I Hate That I Need You.” As the group looks to step “out of the filter” with “no bullshit anymore in their lyrics, sonics or how they present themselves” Too Good Music got the opportunity to ask frontman Brandon about the new era of music, how a chance bus stop encounter led to the band’s formation, their craziest fan encounter and so much more. Check out the full Too Good Ten interview below.

The Too Good Ten. Ten Questions. One Artist. Too Good.

1. Starting from the beginning – you guys all met during a “chance high school bus encounter in Virginia” despite being from all over the world (Ireland, Turkey, New York). What’s the full story there? Did you all know right away you guys would be become a band?

WILD LOVE: The full story is I met out former drummer at a bus stop, but it also stretched out over a few day period. I had just moved to America, and I was invited to a party where I met our bass player Si, but we didn’t talk the whole night. Next day we just happened to be heading to DC for the day with a mutual friend and we just hit it off about music. I told him I was starting a band and needed him to play bass and that was it. We played our first gig two weeks later. I think we did know, because we could sense the passion and there is nothing more attractive than that.

2. Congrats on the release of “I Hate That I Need You.” What’s the story behind this one? How did you decide to release this one as the introduction to the new era of Wild Love?

WL: Thank you, yeah the title kind of says it all like. I was having some issues in a relationship and my internal monologue just slipped out. There isn’t much to it other than what’s there. I’m a fairly frank person and you can tell how I'm feeling by just looking at me, so I definitely have been trying to just channel that into my songs. The song also took about 5 minutes to write, which is slightly annoying because I pour hours of time in songs and half of the time, they are rubbish. Yeah, this one just felt right you know. I think it is a great introduction for what’s about to come from us as a band.

3. For you – what’s one thing you need but hate that you do?

WL: Target honestly and I just can’t stop going, I look for any excuse to go there. I don’t even buy anything, but yeah, I need help.

4. Speaking of the new era – this new music is going to be more pop leaning than the more rock sound Wild Love has focused on. What went into the decision to make this transition? What is it about pop music that made you want to explore it more?

WL: I don’t really think there was much of a decision, it has been the natural progression over the last few years in my writing. I have always been such a huge admirer of Pop music old and new. From ABBA to One Direction to Dua Lipa, it's something that is so undeniably brilliant. I found myself listening less to lyrics and more melodies and I think I wanted to chase those myself. I also felt on the more deliberate side of things that pop music has been lacking an attitude for a while and people also don’t give a shit about rock music anymore because everyone sounds like The 1975. So we found ourselves wanting to go after these sounds and hopefully fill a void that I think is there -- give pop the attitude and frankness that it needs.

5. On September 10th you’ll be playing your first full band, in-person live show with The Foxies in Nashville. What are you most looking forward to for that show? What can fans expect from a Wild Love concert?

WL: Just getting in front of people again. Live shows have been this band’s bread and butter for years, it’s the things that gets us the most excited. So getting into a room with people who are all on the same wavelength and just have this moment with everyone is something we’re clamoring for. You can expect a high energy show. Real instruments being played loud by guys who have watched too many videos of Iggy Pop and Sex Pistols.

FOR TICKET INFORMATION CLICK HERE.

6. What was the biggest thing you learned about yourselves (as a band or individually) from going through the past year and a half in quarantine/pandemic?

WL: I learned that you have to have happiness outside of what you love. Once live shows were taken away, I found myself in a space of really lacking purpose. Writing music was definitely a huge help and something I feel very lucky to have had the time to hone in on, but I needed to find something outside of music that makes me happy. So I hiked more, started going to the gym, and being a more present person in my life and my relationships. So yeah, I learned that I was very much in the music and not in much else.

7. What’s the most memorable (funniest/ craziest/inspiring/etc.) fan encounter you’ve ever had?

WL: A girl we know got our band name tattooed on the inside of her mouth which I think is pretty fucking wild.

8. If you had the ability to headline any music festival or musical event – which would be a dream for you to perform at? What would be your closing song for the event?

WL: Either Glasto or Slane Castle in Ireland. Glastonbury is just so iconic, and it has the best crowd in the world. Then Slane Castle is just a few miles down the road from my hometown. I have been and will be dreaming about both my whole life, so here’s to hoping one day I don’t have to dream. I’d say we would end with “I Hate That I Need You” right? It’s just one of those tunes that you can let loose to.

9. For each member, if you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life who would they be?

WL: For me, it’d have to be ABBA, The Vaccines, Arctic Monkeys, Kelsea Ballerini, and Blur.

For Mike, it’s probably Frank Ocean, Bruce Springsteen, Queens of the Stone Age, Bleachers and Arctic Monkeys.

And for Saygīn, I’d say it’s Dayglow, Tame Impala, Hippo Campus, Jacob Collier and Omar Apollo.

10. What’s the rest of 2021 and early 2022 look like for Wild Love?

WL: Push “I Hate That I Need You,” play some more shows, release new music, and hopefully get out on the road and over to Ireland and the UK. Just excited to get out there and show everyone the new stuff we’ve been working on.

A huge shout-out to Wild Love for the time and congrats on the release of the new single, “I Hate That I Need You.” To keep updated with the group and that upcoming music and shows be sure to follow along by checking out the links below:

Facebook

Instagram

Twitter

YouTube

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pjoseries · 4 years

Note

hi! congrats on reaching 600 followers!! i'm a brand new follower and i'd love to request ✨ a drabble for percabeth and soulmate (born with a tattoo of soulmate's last words) thank you and congrats again!

✨ soulmates are born with a tattoo of their soulmate's last words (ao3 link)

(***post-canon, major character death, some violence)

══════════════════

The ocean is quiet today. The waves skirt passed her ankles like it’s afraid to overwhelm her. It won’t. Nothing about the water can—too many memories steeped in sunlight, gold dripping through her hands until all that’s left are remnants of the shine she once experienced. She should try to thank Poseidon for taming the sea for the day, but she thinks he needs it too. He’s always been fond of Percy and despite knowing him for years, the death of his son will still weigh heavily on him.

Annabeth curls her knees up to her chest and she settles her head down, one hand drifting mindlessly through the sand. It takes her a minute to realize she was doodling Percy’s features, nothing really distinct. Just the sharp line of a jaw, the swoop of his hair, the curve of his smile. It hasn’t been long since the funeral, since she gripped Percy’s shroud in her hands and watched as everyone bowed their head and spoke a prayer when it caught flame, but she’s so scared of forgetting his face. She wipes away the sand on her bare calves, letting it stick to her even if the coarseness of it makes her itch under her skin.

She can’t help but remember the last time his funeral happened, years ago when they were both just teens, and Percy barged in on his shroud burning. Gods, the anger left as quickly as it appeared, too busy drowning in relief at the sight of him. She remembers those weeks after she left Percy to die on that mountain, remembers how she thought with a bitter tinge of regret that he wasn’t her soulmate, but he was her best friend and she lost him and it took everything in her not to break down because it was her fault.

Then he came back. But he’s not coming back this time. Not even if she begs the gods, travels down to Hades to bargain for his soul herself. She’s not Orpheus and he’s not Eurydice and they’re not a tragedy or some messed up story that can be solved with a few tricks and pretty words.

Percy’s dead.

He said the last words etched into the fabric of her skin. That’s more permanent than death.

His words ache on the side of her ribs, burning a little. It’s nothing she hasn’t dealt with before, so she just shifts quietly to ease the pain.

There’s a crash of a wave that’s louder in her ears and somebody sits next to her. She doesn’t turn her head from her view of the sea. Bits of sun peaks through the gray skies and it hits the water, bouncing the light back up to her own gaze. The ocean today is a few shades off from Percy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Poseidon says, something caught in his throat. Annabeth ignores it and nods in acknowledgement.

She coughs. “I’m sorry for yours too.”

They stay silent and the waves recede even more, not like when Percy does it. He restrains it so much when he’s emotional, it roars back at him, a perfect representation of his own thoughts. Today though, it’s not suppressed and bubbling and ready to strike out again. It’s just sad.

“He’s probably waiting in Elysium.” The for you is implied, but she hears it all the same.

“You knew?” she asks, spreading her legs out in front of her. She risks a glance at Poseidon and, fuck, it hurts so much to see Percy in him. She adds, almost casually if it’s not for her eyes stinging from the tears she’s holding back, “That we’re soulmates. Were soulmates.”

“It’s not a known fact, but we can sense soulmates. Not to the extent that Aphrodite does, but the stronger the bond, the more apparent it is.”

“How long have you known?”

“Oh, early on,” he says, giving her a gentle smile. “Perhaps when you were dancing back in Olympus. The first time, mind you.”

The laugh that leaves her chest is a little wobbly. She wipes her tears away swiftly. “I miss him. So much.”

“I do too.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without him,” she says, her hands trembling. “He had so many years left, so many left—” with me. “A-and now I have to live without him? Stupid Seaweed Brain. He could’ve at least waited a few more damn years! Demigods don’t live long anyway, I’d probably get killed by some rogue monster.”

In a fit of childish anger, she throws some sand at the sea. It doesn’t help. She huffs out an exasperated breath and lays down, throwing an arm over her eyes. The sand tickles at her scalp and she can feel a lump of slimy seaweed near her arm.

Stupid seaweed.

Her chest shakes with silent sobs and Poseidon taps at her shoulder, giving her time to grieve. And she has time. All the time, without Percy.

Annabeth sends a prayer to Percy and thinks, I’ll see you later.

It must’ve been the wind, but she can almost hear a voice call back: Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Annabeth finds Percy in the crowd and jumps into his awaiting arms, ignoring any odd stares that’s sent her way. He lifts her up off her feet and twirls her around before kissing the tip of her nose. He grins widely, his dimple widening and she presses her lips to it.

“Missed you,” she says into his cheek.

“Missed you too, baby,” he says, then whispers, “How’s Olympus holding up?”

She rolls her eyes and threads her arm through Percy’s, gripping at his elbow as they start walking down to their apartment. “You’d think after fifteen years, they’d finally stop arguing about statute placements. Anyway, forget that. Who are we meeting today for dinner? Is it Demeter’s kids or Apollo’s?”

“Neither, it’s Nike’s kids today.”

Percy makes it a tradition to bring some of the kids out one day of the week to Sally’s for a wellness check-up and ask if they need a place to crash while some transition out of camp back into the world. Annabeth thinks it’s sweet that Percy’s such a caring camp counselor. She knows if someone ever did that for her back when she was a year-round camper, she’d cry. As much as she loves it (and she does, enough to share some of Percy’s camp duties when she has some free time during summer), it’s rather isolating.

While they’re walking, they hear the sound of metal and hissing and they take one look at each other before they run towards the alleyway.

It’s one of the kids, bruised up and bleeding, but her sword’s still up despite her whole arm shaking. The kid’s eyes catch Percy’s and her body relaxes slightly, but enough for the empousa on the far right to begin striking.

Percy quickly uncaps riptide and intercepts it. His movements are sure and steady, moving his body in front of the kid’s. Annabeth flicks her wrist and her knife comes down easily in her hand. She circles the next two empousi on the left and manages to kill one by surprise. Annabeth’s lucky she’s wearing a simple tee and jeans instead of her usual outfit whenever she goes up to Olympus. There’s way too many for one kid and her mind whirs with hundreds of possible answers as to why there’s a hoard near Sally’s apartment tonight. Despite her thoughts, she manages to gut another one while Percy’s fighting off two more and the kid another.

In what seems like a split second, the kid screams and Percy turns around and blocks the attack that would’ve gone through the kid’s heart. But as he does so, his back turns against the other two and Annabeth rushes to fight them off because, dammit, she should’ve had his back. In a panic, she throws her knife and it lodges into one of their heads, leaving her knife clattering on the ground surrounded by dust. But she’s too late. Gods, she’s too late.

Annabeth picks her knife back up, but the empousa tears a whole through Percy’s side, just as he kills the one targeting the kid. Annabeth yells, feral and wild, and slits the empousa’s throat, the last of their gurgling laugh dying as they turn to dust.

Percy slumps to the floor and Annabeth rushes to him. She pats at her pockets for her emergency stash of ambrosia, but they’re flat. She turns towards the kid, frantic, and orders, “Run back to Sally’s and grab the ambrosia.”

The kid’s eyes were flickering towards Percy’s stomach. Frightened. Annabeth doesn’t have the guts to admit that she’s frightened too. “Go.”

The kid runs and Annabeth’s attention is back to Percy who’s shivering. They have no water, no ambrosia, and they’re in the middle of a damn alleyway and he’s bleeding out so fast. Shit.

“Percy,” she says, trembling. “Can you move? We have to move, baby.”

“Can’t,” he grits out. He lets out a forced laugh. “Think my insides are gonna pop out.”

Annabeth’s vision is blurry and she can’t fucking see anything. She shudders in a breath and tries to gently hold Percy together. “Percy, please. Please, this can’t be how it ends. You’re supposed to be with me forever.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, baby. My—fuck, my forever isn’t that long. Glad I spent it with you.”

“We have to get out of here,” she mutters, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his. Her tears fall on his cheeks. She repeats, “We have to get out of here.”

There’s something unbearably sad in Percy’s gaze. The hand that’s not pressed to his stomach reaches up and tucks her hair back. It falls back down, too weak to hold itself up any longer. “Everything will be alright. It’s okay, Annabeth. Everything will be alright.”

She shakes her head and sobs.

Those are the words tattooed on her ribs. When she reaches up again to say more, Percy’s eyes were glazed and distant, staring up at the gloomy sky.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

When they find her, she’s still crying, holding her dead soulmate to her chest.

#percabeth fic #percabeth drabbles #percabeth #pjo #f: pjo #p: percabeth #misc: fr #my writing #*#je réponds #la poste #alyssa's 600 #frozen2s #tw character death #tw violence #yet again the tags fail me #fic: we can meet again somewhere

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gracereadstoomanybooks · 3 years

Text

answering questions I’ve been asked on TikTok✨

QUESTION: how did you get into reading?

So, when I was in middle school (many moons ago) we had this thing called AR Testing. Basically, you read a book and take a test on it—the questions were things that happened in the book, it was really simple. If you got a good grade, you got points. The more points you earned, the more eligible you were for the reading party at the end of each semester. Me, being the nerd I am, got top of my class because I went through 8th grade level books like it was nothing. The librarian at my school brought me books from the high school to read since everything was easy for me, and alas, my addiction began. And now that I have adult money, it’s a true addiction. Also, telling my father “I’m bored” and his response being, “go read a book or something” so thanks dad.

QUESTION: what’s one book you ALWAYS recommend to people?

This one is tough because I’ve read THOUSANDS of books, but if I had to choose one, it would probably be Confess by Colleen Hoover. I fell in love with her work in high school when I first read Ugly Love, but Confess is the type of book that pulls at your heart strings, y’all. It has everything people love: humor, sexual tension, drama, love. GO BUY THE DAMN BOOK. Or honestly any book by Colleen Hoover—she’s a fucking amazing author.

QUESTION: outside of making TikToks, what do you do for a living?

I currently work at a restaurant and hate every second of it. If anyone tells you to become a server, DONT. It’s not worth the hassle, I promise you. Sure, you can make decent money but the amount of rude customers and shitty tips you receive each shift is very disheartening. If you really need a job, do anything BUT work in the food industry.

QUESTION: what’s your wattpad story about?

First question: which one? I have about 30 drafts sitting there waiting to be posted. But, I’m going to assume you’re talking about the Harry Styles fan fiction I’ve been working on for the past 4 years and haven’t had the courage to post. I’ll tell you a little about it: Elaine Aldridge is forced into a betrothal to a man she’s never met & loathes. She goes to his court and realizes things aren’t what they truly seem. And the guard her future husband sticks on her??? None other than Mr. Harry Styles. Add in some magic & deaths and you’ve got my story— The First Prince. (Honestly, that’s an extremely shitty description so if you wanna check it out go to my wattpad account)

QUESTION: how old are you?

Ahem. . . twenty-one.

QUESTION: what is your dream career?

Being a published author and having people rave about my books. That’s all. Or, an editor for a publishing company. Imagine reading all day and being paid for it🤩

QUESTION: what was your least favorite read of 2020?

I already KNOW I’m gonna get shit for this but....... the wicked king. YALL I LITERALLY COULDNT GET THROUGH IT IM SO SORRY, I STILL HAVENT FINISHED IT

QUESTION: current favorite author?

Sarah. J. Maas. I don’t know what it is about her writing style, but it’s addicting. Throne of Glass is hands down the best series I’ve ever read. A Court of Thorns and Roses is the first book I’ve EVER reread. Her stories truly suck you in and hold onto you—you get lost so easily in her writing and it’s like once you’re done with a series, nothing will compare. Or, at least that’s how I felt after finishing Kingdom of Ash. Honorable mentions: Jennifer L. Armentrout, Penelope Douglas, L.J Shen, Elle Kennedy and Kennedy Fox.

QUESTION: any recommendations/tips to give to a new reader?

I’ve always given this advice to people who want to get into reading: find what you like and start with that. If you like romance, I’ve got a list for you to choose from. Mystery? Another list. Sci-fi? I GOT YOU. Fantasy? Yes! Sports fiction? It might take me a second but I’ll find you a book. Nonfiction? I’m zero help in that category, honestly. The point of the matter is that you’re never going to enjoy a book if you aren’t interested in the underlying topics.

QUESTION: do you ever find yourself comparing your life to fictional life?

Yes. All the time. I daydream about being apart of the Inner Circle and living in Terrasen with Aelin and Rowan. I think about what it would be like to have real powers and a mate. It drives my boyfriend crazy—but he loves me anyway.

QUESTION: what are your most anticipated books of 2021?

Here’s a list:

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

The Crown of Gilded Bones by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Gods and Monsters by Shelby Mahurin

Crescent City 2 (Untitled) by Sarah J. Maas

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer (I just ordered this one & it arrives tomorrow)

Blessed Monsters by Emily A. Duncan

QUESTION: why did you start a Tumblr?

Honestly, I used to love tumblr when I was in grade school (way too young to be on here then but what else is new). I like having an extra space to get my questions and comments out without having to compress it into a 60 second video for TikTok to see. Tumblr is a good place to blog & post things like this.

QUESTION: what’s your favorite song right now?

I’ve listened to Carry You by Novo Amor every day for the past two months and I cry each time.

QUESTION: why write Harry Styles fan fiction?

Simple: I love Harry Styles. I’ve been a fan of him and One Direction since they were on X FACTOR. Read that again. X. Factor. I used to watch their performances on YouTube before WMYB even came out. Of course, I love all of the 1D boys but I was always a Harry gal. And I look up to him in a way—I’ve read things about people wishing they knew him personally and honestly? I would never want to meet him. I like the version of him I’ve cooked up in my brain over the past 10 years. I like the symbiotic relationship I have with his music. Fine Line is a ✨masterpiece✨. HS1 is a ✨work of art✨.

now, some topics I’ve been asked way too many times and want to finally get to:

QUESTION: political views?

the saying “anyone but trump” has been in my brain for the past four years. No, I’m not a republican. No, I’m not a democrat. I like to think of myself as a progressive (ahem, liberal) Did I vote for a democratic candidate? Yes, and I’d do it again and again until the US isn’t one of the worst countries—I’m sorry, businesses— to be apart of. I wanted Bernie but got Biden, and I’m alright with that. And my girl Kamala🥳

QUESTION: how did you feel about the BLM protests?

I went to multiple BLM protests and donated a lot of funds to BLM & other organizations. It’s 2021, people... stop being fucking RACIST. And don’t be afraid to call racist people out! Black Lives Matter, even if no one is posting about it anymore.

QUESTION: thoughts on abortion?

your body your choice, queen! not my uterus, not my problem.

QUESTION: there was a comment on an old video of yours talking about r*pe, why did you delete the comment?

I made a video when I first started my account on TikTok about reading in public and feeling “turned on” by it. Go watch it if you don’t know what I’m talking about. BUT, some ignorant male decided to comment and say “this is how girls get r*ped”. Whew. So. I deleted the comment because ....

I am a victim of sexual assault. Along with a lot of other women. 1 in 5 women have been victims of sexual assault. Talking about being r*ped isn’t funny.

No one else needed to see his comment. I reported it immediately and his account was shut down.

I never got justice for what happened to me, and the fact that some random male—who had never even met me or seen me before my video showed up on his FYP—had the nerve to comment that? Unacceptable.

this question isn’t as controversial but

QUESTION: what’s the best way to get out of a toxic relationship?

okay, let me just start off by saying that the people around you who love and support you are going to be your backbone. Leaving a toxic situation is hard, and every situation is different, but my best piece of advice to offer you is don’t be afraid to ask for help. Your loved ones are going to be there for you when you need them, even if you don’t believe they will. If you explain what’s happening, someone you know and love will drop whatever it is their doing to make sure you get out safely. good luck my babes.

now, back to our regularly scheduled program:

QUESTION: any tips on making tiktoks?

Literally none. I post what I think is funny and relatable and if anyone agrees, I’m satisfied. Even if it’s one view, it’s good enough for me. So I guess my one tip is to not base your life off of an app and followers.

QUESTION: favorite Harry Styles fanfic?

DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE. Duplicity is up there, along with Stall 1&2, and Kiwi. After? Absolutely not.

QUESTION: favorite WEBTOON?

y’all already KNOW. LORE OLYMPUS BY USEDBANDAID. Rachel is a genius and I have reread the series a million times. Hades is my soulmate and Apollo can rot in the fiery pits of the Underworld. also, if we’re talking about other webcomics, reading Walk on Water on mangadex...🤫

QUESTION: favorite movie?

Howls Moving Castle. I will be getting my “a heart is a heavy burden” tattoo very very soon.

QUESTION: I read your Elain theory on tumblr, can you explain a little more?

I thought I was pretty straightforward but I’ll say it again: she is always the “good” one and it’s too suspicious. SJM has already given one Archeron sister a happy ending, Nesta’s is obviously inevitable, but Elain? She has too many options for a happy ending. Lucien, who is her “mate”. Azriel, who is intrigued by her slightly. Her human guy—I don’t remember his name—who is disgusted that she’s not human anymore. Or, alone, planting flowers all day. BUT! My point is that she’s not truly happy. She was forced into the Cauldron just like Nesta. She was ripped away from the life she loved so dearly and didn’t want to give up. The man she was going to marry now hates her guts because she’s a High Fae. She has the perfect set up for a villain plot line and I’m all here for it.

well, that’s all I feel like doing tonight. hope you enjoyed my little q&a! be kind, and talk to you later! byeeee!

#a court of silver flames #acotar #harry styles #one direction #sarah j maas #throne of glass #wattpad #tiktok #elain archeron #howls moving castle #lore olympus #q&a time #walk on water #persephone #lore olympus hades

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kandadiff · 3 years

Text

Runnin' with the Devil 1

You watched your husband from your place on the couch and pulled your legs into your body in an attempt to warm them, your mind wandering to just a year ago. Where you were in the warm arms of Jay Park, spoiled with champagne and as much sweet things as you could fill yourself with. But now . 'Nothing like how it used to be,' You thought. You missed Jay, he made you laugh, not that you did much of that these days. How could you? When you were in the same house with your biggest enemy?

Your eyes wandered over to the massive ring that stood out on your finger, making your hand look even smaller then it already was. The huge diamond complimented by the other diamonds that rounded the rock, gold encasing their holding and a small red dragon engraved within the main diamond. It was no mistake what this ring truly symbolized. You belonged to him now, The Red Dragons and the Kwon Family.

Your mind floated to when the Red Dragon rescued you from the Brotherhood. You were with Jay on his arm at one of his lavish parties that he threw every year to keep the peace between the families that ran the state. Except instead of the night being filled with the sound of laughter from to much drinks and music from the DJ, it was swollen with blood and gun shots. At first it was Jay that grabbed you when he heard the first gun shot ring out into the air made by some hired man. He pushed you to his second in command, Jackson, and you were with Jackson for a long time until a bullet went through his chest and your face became streaked red. Another Brotherhood member, Chan Bang, grabbed you and seemed to bring you toward the masked intruders who in shock all you could do was watch as they shot down people like it was a sport. Most of them laughing as they did so. You fought against Chan, but maybe it was the excessive alcohol your drank that made you unable to get out of his iron grip or the fear of being next. One of Chan's close friends, Hyungjin brought Min and Suzy, a short bubbly girl and a baby faced angel of a girl who were dating another brotherhood member, and you watched as the masked man shoot both of them point blank as they begged for there life before he pointed the gun at you.

yA pop rang out in the air and instead of you going into the pile of bodies with Min and Suzy, it was the masked man. POP! Another one shot down Chan, you came loose from his grip as he fell into the piles. However before you could run the shooter grabbed you. "Let's go!" his voice was rough but his touch was gentle yet urgent. He led you through the ballroom avoiding the gunshots with skill, as though he was trained for this his entire life. You knew who he was, everyone did. Jiyong Kwon, son of YoungHwan Kwon leader of the Red Dragon's and next to take over. Once you were outside he rushed you into a car and drove as fast as he can while cops sped past him heading to the bloody scene which would later be called THE BALLROOM MASSACRE.

He brought you back to his lavish penthouse and brought a doctor (thats how you reconnected with me) to check on you and him. Physically, you were unhurt minus a few scratches but mentally- you were not. He suggested you stay with him for a few days until everything cooled down. And during that time, the news of the event, soiled your mind more and more everyday as more and more bodies were counted as dead. People you knew, people who you laughed with, cried with, loved. Gone. No news of what happened to Jay - you presumed he was dead. Only seeing Jackson on the TV, beat up and on crutches. Through all that Jiyong was there for you, one drunken night bringing you close, spilling secrets to each other with the only witness the fire that burned in the fireplace as you drank. Those few days turned into months and soon you found yourself in love with the man especially when he drafted another peace treaty with the other mafia families and excited those who killed at the Ballroom Massacre.

Which is how you ended up with two children babbling upstairs. You aren't sure how you became pregnant - not at first at least. You were careful or at least you thought you were. You used condoms, even had an IUD. But one day you were feeling nauseous and bloated and tender and he suggested going to the doctor. He made me come to the house and take blood, a few minutes later you found you were pregnant. And though Jiyong tried to hide it, we argued or were cold with each other every time we saw each other. 7 months later you gave birth to Anastasia Min-Lee Kwon and Apollo Taehyun Kwon and you were married at a huge ceremony in the city that was more protected then the royal family. But like all good things, that too must come to an end and thats when your life, which seemed to be going to well fell apart in your hands.

"About" stomach turned as you thought about that day only a week and a half ago. You sat in my house, a smaller less extravagant house then yours however the garden that surrounded it was a perfect place to sit. A gazebo gifted to us by Jiyong after I helped you after the massacre, is where we sat. Eating at the small table watching while, Marceline and Salem played with the babies, your nannies enjoying that they are getting a quick break in this picturesque area.

You smiled hearing the sound of your babies laughing, happy to hear it without your father in law interrupting the noise, you were about to comment on it when I interrupted your thoughts. "I wish I could have protected them better." Your eyebrow raised at the serious of my tone but before you could ask I spoke again "with Marcie mostly," I clarified "Salem - he doesn't know all that Marceline knows." I hadn't really gotten into what happened in the past before I showed up back in this town. But I left with a man named Negan and came back with a little girl and a friendship with Mr. YoungHwan Kwon and a body guard only known to you as Suga.

You weren't sure what to say so you said "We do all we can, you know. You're a good mother." You looked at me concerned seeing something clearly on my mind. "Whats wrong?"

"I'm sorry, adi." Confused you just looked at me waiting for me to explain. "I wished I could have protected you too."

Your mind flicked to the bloody mess of that night and you shook your head, in an attempt to stop thinking about it. "You couldn't have known, you weren't even there."

"I wished that I could have protected you from Jiyong," I said and your mind swirled in even more confusion. "I should have warned you when he took you from Jay. But I didn't want to believe he would do that- I was so stupid. Yoongi told me but I didn't believe him. Then when you got pregnant- Yoongi and me were trying to have Sunday. He was so happy when he first held him, I don't think ive ever seen him happier. The smile didn't leave his face for weeks and even now every time he speaks about the kids his face still lights up the same way it did all those years ago. He even tattooed there names on his chest, that was the first thing he did out of the hospital. I saw the same thing in Taeyang when he had his son, and in Bom and her husband; just pure unfiltered joy." You raised an eyebrow about to ask what that had to do with anything when I looked at you. "When I Jiyong told me you were pregnant, that look - wasn't there. It was something else; something darker, like he had just accomplished his master plan. Then I remembered you told me you had an IUD and you wore condoms. So after I took your blood, I went into your bedroom and searched until I found the condoms and went to the sink. I filled all of them with water and each one had holes in it. I told Yoongi about it and he questioned the other doctor on Jiyong's payroll - after about an hour with Yoongi he admitted to drugging your wine and taking it out."

Your heart sunk, no, your husband wouldn't do that to you. I was mistaken - it had to be some kind of joke. You shook your head but I nodded.

"Its true." I said "and he found out I knew, thats when you caught us arguing. He knew after getting you knocked up, you'd marry him. He pretended he was the perfect husband so why wouldn't you?" You looked down at your ring instantly feeling nauseous.

"Why didn't you say something?!" you shouted bitterly catching the attention of the nannies. I waved at them to continue and told you to stay quiet. "Why should I?!"

"Because he's listening." I said motioning to the ladies. One of them carried a small device pinned to her chest, it was supposed to be just a pin but I knew what they were. A little transmitter like Negan used to use.

You're heart beat fast in your chest and you forced yourself to be quieter. "why didn't you tell me?" I motioned once again to the kids. "Oh please, Jiyong wouldn't kill kids." I sighed and unfolded a small series of pictures. There you saw pictures - candid shots of mine and Yoongi's small family, shopping, eating, taking them to school along with a phone number written in Jiyong's district handwriting along with the words 'Keep my secret and ill keep yours'. "What does this mean? who's phone number is this?"

"Negan's." I said simply and before you can ask why can't he know I stopped you. "I didn't just leave Negan. I escaped from him, he wouldn't let me leave and he killed everyone who tried to help me or talk to me. His entire fucking compound is decorated with the body parts of people I used to be friends with. He wanted me to rely on him and only him. He wouldn't even let me out with Marcie without him. When I left he told me he'd kill Marceline in front of me if I didn't come back to him. For the next week he killed a woman every single day, just cause they sort of looked like me. The day I got out of that town he killed a woman and her son because he thought it was me and Marcie in disguise, the little boy was only 4 years old and he shot him in front of his mother and strung her up on a tree in the park. Imagine what he would do to them" I looked at the laughing children, "or Yoongi, I know if I ever see Negan again I'm dead but I'm not going to let him find out about anyone else."

For a while you were silent, sitting in the news that shattered your view of your once perfect family. "Why now?" You asked after a while.

"We're leaving - it's the only safe option and I want you to come with us. Take your children and come with us. You aren't safe there." I said and you let out a shaky sigh "Yoongi is the best at disappearing; we'll be untraceable." You heard the nannies in the distance telling the kids its time to go inside and I stood up. You eyes wandered to the children running towards you while the nannies, wheeled the baby carriages over towards us.

"Mommy!" Marceline shouted holding up a handful of flowers "Look!" The nannies approached at a quick speed, to quick for your liking; if you were going to meet me, how were your going to know where?

"Look like its time to go Mrs. Kwon" one of them said to you "Mr. Kwon is calling."

"Good;" I smiled acting as though I didn't drop that bomb on you. "Have a good trip home," I lifted your twins out of there carriage and kissed each on the cheek. "say goodbye to your aunt." My children wrapped there small arms around your legs shoving flowers into your hands and pockets, causing you to laugh and hug each of them. I hugged you tight and picked up a flower that fell from your pocket and put it in your hand where you felt the soft piece of paper wrapped smoothly around the stem. "I hope to see you soon."

Now a week and a half later you still had the piece of paper buried in the small flap under the felt of your jewelry box watching as Jiyong laughed with TOP at a show they were both watching wondering how your life got so fucked up.

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soldrawss · 4 years

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Ares kids giving percy shit and then they just see... luke... standing in the background... staring at them... and they suddenly decide to leave percy alone, because they 'just FEEL LIKE IT, oKAY???' jhgfgdhfdhggfjghg

Despite what everyone else thinks, Luke is always angry. He just also happens to be really good at hiding it. He probably had his dad to thank for that, being able to redirect and reassure others with a flash of a smile and a wave of his hand to disarm anyone who’d think otherwise. He hardly ever lets his temper get the best of him anymore. He’s too old for that. Too tired to let the little things get under his skin and leave bruises that the world could see. He can’t afford to wear his anger out like tattooed sleeves, the same way Silena Beauregard wore compassion on hers.

And it would be too easy. Too easy to just let his anger for the world and for the gods fuel and feed the hurt bleeding into his rationality and blaming all his problems on everything other than himself. It would be way too fucking easy to go about his days in a blinding rage that left nothing but empty holes in the places that should have held love and forgiveness and all the good he tries so desperately to instill in the younger campers. It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t help the hurt and it wouldn’t end the suffering. Luke knew this. Luke knew the world didn’t need one more angry, unwanted kid adding that kind of gasoline into the fire. Kronos was wrong, even if his tempted whispers late at night tried so hard to convince him otherwise.

So he hides his anger. Buries it under daily counselor chores and making sure the Stoll brothers don’t get too rowdy during their free time and just keeps busy enough to ignore the pounding tremor in the back of his chest. It works for the most part. It’s easier to smile nowadays, he barely even has to force it anymore, and when he laughs along to campfire stories and songs, it’s something lighthearted and genuine.

But his anger is always right there, like it’s something second hand and lingering. There without him having to reach for it.

And when he notices Percy get dragged behind the armory by the scruff of his neck by some older kids, he lets that all too familiar anger consume him in seconds. He pushes away from the handful of campers he was monitoring by the amphitheater, ‘Activity’s over. You have free break until lunch’, he calls over his shoulder, and doesn’t wait for a response as he marches his way in the direction of the armory with a speed Hermes would probably be proud of if he ever cared enough to check-in.

Luke doesn’t have special skills or powers like other Demigods. He can’t build things like Beckendorf and he can’t charm speak like Silena and he certainly can’t summon lightning from the heavens like Thalia could. But he was respected and feared in equal measure all the same, and no one could deny that he worked hard to earn the title of the best swordsman in camp.

His was still a presence that demanded attention and authority. Even if he lets the seven-year-old from the Haphestus cabin ride on his shoulders after breakfast most mornings, or moves over on his already tiny bunk in the dead of night so that little unclaimed Lily Anderson can sleep with him after a bad nightmare.

He was a self-designated older brother to pretty much anyone who needed one, and Luke took a quiet sort of pride to that so many people liked and needed him.

But he was still a threat when he wanted to be.So when he saw Percy on the ground, with a nose bleed that stained the front of his shirt an awful rusty color, all Luke had to do was growl a low, ‘walk away. Now’, and the three boys took off at a sprint. He only vaguely recognized two of them from the Ares cabin and one from Aphrodite, but he didn’t care enough to do more with the information at the moment because Percy was staring up at him with green eyes electric and burning.

And Luke recognizes those kinds of eyes. They’re the same as his. There's a light like dying stars in them. Angry and terrified and burning with something terrible and so full of single-minded devotion that it has to hurt. And it leaves something aching and red hot in Luke’s stomach when he takes a step forward only for Percy to flinch away out of reflex.

“I’m fine,” Percy said like a knee jerk reaction before Luke could even ask, barking it in a mean and biting way that Luke didn’t take any offense to because he remembers what if felt like to be twelve and have your pride hurt. So Luke doesn’t question it, because Percy is scrappier and stronger than anyone probably ever gave him credit for, and offers a silent hand and the gentlest smile he can muster. Luke does his best to ignore the thumping jolt of anger that vibrates through him when Percy takes it almost immediately and so desperately, like it’s his only lifeline in the world, and wonders what kind of people were in Percy’s life before camp that made him so hungry for a positive human connection.

Percy apologizes a second later with a horrified expression, jumping out of reach when he notices he got blood on Luke’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Let's just get you to the Apollo cabin. Lee keeps a first aid kit and a jar of ambrosia superglued to him at all times after Cecil Markowitz’s third greek fire burn.” The comment was supposed to lighten the mood somewhat, but Percy’s face darkens as he takes a step back from Luke.

“Um, no thanks,” Percy says in almost a pained whisper, hugging his middle and trying to wipe the continuous flow of blood from running down his chin by holding his head back. “It smells too much like the infirmary in there. And I hate the way ambrosia burns down my throat. I’m good, Luke, really.”

And that should have tipped Luke off to some bigger problem, but he can’t concentrate on it because he’s already closing the distance between them faster than Percy could object, and softly pushing the back of Percy’s head down towards the ground. “Pinch here, just above your nostrils, and lean forward unless you want the blood to go down your throat.” He instructs, guiding Percy’s bloodied hand to his nose.

Luke can’t rightly blame Percy for his hesitance. The kid’s first moments of conscious grief since his new life as a half-blood began was spent in the camp infirmary, nursing the pain of losing his mom while also nursing actual physical wounds with acidic nectar and ambrosia that even Luke can attest to growing disgust for after the first few battle wounds of his own. Anyone would have some kind of underlying trauma from that, and Percy didn’t have to outwardly admit how uncomfortable he was at the idea for Luke to understand.

Being a 12-year-old without a mom was hard enough. The problems of a half-blood added on top of that was almost a cruel joke that Luke bitterly couldn’t believe was a reality for most the kids at camp.

“Annabeth used to get into a lot of fights too, I’ve gotten pretty used to fixing noses the old fashioned way. Come on, I have a spare medkit in the combat arena,” Luke says, pressing a hand to Percy’s back, not giving him a chance to escape because dammit, someone had to care for this kid. And Percy doesn’t smile, but something in those sharp green eyes turn leaf like and muted as he lets himself get led from out from behind the armory.

No one really bats an eye towards Percy as they walked, and Luke could only assume it’s because he looks like he’s about to kill anyone that tried with a stone-cold glare that could rival Medusa’s.

No one was is in the arena when they get there, and Luke instructs Percy to keep the cold washcloth Luke had snagged for him on his nose for about ten minutes, keeping upright to help stop the bleeding. They don’t say anything after that, they just sit on the arena steps and watch the campers from the Demeter cabin try to flip the canoes of some Aphrodite kids with little success, while they wait.

Luke doesn’t ask any questions on what happened or why, he feels like the answer wouldn’t matter anyway, but Percy eventually softens in the silence between them. Luke pretends he doesn’t notice Percy’s eyes get red and wet as he rubs at them angrily with the palm of his hand.

After about fifteen minutes, and a fresh camp shirt that Luke had given him to replace Percy’s stained one, Percy looked no worse for wear, at least.

“Thanks,” he says softly, like he was thanking Luke for a million things at once, and Luke was all too aware of the crack in his voice and the angry hunch of his shoulders that made him look whole years to young to be angry at the world.

“Don’t thank me just yet, I need your help with something,” Luke decides as he stands up and walks back into arena, not looking back to see if Percy is following him because he knows he is.

“Alright,” he says once they make it to the middle of the dusty pit, holding his hands out in front of his chest and adjusting his stance as Percy looks at him with a doe-eyed curiosity and confusion. “Come at me with all you got.”

Percy frowns, and sniffs once before rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “What? Dude I already got my butt handed to me, I don’t need another nose bleed on top of a few broken bones.”

Luke can’t help but smile at that. “Come on, humor me. I have a few unchecked microaggressions I need to work out and you owe me. I promise I won’t aim for your nose.”

Percy frown deepens, but he sighs like the whole world is weighted on in and gets into a fighting stance of his own, keeping his fists close to his chest.

Now it was Luke’s turn to frown. “Aww dude, you’re breaking my heart here.”

He relaxes his stance and walks over to where Percy stood, dodging the lame attempt of a punch and catching Percy’s fist in the palm of his hand, readjusting Percy’s fingers. “Thumb goes here unless you want to break it. And you wanna keep your fists closer to bottom of your chin.”

Luke uses his own foot to shift Percy’s into a more stable stance. “Feet this far apart and bend your knees, or you’re gonna get knocked down no matter what happens. Try to punch me again.”

Frowning more out of concentration then confusion, Percy took another swing that Luke caught easily and without letting go, pulled it back towards Percy’s shoulder and used his other hand to straighten Percy’s back. “Use these muscles here and punch straight out. You keep swinging too wide and putting all your force behind it, leaving you open.”

He guided Percy’s hand with his own, twisting it slowly in the form of a punch. “You’re gonna feel the bones in your arm want to move this way. Let them and you’ll get more force out of it.”

Percy hummed something like acknowledgment, so Luke let go and retook his stance in front of Percy, mimicking his same posture from before. “Try it again.”

Luke still caught Percy’s fist in his own, but a smile broke his face in two when he, not unkindly, pushed Percy back aways. “A couple more hits like that, and my hand may actually start to hurt, Jackson.”

And the grin that crept upon the twelve-year-olds face was something bright and delighted and outshining the stars as easy as breathing, and Luke soaked in every inch as they continued for the better half of the morning sparing till the lunch horn sounded.

Percy was so much like a younger Luke that is actually scared him, but moments like this, where he knew practical methods of defense would help Percy better than any reassurance that bullies would eventually leave him alone ever could. And Luke knew that Percy wouldn’t be ok with anyone fighting his battles for him, even if it would have been so easy for Luke to channel some of that unchecked rage into beating the ever-living snot out of anyone who looked sideways at Percy again. Just like he knew that Percy wouldn’t ask for help if it wasn’t already freely giving, or that trust was a hard thing to earn when your whole life was built around people burning that bridge before you could ever extend it.

But Luke was prepared for the challenge, and with Percy chatting happily away from underneath where Luke rested his arm across his shoulders as they made their way to the dining Pavillion, Luke could feel the edges of his anger slowly quiet into something barely there. And it’s a feeling that carries him throughout the rest of the day. A feeling that he wants to bottle up and keep on a shelf whenever he wants to forget what hating the world feels like.

Because if it feels like it’s worth it just to keep kids like Percy smiling for the rest of forever, well then, Luke could handle forgiving some of his anger, and letting his heart rest on his sleeves just a little bit more.

#oh no he's 12 au #thats the name of this big brother luke au i'm creating #oh man i didn't mean to go on a big tangent but here we are folks #pjo #percy jackson #luke castellan #riordan #i have so many feelings on these two please ask me about them #thanks alex for getting me too hyped up now my home will know no rest

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Sunny Side Up

For my baby @kiwi--bot ! It’s a lil late Valentine’s gift of our Destiny ocs :D

Summary: Honey knows Apollo, she’s so sure of it. She knows that voice, she knows their eyes, she knows their warmth. Yet Apollo strains away, seeming to toy with her it feels like- a possible misunderstanding that can be solved with a bit of sunshine and conversation.

Fandom: Destiny 2

Relationship: Honey (Oc)/Apollo (Oc)

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort-esque situation, soulmates, mentions/hint of Apollo getting frisky with people but nothing explicit

Words: 3k

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Apollo was damaged.

That much Honey understood. She’d worked with Exos near all her life, working alongside Banshee in her own shop- she knew the first signs of memory loss and corrupted internal workings. Of course, Exos were just as alive as she was, just as alive as an Awoken, just as alive and breathing as anyone else. Honey had taken to putting sticky notes up for Banshee to ensure he remembered things, jotting notes down and helpfully reminding him whenever she’d pass by.

Apollo? Apollo had been different than just reminding them of things. They seemed attached at the hip to Honey, not that she really minded, company was fine in her book. And having someone so chatty to fill the quiet air while she worked on her mods was rather nice. Especially looking over and seeing them sat up on one of the counters, swinging their legs in their expensive outfits and happily chatting of a story she’d already heard once or twice.

They were flirty, that wasn’t missed by Honey. How their hands would slide into Honey’s curly hair to absentmindedly push it behind her pierced ears, or they’d take her hands and bounce up and down in excitement about buying her new things. Or how sometimes they’d stand a bit too close, not quite looming despite their tall height, but being close enough it made Honey’s cheeks flush beneath the dark grease when she was working.

But. Honey was no fool.

~Rest under the cut~

Apollo flirted quite openly with anyone they found attractive. Hook ups that Honey got to hear of as they happily chatted and swung their legs and Honey could feel the ugly sharp fangs of jealousy enclose around her heart. “That’s nice, sugar.” She’d say while torching a piece of metal and thanking that her blast shield was down to hide her furrowed brows.

Love was...absent from Honey’s life. Getting her heart broken wasn’t on her To Do list. Oswald, her beloved ghost- may the light bless him always- was her companion. When she’d go to sleep, Oswald was right next to her on her nightstand on his own specially made pillow. Often times she’d fall asleep with her hand curled around him lightly, as if afraid he would ever leave her in the night.

Honey didn’t quite tend to take the hints from people if they did like her, and when she did, when she finally gave it a shot, there was always complaints. She worked too much, she didn’t spend enough time with them, she was out on missions, how come she always followed Cayde’s orders to a T? And then the worst was when he...when he passed. A person she’d been seeing at the time had brought up how she had no right to be grieving that long.

So now. Love was absent from Honey’s life. No one ever fit, no one clicked quite that well with her, and she started to believe that her need to work hard would always get in the way of any sort of relationship. So, she didn’t. Happy to just be with Oswald and surrounded by her plants and get up and go be a Guardian where she was needed to lead.

And yet. Apollo was always there. Even if Honey said she was busy, they’d happily twirl in their cute new expensive cloak, “Don’t be silly!!!! I’ll come sit with you- I HAVE to show you all my new cute outfits! Look at this one already!” And they’d follow her, working with her schedule just to spend time with her.

Boreas, Apollo’s ghost and glorified babysitter- according to him- took quite nicely to Oswald in turn. Allowing them both to mingle off to the side. Although Honey is pretty sure Oswald has a crush on the poor ghost, often times hearing the quick shushing of Boreas and Oswald’s soft, whispery laugh.

Honey had awoken in this life with a mission in her heart she never understood. This frantic feeling and whispering in her body of ‘Where are they?!’. All her life she thought this was her need to keep Oswald beside her. And now when she looked at Apollo, she wasn’t...so sure.

They shouldn’t have crossed her mind as a potential romantic partner. They were everything she was not. Loud, excitable, always wanting to shop and never having to work. Able to flirt and go out. But ever since she’d found them with Calus, it’s like she knew them. Anytime they said her name, it was like her first time hearing it be said. When they chirped their various pet names for her like calling her a flower, how if anyone else were to say those things to Honey, she’d brush them off.

And then just last week, what was putting Honey through all this turmoil, was Apollo showing her a symbol they drew. Explaining fondly that they’d always dreamt of this symbol and that they thought it was pretty. Going so far as to pull their choker from Calus aside to reveal the symbol of a sun on their upper chest.

The exact. Same. Symbol. That Honey had woken up tattooed with on her upper spine.

The same sun. The same pattern. The same one that Honey saw whenever she’d try to dig up research on her old life, assuming it had just been associated with her tattoo. And then she was looking at the exact same shape on Apollo’s chest.

It could have been coincidence, Honey tried to tell herself that day, only offering a few words. It could have been coincidence; She tries to tell herself as she desperately searched through her numerous journals that night of what she’d written down of her findings. Staring at her underlined notes with question marks when she’d found words hinting that she was married to someone in her old life. All the curious articles implying she’d been married to someone just like Apollo.

Apollo liked her, that much Honey understood. Apollo flirted with her just as much as anyone else, but then would go in seek of someone else to have a fling with. Something that always hurt Honey quietly.

And they couldn’t have known- could they? What if Honey was just hopeful? What if her findings weren’t entirely accurate? But a remark from Oswald confirms that she had always triple checked her findings. But if- if Apollo WAS that person she’d been married to- that was the past. That was the past, she’s sure tons of other people walking around had been married in the past and just didn’t know.

Night after night of trying to explain these thoughts to herself, tearing herself apart over it and Oswald pressing his shell to her cheek fondly as she’d let tears spill down her face. Soulmates were just a concept; They were Guardians for goodness sake! She just wanted to know her past for herself. And yet...

Now she’s looking at Apollo twirling their long cloak in their fingers and leaning on a wall as they giggle at some cute titan. Honey has seen this song and dance before, where Apollo bats their pretty eyes and talks someone into something. She’s seen it after they’d tried it on her, where it made her feel like she was just going to be another fling, another story in their book.

It hurt.

It hurt for Apollo to flirt with her, to convince her to go out with them for a few hours of relaxation from work. It hurt for Apollo to flirt, to make her chest flutter, only for them to turn back around and act like it never happened. It hurt, it hurt to be so confused of her own emotions and to have them play with her like that.

They didn’t mean to, that much Honey is sure of. They were forgetful and clearly trying to hide from something in their own mind. They maybe were using handsome and pretty Guardians around to leave those feelings behind. But were they honest with Honey? Was she something they considered special like they said, or was she just someone they wanted to fuck?

Honey doesn’t realize she’d been staring until Apollo’s violet gaze turns to her and she sees them light right up, watching as they totally ignore the titan who was clearly into them as Apollo comes skipping towards her. “There you are, fire flower!!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What were you doin’ in your room for so long, huh? You have guests over?”

It’s spoken with a smile, but even Honey can see the way Apollo asks that question. It’s insinuating something, something that makes Honey glance back over to that titan Apollo just abandoned just to wrap their arms around her arm and speak so excitedly. How Apollo would leave anyone just to come chat with Honey, to wrap around her and gleefully talk about their day.

Were they lonely just like her? Did they feel the same but instead of hiding, they sought company of others out? Was...Was Honey just hopeful?

“We need to talk.” Comes spilling from Honey’s lips in a breath before she can even ponder her worries any longer. Almost regretting it the second it passes her lips and Apollo seems to pause. They normally don’t pick up on serious hints, but maybe those words strike something in them, feeling the familiar fidgeting on her arm.

But before Honey can swallow down her pride and retract on her statement, Apollo oh so cheerily agrees and starts walking with her towards her workshop. Once inside, it’s quiet for once as Apollo releases her to stand closeby, fidgeting with their cloak and a tic forcing them to do a quick jerk of their head in a little shake before they pipe up. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” Honey answers quickly, a heavy sigh falling from her lips as she takes a few steps back to rest her lower back on one of her countertops. A hand runs through her curly white bangs, her fingers brushing her bandana tied around her head to hold her puff in place. Her honey golden gaze lifts to look at Apollo staring intently at her, and she feels her heart twist at their soft expression. “No, sugar, ya’ haven’t done a thing wrong.”

Honey must look distressed, her eyebrows knitting and her hand resting on her forehead as her eyes close and she tries to focus on all this information she’s learned. How her feelings for Apollo weren’t just looking at them and thinking they were pretty, but the high sense of longing. That high sense of ‘I found you’ finally coursing through her veins. Did they feel the same? Was she just another thing to flirt with?

Hands rest gingerly on her waist and make Honey hum soft in her throat in a way that makes her throat feel heavy when she swallows. Apollo was rather physical, always touching, and now it hurt even worse to feel them trying to comfort her without invading her space too much. “Honey...?”

The way they murmur her name, their voice box wavering in a way she’d never heard. They were always so cheery, to hear them sound like that just because of her-

A tightening of her already closed eyes forces the tears to spill down her round cheeks. Her throat is tight as the words ache to spill out but all she can manage is her full lips parting, only for them to quiver as she shuts them again. When was the last time she had cried? She couldn’t remember- Oswald always insisted it would make her feel better. One too many times of going ‘I’m fine’ and sucking it up.

“I can’t do this, Apollo,” She finally breathes out, her hand falling from her forehead to wipe at her tears before her eyes open to look up at them. Their violet optics make her heart pound with how gently they look at her, confusion on their features as her fingers wrap lightly around their wrists where they hold her waist. “I can’t take not knowin’ if you’re playin’ with me. If ya think I’m just some fun toy o-or-”

Honey’s voice quivers when their eyes meet, swallowing harshly as she tries to figure out her words correctly. Emotions always got the better of people, no longer allowing rational thought. She was no stranger to natural human emotion. “What is it ya want? Ya have everythin’ ya could ever desire, ya have playmates for days, ya have Calus under ya thumb.”

Apollo’s head tilts in that cute little way they always do, furthering Honey’s distraught emotions. They look so confused looking over her face, their hands lightly squeezing her waist and one coming up to brush the new tears from her cheeks. “I want you, silly! Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” They just sound so honest, only furthering Honey’s frustration.

“Ya say that an’ then go off an’ come back tellin’ me stories of how ya got friendly with someone else. I like you, Apollo, but I’m not some one-night stand o-or toy, I ain’t gonna be someone you just toss aside-” Fresh tears spill down Honey’s cheeks without her wanting them there, feeling ridiculous for crying about a person of all things. But all the information she found out- her feelings, that feeling of ‘I found you’, even now coursing through her in hot waves when they touch her.

Apollo is quiet as their hand cups Honey’s cheek, stroking their thumb across it to wipe her tears, and Honey is helpless but to lean into their grasp. Her own hands shake as they hold weakly to their wrists, unsure whether to push them away or draw them closer as she gathers her breath and her thoughts.

“I messed up didn’t I?” Comes so softly from Apollo that it seizes Honey’s heart. She goes to say something, to calm them, to ensure they don’t fall into another episode, but Apollo continues with something that makes Honey’s eyes shoot open and up to look at them. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew...what?”

“That you’re mine, silly,” Apollo says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. They cock their head again, a twitch in their shoulder when Honey looks at them with what must be a surprised look. “Uhm- I think like. We are- or, were, together at some point? I mean, I don’t think, I know, but I thought you felt the same and I thought you were trying to take it slow-”

“What did you just say?” Honey breathes out, cutting them off as her eyes flicker back and forth between theirs, reaching up to cup their cheeks almost frantically as Apollo’s eyes light up in surprise.

“You were taking it slow?”

“No- no, no, we were together at some point- what do you mean by that?”

“Oh! When I first saw you when we were with Daddy! I knew who you were! I don’t remember things very good,” They pause there to kind of giggle, as if their own memory troubles could be funny to themself. “But I remember you! Or, well, another version of you! I thought you just wanted to take it slow, but I kinda still wanted to, ya know, have sex! So I didn’t wanna pressure you and tada here we are!”

Just like that, they’re back to chipper, only to pause again when they see Honey’s look on her face as if recognition crosses her features. Apollo seems to pout, not having the mouth to do so, but they still try. “Oh, boo! Did I make you upset again?”

Honey chokes out a laugh through her tears, dropping her hands to their shoulder to press her forehead against their chest with this loud feeling of relief coursing through her. And confusion- recognition? Oh, she couldn’t understand her own emotions. ‘I found you’ rings in her head again, surrounded by glowing hot light in the form of a celestial outline of a sun. Her sun-

Their sun.

It’s like their light twirled together in a stream of intricate ribbons that drew them back to each other. And it all makes sense now- the news articles she had seen and read. She’d been married in her old life, to someone she only saw clippings off. Someone who was dressed in the most beautiful of outfits, intricate rings along their nose connecting to their ear, beautiful gauzy hoods, beautiful saris. The face always blurred out or almost burned out.

Honey doesn’t realize she’s crying until Apollo’s arms finally slip around her waist to hug her tight. Something Honey did when Apollo became overwhelmed and incoherent. So many questions ring in her mind, but all leading back to the curiosity Apollo mentioned.

They wanted intimacy with other people because she wanted to go slow- they wanted physical touch, that much Honey understood with how touchy they were. They were never good at wording things quite right, so even Honey understood they didn’t mean they were upset she wasn’t ‘putting out’ so to speak. They just wanted to be physical. Honey couldn’t help but feel the same way.

When the hug is parted and things have settled down, Honey offers for them to sit down and talk about where they want to go from here. They both agree for a relationship, Apollo about near bouncing out of their seat until Honey sets her hand gently on theirs to soothe them. Honey gently mentions that she doesn’t mind Apollo seeing other people, but maybe when she’s a bit more comfortable with them so they can talk more about terms.

It’s the first time Apollo is allowed to stay the night. With the sun carving on their upper chest fitting perfectly against Honey’s upper back sun tattoo when they press together with Honey wrapped in their arms. Finally able to get her first wink of restful sleep.

Honey was just as damaged as Apollo was.

But, together?

They could become whole.

#Honey x Apollo #Honey (Oc)#Apollo (Oc)#Destiny #Destiny 2 #Destiny ocs #Ocs #princess writing

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pls-let-me-out · 4 years

Text

YOUNG GODS

chapter 1: warmth

words count: 4909

you can also find this on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933858/chapters/63034189

Time goes by differently in the upper world.

When he was younger, Nico used to spend much more time there. Only when the blinding light of the sun caresses his face, he realizes that he hasn’t seen Hazel in many years. Is she still staying with Circe? How much has she learnt? The weight of not-knowing is heavy on Nico’s chest.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Nico almost jumps out of his skin. Instead, he turns to William, scolding his features into a cold mask. William is wearing blue silky robes. Under the sunrays, it looks like a waterfall. When William comes closer, Nico finds himself surprised to not hear the sound of water splashing.

William is even more beautiful in the upper-world; it shouldn’t be allowed. The Fates have really played a trick on Nico.

“Did you really need to bring that sword here?” William asks, gesturing to Nico’s hip. “Do you intend to kill me?”

Heat spreads on Nico’s cheeks. “Did you really need to paint your skin?”

William nods. “It’s art, Nico. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Nico rolls his eyes. William has far too much confidence for his own good. “Not pretending, my Lord.”

“Oh, so we’re using titles.”

William sighs, putting his hands on his hips as he takes a few steps forward. Again not caring for his safety, he invades Nico’s personal space. Nico doesn’t realize he’s put his hand on his sword until William takes it off.

The touch alone makes Nico shiver from head to toe.

“I’m Prince of the Underworld,” Nico says. “Don’t touch me.”

Before William can say another word, Nico slips his hand from free, and takes a few steps back. If anyone were to ask about his reddened cheeks, he would give the fault to the temperature. Instead, he takes in the place around them.

They are in the same clearing Nico has gotten William, after freeing him from the dungeons. Last time he was here; he didn’t stay long enough to study his surroundings. Now he notices that the trees are oaks and pines, and there’s a lake. They must be far from the shore; he can’t smell saltine in the air.

“Where are we?” Nico asks.

“Pelion. The centaur Chiron lives not far from here, training new heroes.” William sits on the lake’s shore, uncovering his legs to dip them in the water. “Have you never met him?”

“A long time ago,” Nico says. The memory leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. He sits not too far from William, keeping his legs crossed under himself.

“Do you not ask me if I met him?”

Nico blinks. “You obviously have. You asked me to bring you here after you spent a night in the Underworld.”

William’s lips curl. “Ask me to be nice, then.”

Nico doesn’t do nice. He’s Prince of the Underworld, there is no need for him to be nice. He’s a warrior, a soldier. He’s killed people, then given them eternal punishment. He’s spent more time with the dead than with the living. He’s scary, he knows that.

“Shouldn’t you be healing me right now?” he asks.

“Won’t it be boring to spend time together if we know nothing about each other?”

“I’m the Prince of the Underworld, heir to my Father’s throne,” Nico says, talking far slower than necessary. “That’s all you need to know.”

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re William.”

“Who’s my Father?”

“I don’t think I care, William. That wasn’t part of our bargain.”

William’s happy expression fades. The sun feels hotter on Nico’s back, far angrier. He shrugs the thought off. He wishes he had stayed in his rooms in his Father’s palace. The lake looks like a mirror of diamonds under the sun, there’s nothing similar in the Underworld.

The rest of the day goes by silently. The only sound is that of nature, although sometimes William hums hymns to Lord Apollo. Nico’s pain doesn’t lessen, if William touches the wrong point his fingers curl in the dust and stones they are sitting on, but he doesn’t say a word.

The moon is high in the sky by the time William lets go of Nico’s leg.

“The day is up, Your Highness,” William says. “You are free of my presence.”

Nico nods. He stands slowly, stretching his leg. He’s been in the same position all day long, something he hasn’t done in a very long time.

“I’ll see you next moon, then,” Nico says. Now that he can leave, he’s not sure he wants to. His Father might be wondering where he is, though. Something he’s sure of, is that he doesn’t want his Father to know of William.

William, who smiles too much and too widely. Not with Nico, anymore. He hasn’t smiled since Nico told him he doesn’t care. The information sits uncomfortable on Nico’s chest.

“I’ll be here,” William says. He makes no move to stand, leaning back on his elbow. His spine cracks, and he lets out a sigh. He closes his eyes, as though he were under the sun instead of the moon.

Is that how he spends his days? Stretching under the sun, painting flowers wherever he can? Is that what other gods do up on Olympus? It’s not the first time Nico has wondered what others his age do, but it’s the first time he really wishes he knew the answer.

William opens an eye, and a smile slowly creeps on his lips as his gaze meets Nico’s. Nico blushes, turning on his heels to walk away. When he puts his foot on the ground, he’s not on the upper world’s soil, but in his Father’s palace.

No sound reaches Nico’s ears down here.

Days go by slowly in the Underworld.

The first years of Nico’s life weren’t so slow. One day he was a young boy, the next he wore a crown and lived among the dead.

He watches them during the day. Often walking through them, often accompanying his Father. The King has a stoic face, and Nico knows he is not much different.

Days go by slowly.

“William.”

William turns, a smile widens on his face. There is no cloud in the sky, its blue reflects perfectly on the surface of the lake. William is wearing robes shorter than Nico’s, which isn’t a surprise, seeing that the upper-world is far warmer than the Underworld. When he was younger, Nico used to shiver even in his bed.

“Do you not spend time here except when you come see me, Your Highness?” William asks, taking his legs out of the water.

Nico raises an eyebrow. “What’s it to you?”

“You are just very pale,” William says. When Nico indignantly stutters, his smile widens even more. “I’m just teasing you.”

“I’m Prince of the Underworld. You can’t do that.”

William looks around. “I don’t see anyone stopping me here.”

“Just get on with my leg.”

Nico sits on the warm soil, William grabs his leg and puts it on his lap. He starts massaging it, the contact gives Nico chills, and dries his throat. It’s not surprise that, when he speaks, his voice is weak.

“What are you doing?”

William raises an eyebrow, looking at Nico from behind his eyelashes. It sends new shivers down Nico’s back.

“What’s it to you, Your Highness?” William asks. Nico furrows his eyebrows; his mouth opens slightly, complaints on the tip of his tongue. “I’m teasing you again. I have healing powers; I use them to check your injury. It was inflicted by the Giants, right? A thorn was left inside; I need to deactivate its powers before I take it out.”

“Is it as bad as it sounds?”

“It might leave you feeling a bit dizzy.” William rubs his neck. His face turns red. Is he choking? He doesn’t smell of death, but maybe it’s different for gods –oh. Right. Gods don’t die.

Also, he’s still moving his mouth. He’s speaking. Crap. Was speaking. Now he looks at Nico like he’s waiting for an answer, and he’s turning even redder.

“I was distracted,” Nico says. “Can you repeat?”

William clears his throat, clasping his hands around Nico’s leg, startling him.

William covers his mouth with his hands. “Oh, sorry, sorry!” He’s even redder, so red he might combust. “Did it hurt you? Of course it did. I’m so, so very sorry, and–”

Nico rubs his hand on his leg, groaning. “Can you just repeat what you said earlier?”

As he talks, William fidgets with his legs. “I was saying, that maybe you were wondering why I knew so much about your injury. But–”

“I really wasn’t to, but go on.”

“-I just knew because –wait. What?”

“I wasn’t wondering anything. But now I’m interested, so you can go on with your story.”

Nico looks at him with raised eyebrows, and William pouts. “I, uh. Yes, well – now I don’t remember where I was.”

“Gods above.”

“Ah, yes. I knew about your injury.” He clears his throat, rubbing his hand on Nico’s leg, a weirdly intimate gesture. “Well, words travel fast. We need something to talk about on Olympus, and… so, your injury.”

Nico blinks slowly. He doesn’t even know why he’s disappointed. He knew William came from Olympus, it’s not surprising that he’s talked of Nico behind his back. Has he laughed at his stupidity for getting so badly injured?

William must notice something shift in Nico’s expression, because his whole face pales.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I just knew about you, and some things about you. Gods talk, and–”

“I really don’t care about how you occupy your time, William.” Nico scolds his features into the coldest mask he can create, but it’s not voluntary the way his lips tug downward. The air is fresher in the upper-world, but now it’s just too fresh, the sun too bright, and Nico too foolish. “Just get on with it.”

William looks down at Nico’s leg, his hands start moving slowly. “As you wish.”

Nico looks down at his wrist, and curses at the stupid tattoo.

Once again, they stay seated on the ground until the moon is high, and the stars are reflecting on the lake. Nico stands on his sore legs, his bones crack.

This time, William stands too.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” William says.

Nico gives him a tight-lipped smile. “And I don’t mean to waste my time, listening to you.”

A step forward, shadows cloak him, and he is in his rooms again.

Time goes by differently in the Underworld. Although, sometimes, it passes much quicker than usual. Sometimes the dead aren’t as passive as usual, and troubles happen. It’s Nico’s job as heir to make sure those problems are solved before they can reach Olympus’ ears.

When problems come, days pass much quicker for Nico. He has something to do, the Underworld doesn’t seem so dead.

He’s just done stopping the escape of those souls, and he walks in the Asphodel Meadows by his Father’s side. It’s a little ritual of them, to walk through the souls together after Nico’s done something for the realm.

“One day it will all be yours,” his Father had told him the first time he had brought Nico along.

Nico was still young, still foolish. He tries his best to not be, now. “But you are a god, you are immortal.”

Hades had smiled at his son’s certainty. “One day the era of the gods will be over. It happened to the Titans, to Father Sky before them. For all my brother thinks we are invincible, stronger than them, we will share their destiny.”

“Doesn’t it scare you, Father?”

“Being scared of death would make me a hypocrite.”

It feels like centuries have passed since that conversation. Maybe they have, Nico has never really grasped the concept of time, not in the way mortals do. Counting years is useless, when you have eternity in front of you.

“Is something troubling you?” His Father asks, side-eyeing him. His gaze falls on Nico’s fingers, curling around the fabric of his clothes.

“I was just thinking,” Nico says. He knows he won’t be able to see Elysium from here, but he tries anyway. “Have you ever heard from Hazel?”

“She is in the upper-world,” Hades says. His voice sounds much colder. “Why are you asking?”

“I was just thinking.”

“You know I can’t give you permission to visit her, wherever she is. She made her choice. She refused the Underworld.”

“I know.” A jolt of pain passes through Nico’s leg. “I was just–”

“Thinking. I know.”

They don’t talk much after that.

“You didn’t come last time.”

Nico looks up at William, his mouth falls slightly open when he takes in the other’s appearance. William is standing right in front of him, with his hands on his hips, clutching his clothes tightly. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips slightly tugged downwards, and no flowers painted on his cheeks.

It’s a strange sight to behold, especially because it makes something blossom inside of Nico’s chest. If he were more honest with himself, he’d just call it worry.

“I waited for you all day,” William continues, tapping his foot on the ground. “Why didn’t you come?”

You look like a child, Nico wants to say. It’s on the tip of his tongue. The words change right as he is speaking.

“I was here last time.”

“Then I suppose you were using your father’s helm to be invisible. I was here and you weren’t.” William pokes his index on Nico’s chest. If Nico were a mortal, he’d stumble back. He’s too godly and too stubborn for that. “At least don’t lie to my face.”

“You shouldn’t talk so freely of my Father.”

William cocks an eyebrow, poking on Nico’s chest every couple of words. Nico doesn’t even remember William walking up to him. “Or what? What consequences will there be?”

His face is only inches from Nico’s. Does it not bother him? Does he not know how dangerous Nico is? Maybe he should have listened better to the talks up in Olympus, if he is so keen on underrating Nico.

“The consequences will be for me, not for you,” Nico says.

William blinks, relaxing his posture. His hand falls to his hip, and he fidgets with the golden belt around his hips. “Does your father not know you are here?”

“I shouldn’t stay in the upper-world,” is all Nico replies. He can’t take William’s eyes anymore, it’s much easier to cross his arms on his chest, and look at the lake behind him. It’s just as bright as always. “I had a lot to do, and I haven’t kept track of the passing of time. I’m sorry you had to waste a day here.”

William’s eyes are already much softer, as he takes Nico’s hand in his own, squeezing it gently. Nico is Prince of the Underworld; William shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t let William do it. With the warmth in his chest, the shivers running up and down his body, starting from his hand, Nico can’t keep track of reality.

“I forgive you,” William says. He smiles, and it’s like seeing the sun for the first time after an eternity of clouds and rain. “Come, we’d better get to it.”

This time, Nico doesn’t stop William when he starts talking.

The day ends, and Nico returns to the Underworld. He makes sure to not miss the next appointment, and when it comes, Nico is the first to arrive.

William talks again. After he is done with Nico’s leg for the day, none of them moves. They remain seated, looking at each other under the moon.

“You never asked me who my father is,” William says.

There’s the beginning of a smile on his lips, and Nico has found out that William’s smile makes his knees go weak, much more than any type of fear ever has. Nico takes a round stone. It skips three times on the calm waters of the lake, before disappearing under the surface. Nico knows what that feels like, being cloaked in shadows and freezing cold as you go down.

He takes another stone.

“Why is it so important for you that I ask?”

“Because you haven’t yet, and there is no reason for you to hold back so much.”

This time the stone skips seven times. Nico takes another.

“You called yourself a god of medicine. Your father is either Asclepius or Lord Apollo. I’ve seen the way you look under the sun, so I’d safely say that your father is Lord Apollo.”

William tilts his head to the side. “You could have just asked me, and I would have told you.”

“But I didn’t need to ask.”

William shakes his head. “It’s not about what you need.”

The stone skips five times. Nico takes another. “Then what is it about?”

“Making conversation, for one.”

“So you want me to ask you questions I already know the answer to, just to have something to talk about?”

“Yes!” William takes the stone from Nico’s hand, and makes only two skips. He lets out a frustrated groan.

“Oh.” Nico takes two stones, and hands one to William. He accepts it without saying a word. “Who is your father, William?”

William sends him an unamused glance. Under the glare, Nico’s skin heats up fast. William passes the stone from hand to hand, his eyebrows furrowed over his eyes.

“Too late for that, I get it,” Nico says, raising his hands. His stone skips seven times.

William throws the stone; it does three skips. He lets out another groan. “I get it. I’m not interesting enough for the Prince of the Underworld, just stop rubbing in my face how–”

Nico’s throat is dry, when he speaks, he stumbles over his own words. “Why were you in the Queen’s gardens?”

“Oh.” William blushes, and it’s a sight to behold. He looks younger, his eyes brighter. He’s even prettier. When he speaks, his voice is soft and low. “There’s a flower only Lady Persephone can grow, and I needed it for a healing drought. A friend of mine –she’s a mortal. She would have died without it.”

Nico looks down at his hands on his lap. The tattoo on his wrist, his sister’s ring on his middle finger. “Just so you know, if you ever ask Persephone for a flower, she will give it to you.”

It’s hard to say no to pretty boys with blue eyes and wide smile. If they paint flowers on their skin, then it’s impossible.

William’s voice takes him back to reality. “I was in a hurry. I didn’t know if I had time to find her, then go to the Underworld and take the flower.”

“Then ask me next time.” Heat spreads on Nico’s cheeks again. “I’m always in the Underworld, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s dangerous, you know? The Underworld has no mercy. If you had been found by a guard, you would have been dragged to the dungeons, to never see the light of day again.”

“You say the Underworld has no mercy, yet you are the Prince, and I am still alive.”

“Yeah. I’m not all that good at my job.”

William looks startled for a moment. His lips parted in surprise, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Then he sags forward, clutching his stomach with his hands, and laughter shakes his body. Such a beautiful sound, made by an even more beautiful creature. Nico would be blessed, if he could spend eternity making William laugh, hearing that sound all over again. It hits Nico then that, if they were mortals, William would be the man another goes to war for.

Another moon goes by. Then another, and another again. Seasons pass in the upper-world; the Underworld prepares to welcome its Queen again.

Days turn colder, sometimes it rains. William and Nico don’t go to the lake anymore, but they see each other in a cave. The first time they go there it’s cold. By the next moon, William brings pillows and covers, and puts them on the ground. It almost feels like a bed, and Nico has a hard time keeping track of conversation, when that thought crosses his mind. By the way William blushes a time or two as he looks at the covers, he’s thought about it too.

Persephone wears a crown of flowers, and she glows in the darkness of the Underworld. Hades bows to her, and kisses her hands. He calls her ‘my beloved’, and Nico blushes as he looks away. Persephone kisses his temple, says his name far too quietly for Nico to hear, but he reads her lips. King and Queen kiss each other on the lips.

Fall has at last arrived.

It’s on a day much like any other that Queen Persephone corners Nico. Actually, she invites him in her gardens, and he goes. It’s in the open –as much as anything in the Underworld can be– and he could leave through the shadows if he wanted to.

She smiles at him from her chair, fruits are laid on the table in front of her. She sits on the chair like another would sit on a throne, with all the confidence in the world. A crown of flower adorns her dark hair. The summer tan is still tainting her naturally dark skin; she will be much paler by the time she goes to her mother again.

“Did you want to see me, Your Majesty?” Nico asks.

Persephone smiles, in a way that many would find warm. Nico would too, if he hadn’t lived in the Underworld for so long. They have never been close. Sometimes, Nico wonders whether she sees Maria or Hades when she looks at him.

“Sit with me, Nikólaos,” she says, gesturing with her hand to the other chair.

Nico grimaces at the use of his name, before sitting on the chair. Its painted in black, and much more Underworld-like than the one Persephone is sitting on. He drums his fingers on the armrest.

“Is something troubling you, Your Majesty?” Nico asks.

“Nothing is. I’ve just heard talks around Olympus, that’s all. I wonder whether they are truth or lies.”

“Talks?” Nico repeats. He’s not sure whether Persephone hates him or not, but either way he knows she wouldn’t go to him for gossip.

“About you getting cozy with a certain son of Apollo.”

Blood falls from Nico’s face, so fast it feels like the ground is opening under him, too. How does Persephone know? Who told her? Nico wants to scream, or open the ground so that it swallows him whole.

“If it were true, there would be nothing wrong with it,” she continues. “I’m just wondering.”

“We are not cozy,” is what Nico manages to say. Heir to the Underworld, and talking with its Queen makes his knees go weak, and not in the pleasant way William’s smile does.

Don’t think of his smile, idiot.

“Are you friends, then?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

Nico doesn’t remember ever having friends. There was a time when he thought he had, but after a while, it felt like being thorn in two different directions. Between the Underworld and his friends, he chose the Underworld. When the days go by slowly, and only the dead keep him company, it’s hard to understand if he made the right choice.

“But you are not lover either?”

Nico chokes on his own spit, which isn’t something a god should be able to do. “No!”

“Just asking.” Persephone has the audacity to chuckle, before taking a sip of whatever is in her goblet. She licks her lips afterwards, closing her eyes as she savors the taste. “He seems nice, by the way.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone knows everyone on Olympus.” She waves her goblet around, a distasteful smile on her lips. “Especially since Apollo parades his children around so much, almost as much as he does with himself. If you were to listen to him, neither him nor his children have any flaw. If anyone were to actually listen to him, they’d know how boring, full of himself and empty he is.” Her smile turns sweet, as though she has just wished someone good luck, and takes another sip from her goblet. “Are you not hungry, Nikólaos?”

Nico shakes his head, biting his lips. “No, thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Does your Father know of William?”

Nico’s heart speeds up. “There’s nothing to know of him.”

“Oh? He’s like his father, then? A pretty, empty shell?”

Nico’s lips tug downwards. “No, he’s –that’s not what I mean. I mean that I have nothing to tell about him.”

“But you visit him.”

Nico scrapes on the chair with his thumbnail, ruining the black paint. “He’s a god of medicine. He’s helping with my leg.”

Persephone’s features turn softer; Nico fixes his gaze on the shiny seeds of pomegranate on the table. The pity in her eyes is far too heavy to bear.

“I see.”

“I would much prefer if my Father didn’t know.”

“I will keep my mouth sealed, then. I swear on the River Styx, I won’t tell your Father about you and William.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

For the first time, he’s relieved he’s talked to Persephone.

William is already sitting on the pillows in the cave, with a blanket covering his lap. He doesn’t know how to light the fire, it’s always Nico’s job.

“People on Olympus know that we meet,” Nico says.

Nico’s voice is much drier than he would like, and William looks worried. Nico looks at him from behind his eyelashes, staying crouched on the ground, with the fire to warm him.

“I know. I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What? A couple of nymphs knowing I’m spending time with you? Why would it?”

Frustration warms Nico even more than the fire in front of him. “I’m the Prince of the Underworld, William.”

“I know, Nico.” William leans forward, tightening the blankets and furs around himself. “So what?”

“So I spend my time amongst the dead, and before meeting with you, I hadn’t spent much time in the upper-world. Most days, I don’t even remember what the sunlight feels like.”

Nico doesn’t notice he’s raised his voice until his words echo in the cave. William’s bright eyes don’t betray any fear, though. Does he not know what Nico is capable of?

“And I spend most of my time braiding my siblings’ hair, as we dance and sing. My days are incredibly boring, Nico.” He tilts his head to the side. “What do you see when you look at me? Are you ashamed of spending time with me?”

“Gods, no!” Nico stands so fast his head spins, and a bolt of pain shoots through his leg.

“Then what?” William’s expression turns much softer, and so does his voice, as he draws his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. “Do you think I am ashamed of you?”

Heat expands on Nico’s cheeks. He knows he’s not as gorgeous as William. Not normally, surely not as he blushes and stutters. It must be answer enough for William, because he resumes talking.

“I’m not. I really like spending time with you. You are funny, when you forget to be a stiffy Prince.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter me too much.”

William giggles. Actually giggles. Nico is almost sure William is just as old as he is, yet he is giggling, and the sound is warm and pleasant. It’s summer air lingering in the cold of autumn, the last spark of life in the souls in Elysium. It’s the sound that makes Nico’s breath break.

“Come here, now. Should I thank you for starting the fire before talking? I swear I was getting hypothermia.”

Nico huffs a laugh, sitting over William’s makeshift bed. He puts his leg on William’s lap. Even after so much time, it still makes him blush.

“Just get on with it,” he mumbles.

Bad days happen. There are days when Nico is so tired he either wanders around the palace without saying a word. Some other days, he can’t find the force to leave his bed. Sometimes, although he wants to get up, his leg acts up, and he can’t so much as walk.

Pain shoots through his leg. His Father passes in his room, or maybe it’s just Nico’s imagination. With William’s cures, he hasn’t had such a bad episode in months. He clutches the blankets of his bed.

Is it winter yet? Is Nico buried under snow? There is no other explanation in his feverish mind.

The door closes. Is Nico alone now? His vision is blurred. Is his hand turning black? Fuck, is it his powers? Someone grunts. But isn’t Nico alone?

He sleeps. He dreams of William. They are in the cave, and William is painting the walls. He turns to Nico with a smile, which stretches the skin of his cheeks. Nico’s heart flutters in his chest.

“You’re going to be fine,” William says.

As free as William is in real life, he’s even more in dreams. He steps forward, and tucks a strand of hair behind Nico’s ear. Afterward, he remains with his hand cupping Nico’s jaw. If Nico leans into the warmth, no one is there to see.

#solangelo #rickriordan #riordanverse #LGBTQ fiction #greek gods #greek gods au #fanfiction #hades #apollo #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo au #percy jackson #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #heroes of olympus

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loganscanons · 4 years

Text

plus one

Characters: Lotus and Ivan, mentions of Jasper and Ava

Summary: A few quick stories. Ivan gets invited to Jasper and Ava’s wedding, Lotus is his plus one, and he looks good in a suit. Lotus definitely isn’t falling for him. The fourth story is ~spicy~ and nsfw.

Standing at the kitchen island, Lotus sorts through the day’s mail, tossing unwanted junk mail into a pile. She stops flicking through, her finger hovering over the edge of a colored envelope. She picks up the card and looks closely at the scrawled words. The addressee is Ivan, and she doesn’t recognize the people listed on the return address.

“Hey, Ivan,” Lotus calls. “There’s mail here for you.”

With silent footsteps, Ivan ambles into the kitchen, and gives her a questioning frown. Lotus tosses the envelope across the counter, and he catches it before it slides off the edge. His eyes flick over the return address. The confused look only deepens. Looking up from her own mail, Lotus watches as he tears the envelope open and pulls out a flat card.

In the year and a half, give or take, that they’d lived together, Ivan had never received a letter. The mail he receives isn’t her business, but this is a new development, and she can’t help but be curious. She chews the inside of her lip, watching his expression go from confused to neutral, his features relaxing.

“What is it?” Lotus asks, trying not to sound too interested.

He tosses the card back to her and signs, <<Wedding invitation.>>

“A wedding invitation?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow. She picks up the card. A save-the-date for Jasper Salvador and Ava Torres’s upcoming wedding. “Who are Jasper and Ava?”

<<We went to camp with them.>>

Lotus looks at him blankly. She stopped going to camp six years ago, and she hardly bothered to know who people were then. By this point, she’s forgotten about most of the people she did know. Jasper and Ava don’t ring any bells.

“Who?”

<<He is son of Apollo,>> Ivan signs. <<She is...I do not remember. It has been long time.>>

Lotus looks closely at the smiling couple on the card, the two caught in a moment of mirth. The woman looks familiar. Her brown locks tumble over her shoulder, and there’s something about her smile that she recognizes.

“Oh,” she says as realization hits her. “She’s friends with JJ.”

It’s Ivan’s turn to have a blank look. <<Who?>>

“JJ Vasquez. He has a twin sister, Harper. They’re Hecate kids,” Lotus explains.

<<I do not know him.>>

Lotus shrugs, “Are you going to go to the wedding?”

He hesitates, then signs, <<Probably.>>

She turns toward the fridge and pins the card beneath a cactus shaped magnet. Under her breath, she mutters, “Such a waste of money.”

Lotus sits at the kitchen table with one knee up, surrounded by open books and lined paper covered in color-coded notes. Absentmindedly, she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, tugging lightly. The sun went down hours ago, but she hasn’t noticed, too focused on her work.

Ivan appears beside her and places a plate of sliced fruit on the table. His presence, looming above her, pulls her out of her hyper-focused headspace. She looks up at him and gives him a small but appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” she says. “What time is it?” She lifts a few books and shuffles through her papers until she finds her phone. It’s almost midnight. She rubs her eyes with her palms and sighs.

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” she mutters. She picks up a sliced strawberry and pops it in her mouth, and looks up at him. Recently, he’d started to bring her food when he knew she’d gone hours without so much as looking up from her work. He would place the plate beside her without comment, then disappear to the couch or his room, unless she asked him to stay. The gesture makes Lotus’s heart flutter.

“Sit down with me,” she says, and reaches beneath the table with her foot to push out the chair nearest to her. Obediently, he sits.

They sit in comfortable silence as Lotus eats the sliced fruit. She still has her knee up, her heel on the edge of her chair, and Ivan sits in the eerily still way that he does. There’s food left on the plate when she gently pushes it away from her, toward him. She’s not hungry. Blowing out another sigh, she starts to gather her notes and close her books. She needs to go to bed if she wants any sleep. Instead, once her papers are in a pile, she remains in her chair, her cheek pressed against her knee.

When Ivan notices she’s not intending to return to her work, he asks, <<What is plus one?>>

“What?” Lotus asks. It sounds like an incomplete math problem.

<<Plus one,>> he repeats. <<Jasper says I have plus one for his wedding.>>

“Oh,” she says. “That means you can bring one person with you. Like a date.”

There’s a small, unidentified flutter in her stomach. She staunchly ignores it.

He nods slowly, looking vaguely into space. <<Do I have plus one?>> he asks as he turns his gaze back to her.

“I don’t know,” Lotus says, sounding more annoyed than she means to. “Do you?”

Maybe he does have another woman in his life. She doesn’t own him. How should she know what his plus one options are?

<<I do not know,>> he says. His eyes widen, and he looks like a child who’s been placed in an unexpected situation, slightly panicked. He holds his hands up, ready to sign, hesitates, then asks again, <<Do I have plus one?>>

“What are you asking me?” Lotus asks. She suspects he’s asking her to be his plus one, but she doesn’t want to be wrong and seem like she expects him to invite her. She doesn’t expect him to. They’re just roommates who fuck sometimes. Besides, he knows her feelings about weddings. They’re dull and a waste of money.

<<Do I…>> he wavers, then starts again. <<Are you...do you want to be my plus one?>>

Lotus stands abruptly, nearly knocking her chair over. She pushes the chair back into place, stacks her notes on top of her books in a neat pile, then turns to him. “I don’t like weddings,” she says, her tone bordering on exasperated.

His shoulders slump and the look in his eyes suggests bewilderment, unsure what to make of her reaction.

In a soft voice, barely above a whisper, she says, “I’ll be your plus one.” She leans down to kiss his temple, then flees from the kitchen, disappearing into her bedroom. Ivan is left sitting at the table alone, staring at nothing for several minutes as he tries to understand what just happened.

Lotus stands above her bathroom sink, scrubbing her face more vigorously than she should. The conversation has left her feeling tingly and annoyed, for reasons she can’t place. Nor does she care to place them. The way he’d invited her was just annoying. That’s all.

As much as she hates going out on formal excursions, especially to weddings, Lotus enjoys getting dressed up. It’s nice to feel pretty and dolled up. She turns, examining herself in the mirror. This is the first time she’s had a chance to wear this dress; a dark olive, off-the shoulder dress that reaches her knees. A slit runs from the bottom of the dress to her upper left thigh, showing more leg than she usually does. Her jewelry is all silver. A silver chain necklace with a shining white jade pendant, a gift from Connie, rests above the collar of her dress. She wears a matching white jade bangle on her wrist, and her earrings are thin silver chains.

Lotus smooths her dress. She looks good. She spent a long time on her make-up, much longer than she usually does, and it was well worth it. Even if she has a boring time at the wedding -- which she will -- at least she’ll get to feel pretty for a while.

She turns away from the mirror, grabs her clutch that’s lying on the sink countertop, and flicks off the bathroom light.

“Hey, Ivan,” she calls as she walks into the main room. “Are you ready to go--oh,” the last syllable falls from her lips as a soft gasp.

Lotus has always been attracted to Ivan. Even at camp, when she was an uncomfortable teenager and she hardly spoke to him, she’d thought he was attractive. The night when they met in the bar years later, the attraction reignited. The tattoos, the piercings, his toned arms, the dark expression that kept people away. He checked nearly all her boxes.

But this...this is a look she’s never seen on him. The suit flatters him, hugs his arms and thighs, fits the breadth of his shoulders. The tattoos on his wrist poke out beneath the olive button down she bought for him as he readjusts the cuffs. He looks like a villain in a spy movie. It’s hot. He’s hot. There’s a stirring feeling in her abdomen, and her body warms. She didn’t want to go to the wedding before, and she wants to even less now. She wants to stay here in the hotel and appreciate Ivan in a suit.

She makes herself look away and take a deep breath; try to cool the warmth in her cheeks. Lust, especially for Ivan, isn’t new for her, but something about this feeling is different. More and more lately, she’s noticed her heart fluttering when Ivan smiles at her or laughs at something she said. Little things, like cleaning the kitchen or folding the laundry, make her want to wrap her arms around him. As she ogles him in his suit, that feeling, whatever it is, mixes with the lust. She ignores it and moves toward him.

“This is a good look on you,” she murmurs as she approaches him. A smirk plays on his lips, as she places her hand on his lapel. She gives him a lingering kiss, which he returns without hesitation. Her heels make her one inch taller than he is, a deliberate choice on her part, and she doesn’t need to tilt her head up to kiss him.

There were rules, albeit unspoken ones, that they both followed when Ivan moved in. One of their silent agreements was that physical intimacy would be limited to the bedroom. Or the couch. Or wherever they decided to fuck. There were no gentle kisses on the cheek, no hand holding, no nuzzling affectionately. But the rules are becoming obsolete. More and more often, Ivan will reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear, or she’ll kiss his head as she passes him on the couch, or she’ll fall asleep on his chest after they’ve done nothing more than talk. Lotus needs to reset the boundaries. She doesn’t want to give Ivan the wrong idea. But that’s a problem for another day.

Lotus holds her hand out to Ivan, inviting him to take it. “Shall we?” she asks.

The door shuts behind Ivan with a soft click. He’s hardly had a chance to lock the deadbolt when he’s grabbed by the collar and tugged forward. His eyes widen, but Lotus doesn’t see that. Her lips crash against his, and she stumbles back against the wall, pulling him with her. The momentary surprise wears off, and he puts his hands on her waist and leans into the kiss.

The wedding was torture, and not just because it was a wedding. Ivan was beside her for most of it, looking incredible, and seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil. Never had she so badly wanted to drag someone into a private room and tear their clothes off. Any physical intimacy in any remotely public place didn’t interest her. The thought of getting caught mortified her. But Ivan looked so good, and she didn’t want to be at this wedding and make small talk with strangers, and he looked really, really good. The interactions with strangers and distant acquaintances started to grate on her, so she’d quietly asked Ivan to step away with her, just for a few minutes. She told herself she only intended to get some air, to get away from people for a bit.

The moment they found a secluded spot, Lotus broke her own rule about doing anything in public. She pulled him into a kiss in a way that was embarrassingly desperate. She felt like a horny teenager escaping a high school party to make out with her crush for seven minutes in heaven. Her cheeks flushed as Ivan’s hand moved up the slit her dress. She stopped him before he could go any further, though she would have loved nothing more than for him to continue. Just not in public. She smoothed her dress, fixed her hair, and reapplied her lipstick, which fortunately wasn’t the kind of lipstick that left marks. Without a word to Ivan, she returned to the wedding, hoping her cheeks weren’t noticeably red.

Now, she’s going to finish what she started. She runs her hand up the edge of his suit jacket, and tries to tug it off his shoulder, not willing to break the kiss for long enough to look at what she’s doing. Ivan’s hands leave her waist just long enough to pull the jacket off. The garment falls to the floor. He took his tie off the moment they’d left the wedding, and popped open the top button of his shirt, freeing himself from the restricting fabric. In the quiet of their hotel room, Lotus fumbles with the button beneath it.

Ivan doesn’t resist as she puts one hand on his chest and pushes him away from her. He takes a step back and gives her space. She wants to look at him. Her eyes rake over his body and the arousal that stirs inside her is overwhelming. It’s almost unfair how good he looks, the button-down outlining his muscles, the fabric parting to reveal his chest where the shirt has been unbuttoned. His arousal is apparent through the suit pants. She could melt. With a shaky breath, Lotus runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it out of her face.

“Come here,” she commands breathlessly, grabbing the collar of his shirt again. The shirt looks so good on him; she wants it to stay on for a bit longer.

He moves with her, braces one hand against the wall beside her head as he falls forward, and puts the other hand on her waist. As her lips part for him, the hand he has against the wall moves to cup her cheek. He moves his right hand under her knee and pulls her leg up to his hip, which she hooks around him. His hand slides up her thigh, up the slit in the fabric, and his mouth moves down the length of her neck, nipping lightly at her skin. She tilts her head back with a gasp and tangles her fingers in his hair.

Ivan pushes up the fabric of her dress, causing it to bunch around her hips. He slides his hand between her thighs, and his fingers ghost over her underwear. She knows he can feel how wet she is. The jolt that runs through her as he touches her makes her wobble.

“Hold on,” she gasps, pressing her palms against his shoulders. “I need--” He’s already drawn back.

Still balancing on one leg, she tugs off her high heel, then tosses it toward the door. She pulls the other shoe off, then leans back against the wall, and gives herself another few seconds to drink him in.

“Okay,” she says with a goofy, inviting smile. She feels giddy.

She holds her hands out to him, and he takes them, but he doesn’t move closer, instead taking a moment to look her over. The look in his eyes as his gaze moves up her body makes her tingle. She likes being ogled by him. Likes knowing that she’s the reason his pants feel tighter. While she’s aware that his favorite look of hers is when she’s wearing nothing at all, she also knows how good she looks in this dress.

Impatient and unwilling to wait any longer, Lotus pulls Ivan toward her by his belt loops. Her hands move to his belt buckle, and she tilts her head to kiss him. She unbuttons his pants and frees him. His hands are on her again, pushing her dress higher up her hips. His fingers linger on the waistband of her underwear as he kisses her neck. With no protest from her, he pulls the underwear down her thighs. The fabric drops to her ankles. She steps out of them and kicks them to the side.

Pinned between Ivan and the wall, Lotus hooks her legs around him. He grips her thighs, holding her up, and she guides him into her. Another gasp escapes her lips as he rolls his hips. She tugs at his hair. If he could, he’d be moaning.

It doesn’t take long for Lotus to start coming undone; maybe it’s because she’s been waiting for this, wanting this, thinking about this for hours. Rushes of pleasure surge through her. She presses her face against his neck, breathing heavily. She can smell his aftershave, and that sends her over the edge, making her entire body tremble. Her fingers grip his hair tighter, and she lets out a quiet whine as she leans her forehead against his shoulder.

Ivan starts to pull away, but she shakes her head still resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his face. “Uh-uh,” she gasps, her hands running through his hair. “Finish.”

Not needing to be told twice, he thrusts his hips again, and she whines and presses her lips against his throat. The overstimulation makes her dizzy in the best way. Her breath is heavy and warm against Ivan’s neck as she gasps and tries not to whine. She hasn’t stopped trembling, and the pleasure hasn’t stopped. Her breath hitches.

Lotus leans her head back against the wall as Ivan spills inside her. He kisses her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, his fingers digging into her thighs. For a dizzying, blissful moment, time stands still, her overwhelmed with pleasure with him still inside her. He breathes heavily against her chest.

Slowly, Lotus lowers her legs, her arms still wrapped around him, her head still tilted back against the wall. Her legs feel like jelly, and she wobbles, but Ivan grips her waist, keeping her upright. Lotus giggles and runs her hands through her hair. Later, she’ll blush at the thought of her giddy giggle, but right now, she’s too blissed out to worry about anything.

“That was fun,” she whispers, as her eyes fall closed.

For a moment, his hands leave her, and she makes a quiet noise of protest, not opening her eyes. Then he lifts her again, and she leans against him as he carries her to the bed. She lands gently on the mattress, Ivan carefully moving with her, her legs gripping him.

“You should wear suits more often,” she says. She gazes up at him.

Ivan smiles and shakes his head in amusement, enjoying her happiness. Another jolt runs through Lotus, different than when Ivan’s fingers were moving over her. His smile makes her heart flutter. She pulls him down into another kiss, not acknowledging that she has butterflies in her stomach and can feel her own heartbeat.

#lotus itami #ivan molotov #java wedding #my writing

7 notes · View notes

mashounen2003 · 3 years

Video

youtube

Here is the text of the video, translated into English. Seriously, check out this video, this guy is awesome.

"Conspiracy Theories" by Guille Aquino.

Posted on June 27, 2019.

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Warning: if you're influenceable, you need to watch this.

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Alright, before we start, I want us to welcome and applaud our new friends from the CIA, the FBI, NASA, the former SIDE -today, the AFI-, the KGB, Interpol, and the lazy virgins at the troll centre on Miserere Park, who are surely already watching this video because today we're gonna talk about...

Conspiracy Theories.

We all know some: the humans didn't go to the Moon, the 9/11 was a self-attack by the USA's government, Bin Laden never existed, Walt Disney is frozen, Elvis Presley is alive, the Simpsons predict the future, Marcelo Tinelli went to a famous hospital with a famous object inserted in a famous place on his body, and Dengue and Zika fever were created by Bill Gates who genetically modified mosquitoes to depopulate the Earth because it most likely was easier than making work that "Internet Explorer" bulls*** he sold us. But let's get to the news: in early 2019, YouTube modified its recommendation algorithm to avoid promoting conspiracy theories and false information. And let's stop here because I want us to become aware of the magnitude this matter took on and how this little joke of the conspiracy theories videos completely went to Hell.

Think of it this way: YouTube, the second most trafficked website in the world after Google, with over 30 million visitors per day and over 1.3 billion users -almost a third of all people connected to the Internet in the world-, where 300 hours of videos are uploaded per minute and almost 500 trillion videos are viewed per day, had to change its own recommendation system because all of us were watching too many videos denouncing that Lali Espósito is an Illuminati:

Video excerpt: [with obvious robotic voice] "Also, at the second Number Ten, she covers one of her eyes again, obviously symbolizing the All-Seeing Eye."

And I'm very sorry to tell you that, in today's world, if YouTube has a problem, we all have a problem.

Conspiracy theories are the Internet's new porn. In fact, if you filter the words "conspiracy" and "theories" by the number of views, the most viewed video has 36 million views. THIRTY-SIX! MILLION! VIEWS! That's like putting together the total populations of Belgium, Greece, Cuba and Jamaica, and then lighting a giant reefer to everyone and making them watch this video of people saying the Earth is flat:

Another video excerpt: [Channel 13 interview with Flat-Earthers, recorded in a park in Buenos Aires] "I pour water into this dish... Look, I pour water, and it stays, you see? But we pour water into the globe... and it goes down, people."

Okay, now we're gonna go over some of the most popular conspiracy theories of recent times, and we're gonna try to deconstruct the psychological profile of the average consumer of the conspiranoid world.

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We'll start with everyone's favourite...

The Flat-Earthers.

Excerpt of the second video: "This first meeting began to be announced in the groups I followed on YouTube. (And the tattoo you have there, what is it?) This is the flat Earth, the Sun and the Moon."

The Flat-Earthers basically hold the theory that the Earth is not actually spherical, and they claim Galileo Galilei was an old smoke-seller blabbermouth who often played into the Far-Right's hands, cut his hair in an old-fashioned barbershop and used the 1610 telescope mainly to bed with chicks. And I have nothing personal against the Flat-Earthers but I find it difficult to take them seriously, mostly because much of their scientific hypothesis can be explained with this blooper.

Excerpt of another, different video: "There's an inflatable pool filled with water and with two people in it, a third person suddenly jumps into the water, and the pool deforms and overflows on the other side, as one of the two previously present people also falls over the edge."

(Images from the film "Armageddon".)

The truth is that the "flat Earth" theory has one fundamental premise, and it's the same one that supports 100% of conspiracy theories:

There's a power above us that manages everything.

Governments, lobbies and other de facto powers are capable of lying on a massive scale, just as intelligence services, the New World Order and FlyBondi hostesses do.

Excerpt of the second video: "(And you can't see the curvature of the Earth from the plane.) Uh... I travelled by plane to Bariloche, and no, I didn't see it. There's some aircraft glass with a small magnification or something that changes your perspective, due to the thickness of the window, and because aircraft glass also has something."

Alright, stop, let's not turn this into "Point at the crazy assholes and laugh" either, right? Well, yes, a little- But we go beyond that! We're better than that!

Why do so many people choose to believe we're puppets of an evil system? One might say that, in the absence of a sense of real control over our own lives and in the face of the desolation of living in a seemingly random, chaotic world, believing there's an external force exerting control is, to some extent, comforting. Yes, phone the Vatican.

And according to a certain old white upper-middle-class snob who teaches at Harvard University, conspiracy theorists share several or at least one of the following features: they're paranoid, radical, extremist in their opinions; they aspire to a feeling of superiority, and basically, they feel special for possessing information that exceeds the common citizen. Yeah, it's like the row for an indie film festival.

Umberto Eco even said:

"The control syndrome invades us. When someone claims to have a secret, their strength is not in hiding something but in making people think there's even a secret in the first place."

And I didn't understand a f*** because I've never read a book in my life, but it sounds ultra-mega-hyper cool. I dare you to deny it!

So who would be the most likely to believe in these kinds of theories? People who had bad experiences in life, people in search of an answer that would rescue them from a deep existential crisis, and the most important: people in search of a place of belonging.

Excerpt of the second video: "Well, no, this opened a door for me to start thinking more, to question things, about a supposed alien invasion."

Wait, stop right there. Excuse me, but if I'm an alien and I have the power to cross the universe in a spaceship, with my own army and the ability to colonize a celestial body, I don't even waste my time invading a paper-thin planet. Give me a round planet or give me death!

And that's when the contradiction comes into play. Because if you believe in one conspiracy theory, you immediately start to believe in all of them. It's like the weed. Even the refutation of a plot fits within the plot itself: for example, if you believe Lady Diana was killed by the British Crown, you're also prone to believe Lady Diana is actually still alive.

(Woah, Mind Blown... She was totally killed anyway, sorry.)

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Good, let's move on to the next one:

The Anti-Vaccination movement.

Okay, here we come to a key point, since clearly there are the "harmless" conspiracy theories and the... rather dangerous ones. We've all heard someone say vaccines may cause autism in kids. Now, I'm clearly a specialist in absolutely nothing, and I ain't gonna explain why you guys have to vaccinate your children, so I better recommend to you the websites of any Ministry of Health or Wikipedia, so that you later visit them and find out how very important it is to inject legal drugs to your sweet little angels. And it's not to detract from any position or to err on the side of bigotry, but if you're an anti-vax and your baby coughs next to me, I swear I'll kick their head off.

(Tack! That bag of germs...)

And after all, that's why we invented Democracy!

(Ha, of course not, but...)

In fact, I dunno who gives a f*** about this but maybe someone will find it useful: I follow a pretty simple method when it comes to ideologically locating myself regarding any issue. And this is:

Always do the opposite of whatever Gisela Barreto says.

Gisela Barreto: [speaks with a flag in the background] "Vaccines show up, and they show them to us as something that heals us. Actually, they're part of our death."

(Seriously, she came this close to being in the Avengers.)

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Okay, and now let's move on to one that touches us all closely (at least here, in my country):

Hitler in Argentina.

It's the conspiracy theory ensuring that, after losing World War II, the Nazi leader, the most disgusting dictator and genocide in Human History, came to live incognito in our country. And I ask myself: what the heck did we need to shelter Hitler for? The birth of Alejandro Biondini, who's pretty much our local version of Nazism, was imminent:

Interview with Biondini in 1991 by Mariano Grondona in his program "Key Time":

Grondona: "Would you condemn Adolf Hitler?"

Biondini: "No, we vindicate Adolf Hitler."

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Okay, question: is it possible to keep a secret on such a large scale for so many years? Well, the Math says no. Seriously! I've read that a physicist at the Oxford University (Where else?) took the "humans didn't go to the Moon" theory, and then this guy created a mathematical calculation based on the number of conspirators involved, the time elapsed since the conspiracy, and the inherent possibility that a plot would fail.

For example, in the case of Apollo 11, 411 thousand NASA employees were involved, and according to the variables this physicist analyzed, the lie should have been known in less than four years; half a century passed, and no employee denied the mission. What does this tell us? Well... they were threatened and killed off, of course! It's obvious! [imitating Mirtha Legrand] Stanley Kubrick was not in the coffin! Nobody saw him. Nobody saw him!

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Gimme more!

Famous people who are actually dead.

For example, Paul McCartney. On the cover of the album "Abbey Road", he's barefoot; a clear subliminal message that the real one died and was replaced with a stand-in. (Why?!) It sounds silly, but the rumour got so big that McCartney himself had to go out and publicly deny it... Although come to think of it, he also came out to congratulate the butchers who named their butcher shop "Paul Mac Carne" ["Paul McMeat"], so maybe he's truly a stand-in and, to top it off, looks like a raisin.

Excerpt of another video: "Well, thinking of different names, someone said "Paul Mac Carne". And well, he, being a vegetarian, says the idea was very good, started laughing and sent us a greeting."

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I love this one:

The Reptilians.

It's basically the theory that there's a race of amphibian aliens [Wait for a second: aren't they called "reptilians"?] living among us for centuries and hiding their reptilian features behind human faces.

(Oh, you were telling me they're not actually aliens because they were born here?)

Excerpt of the 1996 movie "Mars Attacks!".

And who discovered this? David Icke! Or "Ique". An unsuccessful former soccer player and sportscaster. (How can you be unsuccessful as a soccer sportscaster?! All you need is a suit!) It's like believing in a religion where your Pope is Diego Latorre.

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Now, I know what you're thinking: after all, how dangerous can all this get? I mean, no conspiracy theory has someone popular to represent it, no spokesperson of ridiculous and implausible plots has reached a truly important position in today's world.

Bah... There's actually only one.

The President of the United States of America.

That's right! Donald Trump, once the leader of the most powerful country in the world, had come to power mostly by throwing out fake news and conspiracy theories. And here are some:

Barack Obama is an immigrant.

Trump: "And I just say: why doesn't he show his birth certificate?"

Global warming is a myth.

Trump: "Obama is saying all of this has to do with global warming and I say all that is a hoax..."

Gisela Barreto was right.

Trump: "At two and a half years old, the baby, the beautiful baby, went to get the vaccine. Now he's autistic."

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Okay, then... Conspiracy theories. For what? Well, in the case of Trump: influence on public opinion and accumulation of power. In the case of people who upload videos to YouTube... What do you think? A profitable, monetizable business! In fact, there's the conspiracy theory that we're actually making this video about conspiracy theories in order to have lots of views and earn buttloads of cash. (We'd never do that!)

And finally, a much deeper, inherent aspect of the human condition:

The need to believe in something.

The world is divided into two types of people: some think everything happens for a reason, everything is a sign, and perhaps there's also a magical entity organizing things for us; the other half of the people think we live in a desolate world without meaning or messages, there are only atoms randomly colliding with each other, and the Universe gives no f***s about us. Which of these two groups seems happier to you? Which one do you belong to? Which one would you like to belong to? I choose to join the conspiranoids! And listen to this, I know exactly what's going on:

The New World Order organized the Lollapalooza at the request of the Illuminati, who wanted to marketingly manage Lali Espósito, who actually wears a mask and underneath is "La Mona" Giménez, who's not actually a monkey but a reptile and has drank all the wine to get immunized against the vaccines at the request of Gisela Barreto, who was born in Corrientes just like Barack Obama, who claimed to have killed Bin Laden, who's actually alive and was driving the car that crashed that night and carried Chano Charpentier, who taught driving to Lady Diana, who was actually Mexican and was assassinated by Donald Trump, who was matched on Tinder with Hitler, who lives in a nursing home in Recoleta and has glaucoma, so he's hitting the reefers with Biondini, who is actually a hippie and a fan of León Gieco, invented global warming and, when being in a bad mood, takes a bus and goes to dinner at "Paul Mac Carne", where they invented the extra-thin Provoleta cheese, which coincidentally has the same shape as the Earth, which is actually flat!

*sigh* Knowledge is power. Quiero creer.

Soundtrack: State Anthem of the Soviet Union.

#conspirative theories #Analysis

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haec-est-fides · 4 years

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Octavian in The Tyrant’s Tomb

Or rather, the lack thereof. You all know I’m salty about this, so here’s the official rant.

First, let’s look at where he was mentioned. Exactly twice.

“The legion had no high priest, no pontifex maximus. Their former augur, my descendant Octavian, had died in the battle against Gaia. (Which I had a hard time feeling sad about, but that’s another story.)”

This one really hit me because it’s primarily just another instance of Apollo’s unnecessary sass. In The Hidden Oracle, he seemed to at least recognize his own fault in the matter for a split second: “A voice whispered in the back of my mind. This time I thought it might be my conscience: Who was the stupid boy? It wasn’t Octavian.” What happened to that? I get it, Rick knows that most fans hate Octavian. Ha ha. What’s important is that Apollo also thinks this way about Gaius Caligula and Nero, who are also his descendants. For all his character development, and for all the similarities between himself and these people he despises, Apollo can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that yeah, they all got this from him. It’s one of the last bastions of Apollo’s ego and hypocrisy, and I don’t think it’s ever going to be addressed.

It’s half-heartedly joked that there are no “adults in the room” in New Rome anymore. Reyna notices a difference in the dynamic of the Senate. Apollo is expected to do all the ceremonial duties regarding Jason’s funeral. Beyond this, the book never once directly admits that Octavian’s absence has otherwise impacted New Rome. Or how his family reacted to his death. Sure the chaotic state of the community may play a role in this, but more on it later.

Apollo has mentioned in ToA that, of all his godly memories, he specifically remembers his talks with Octavian. I for one am very interested in this “other story” that Rick refuses to explore.

““Praetors often partner up. In power. But also romantically, I mean. I thought Jason. Then for a hot minute, Percy Jackson. Gods help me, I even considered Octavian.” [Reyna] shuddered.”

This mention is purely throwaway; it’s meant to show how truly desperate Reyna was feeling. For the record, I respect Reyna’s subplot, for all I care about it at all. I think it’s hilarious how clearly repulsed she sounds at herself for even considering dating Octavian. Let’s be clear: this isn’t her admitting she ever liked him, or - gods forbid - had a crush. This is Reyna commenting on how oppressive the expectations of society are on single women. What’s funnier to me is that Octavian would have 100% turned her down, and her self esteem would have been toast. Good for her for sticking to her heart and not letting the world tell her what to do.

Moving on, what’s more important is how Octavian wasn’t mentioned. I've said before that Riordan’s decision to flat out ignore Octavian has led to some minor but annoying continuity issues.

On a purely practical note, Octavian was a prominent, active member of a religion, a government, and a military. New Rome doesn’t have an augur. As Jason’s funeral shows, Apollo had to take up the associated religious duties. But how did New Rome handle honoring those who died in the war with Gaia? Or those who were more recently lost, in the fighting with Tarquin? How has the operation of the legion and senate shifted? Who replaced him as centurion of the first? What is it like to not be able to seek the gods’ approval via augury? Who approves new recruits, checks their credentials and assigns them to cohorts, and eventually gives them their tattoos? Who awards mural crowns and other military distinctions? New Rome has been without an augur before, as it’s a rare gift, but these questions still need to be answered for the community to operate.

Back to Octavian’s family! His family is said to have been the oldest, richest, and most influential family in New Rome. Octavian is at least a 3rd generation camper, his family going back a hundred years or more. This is stressed in HoO because it’s used to show just how “entitled” and stuck up he is, but now? It’s not mentioned at all. No mourning, no help in Rome’s time of crisis, nothing. Unless by Octavian’s “family” Riordan was solely referring to the Triumvirate and Octavian was a member of an Imperial Household the whole time, this is ridiculous. I need to write a whole post about this, because Octavian’s life is fascinating when you consider what implications this has.

As Gaius and Commodus are attacking New Rome with their fleet of yachts, New Rome’s navy gets brought up. I know Apollo isn’t the best narrator on this point, but all that’s mentioned is the sad boat Percy used for the Alaska quest. That small fleet of very nice speedboats that Octavian funded for the attack on Camp Half-Blood? Nope. Is this just Apollo being out of the loop? What happened to New Rome’s fleet?

With New Rome in chaos, this last point is really more of a nit pick, but can we please remember that Octavian led a very willing camp to war? Even before the Argo II disaster, even before Octavian spoke out at the Senate, the lares and legionnaires in the streets showed anti-Greek sentiment. The 5th cohort was “Greeks and geeks.” When Octavian proposed war, he had the legion on his side. As soon as Reyna left to go help with the Athena Parthenos, the centurions were ready to disobey her and follow Octavian. Even in the final battle of HoO, only the 4th and 5th cohorts really start to turn against him. All of this backs a very important, but largely ignored, point: you can lead a horse to the Senate, but you can’t make it vote. We see none of that tension in New Rome now. I get that most of the legion is dead, and that’s a huge part of it, but no one spoke out at all. We don’t see anyone with the opinion that Octavian did save Rome and defeat Gaia. We don’t see him get any funerary honors (which makes the book’s message concerning death all the more hypocritical). When Gaius confronts Frank - “Praetor Zhang, you are duty-bound to recognize Roman authority, and we are it! Together, we can rebuild this camp and raise your legion to glory!” - he’s right. But we don’t see a single legionnaire hesitate.

I get that New Rome isn’t Riordan’s favorite, and that to develop the Romans would require a whole series of its own, but the sheer shallowness of New Rome just felt lazy. Even mentioning Octavian’s legacy would have done so much to show us more about Camp Jupiter. How is he remembered? A hero? A tyrant? A martyr? A fraud?

#octavian #trials of apollo #toa #heroes of olympus #hoo #new rome #camp jupiter #rick riordan #filodox!

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devil-kindred · 4 years

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Get to Know Me - raisinghellinotherworlds

Saw @pd3 do this and though I’d give it a go!

1. Name : Siren (it’s a pseudonym!)

2. Nationality: American

3. Age: 27

4. Birthday: January 29th

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Aquarius

6. Gender: Female

7. Sexuality: Heterosexual

More below the cut

[[MORE]]

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)

For the record this is the only recent picture of myself I like and this is about as much of my face as you’ll ever see bc I know my angles.

9. What do you/did you study?: I went to school for a Bachelors in Arts with and emphasis on Sciences but never finished it bc 1) college is expensive and 2) I don’t know what I want to do career-wise so there’s not a point in going back anymore.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: I’m a service desk associate at a department store. Something where I could deal with less people bc boy does this job push my patience sometimes.

11. What is your birth order?: Firstborn/Oldest.

12. How many siblings do you have?: Technically four, but only two living.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: My immediate family. My siblings are closer to each other (but they’re only two years apart) but we get along. I also have a good relationship with my parents though I’m not as close to my mom as I could be it’s hard to forget the not nice things your parent say to you as a kid.

14. How many friends do you have?: Lots though only a few I see/talk to on a regular basis.

15. Your relationship status: Single.

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Intelligent, kind, has a sense of humor.

17. Do you have a crush?: I guess.

18. When was your first kiss?: WHY *sighs* I was... 25.

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: I’ve... never been in an actual relationship? I’d like to say serious.

20. What are your deal breakers? Being rude, cheating, and treating me like a child/you know what’s best for me/someone in need of saving (new flash, i am not your princess peach/some damsel in distress. If you need to rescue someone I am not your girl).

21. How was your day?: It’s still early into the day and I go to work in about an hour and a half and I get to close so we’ll see!

22. Favourite food & drink: French Fries. Or anything with potatoes. I’m a fiend. And Dr. Pepper or Coffee.

23. What position do you sleep in?: On my side/stomach on the part of the bed that’s against the wall.

24. What was your last dream about?: It was... highly NSFT and no, I will not go into detail.

25. Your fears: I’m not a fan of spiders or bugs of any kind really, I hate clowns, and I don’t like thunderstorms. Or tornados.

26. Your dreams: Move, either out of state or out of the country.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: A bird, Momo.

29. What are your hobbies?: Writing, playing video games, and reading (fanfic or books)

30. Any cool places in your area?: I’m sure there are but I live in a town surrounded by corn and other farmland so... it’s anyone’s best guess.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: The other day when a customer stared at me for a solid three minutes when I explained that due to the pandemic we’re no longer offering one of our services in an effort to reduce contact.

32. What is your last regret?: That I didn’t realize the true nature of some people who I no longer speak to sooner.

33. Language/s you can speak: English, Spanish (I’m so rusty though), a little bit of French, and a teeny tiny bit of Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): I believe in my many things so yes.

35. Have any quirks?: Uh... I mess with my hair when I’m nervous? & the more nervous I get my (already high) voice gets higher and will go up several octaves the more nervous I get?

36. Your pet peeves: People in my apartment building slamming the front door all the damn time.

37. Ideal vacation: Somewhere with nice scenery and where it’s calm.

38. Any scars?: Quite a few small ones on my head from a car accident when I was just a baby (I went through a window- got a few scrapes but other than that was unharmed) and one on my hand (it’s on both sides of my hand too) from when I was toddler and got bit by a dog.

39. What does your last text message say?: “I’ll let you know when I get some gameplay posted!” I have a sideblog for casual TS4 gameplay. Was telling a friend that I was going to post new stuff soon.

40. Last 5 things from your search history: No thanks! It’s all just checking if a word is really a word and spelling anyways.

41. What’s your [Device] background?: Lockscreen is a wallpaper from FFXV ft. The Chocobros; Hope Screen is Sam & Evie.

42. What do you daydream about?: Writing mostly.

43. Describe your dream home: Decent amount of space, a library room to hold all my books... good lighting, comfy.... preferably NOT in the middle of nowhere.

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion: I am not a fan. Particularly of Christianity but everyone has their own beliefs and in that regard, to each their own. Just don’t try to convert me bc the answer is f*ck no.

45. Your personality type: INFP.

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done?: Climbed onto the roof of the shed when I was little because I got something stuck up there.

47. Are you happy with your current life?: For the most part!

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life: Gymnastics, Ballet, etc.

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Lots of t-shirts, jeans, shorts, flats, boots, etc.

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black or Blue.

51. How would you describe your style?: Extremely casual.

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Kinda? I really need to cut my hair because it’s gotten so long it’s annoying. But I can put up with it until it’s safe again bc pandemic. My hair is not that important I assure you.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Oh God, could I be taller? Like at least 5’3”? Which is still teeny but better than my 4’9” ass.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos?: I have 3 piercings and three tattoos (two finished, one in progress)

55. Do you get complimented often?: Maybe? I’m oblivious to the point that you could have a flashing neon sign with the compliment written on it and it would probably still go over my head.

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Biker Chic!

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Neon.

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with?: Blessed Be - Spiritbox.

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like: If I like a song, I like it. But if I have to pick one, I know everyone hates Despacitio. I know, ok but I really like the original version bc I like the sound. Latin music always has a fun groove to it.

60. Favourite genre?: Rock & Metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Type O Negative, Pallbearer, Ice Nine Kills. Give me all the goth rock/metal and just fun metal in general.

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Oh boy... don’t hate me but I um... don’t care too much for T Swift? And I’m not a fan of country.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5: Devil’s // Door - VCTMS, Karasu - The GazettE, Path - Apocalyptica, I Walk the Line - Halsey, Drumming Song - Florence + the Machine

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kinda play bass but I’m still learning so it’s just like... the very bare basics.

65. Do you like karaoke?: I’m very self-conscious so no.

66. Own any albums?: Yes, though majority are digital.

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Yes. I have it on for background noise in my room in which case I don’t pay attention to it, but I have XM radio in my car where I listen to Octane/Liquid Metal/Turbo.

68. Favourite movie/series?: The Dark Knight trilogy or Hellraiser or Nightbreed.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Horror, Sci-fi, and fantasy.

70. Your fictional crush/es: Too many. Look at my OCs and their SO’s and you’ll find a bunch of them.

71. Which fictional character is you?: My friends would say Mira Jane from Fairy Tail. My bestie says Mercedes from Fire Emblem Three Houses (minus the devout part bc... I do not have nice feelings re-religion. You do you though!).

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Yes, and once again you’ll be reading for eternity. So I’ll sum it up as too many to list.

73. Favourite greek god?: Apollo.

74. A legend from where you live that you like: It’s said that before big disasters happen in the town I live in + the surrounding areas, that you’ll see a panther. Supposedly one has been seen before at least 4 different bad things that have happened over the years. I’m in the midwest though so take that as you will.

75. Do you like art?: I do but I don’t really have a favorite. ... I am kinda partial to Van Gogh though.

76. Can you share your other social media?: I have a Pinterest but since my other social media has my name (which I also share with an OC whoops. That’s what I get for being indecisive and going the first name the name generator gave me) I’d rather not. If you ask and we’re friends I’ll probably give it to you but...

77. Favourite youtubers?: I don’t really watch too many anymore but I’ve been watching a lot of jacksepticeye’s gameplay. Aside that I tend to just watch channels like PlayStation Access or Outsidexbox.

78. Favourite platform?: Instagram

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: More than I should, I’m sure.

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? Uh, if I had to list them all you’d literally be reading this for eternity. To sum it up, I mostly play RPGs/JRPGs, open-world, survival horror (my fave), and a few (emphasis on few) FPS. Favorites are (once again with a limit): Bioshock, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Until Dawn, Silent Hill 2, and Fatal Frame.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): do you know how f*cking hard this question is as someone who’s a bookworm? Ok, ok um... Gotta have a limit or I’ll never shut up... um... Three favorites: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, Horns by Joe Hill, and American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

82. Do you play board/card games?: On occasion! They’re best with bigger groups but alas, my apartment is rather small and I don’t have a lot of space for multiple people so I don’t play them often.

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? No, but it sounds fun.

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween!

85. Are you into dramas?: As in, tv dramas? Kinda? I have a friend on lived in SK for a time and got into K-dramas so I watch them with her from time-to-time when she visits.

Would you use a Death Note if you had one?: No.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Oh boy... make everyone get along, ensure everyone could live their life to the best possible, etc.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Possibly.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: I’m going with mythical instead of strictly paranormal but... a vampire!

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: As in to my body? Cremate me. To my stuff, give my books to a good home and take care of my bird.

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: Most people call me by my middle name already since I got tired of people calling me the wrong name (& I like my middle name better) and insisting my first name was actually a nickname (it’s not, it’s the same as the musician I’m named after) so if I were to eventually be bothered enough, I’d have it legally changed to my middle name.

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: I don’t know to be honest. I’m fairly happy with my life so I think I’d just not switch.

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: 🌊

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true: I took karate classes for several years, I’ve never dyed my hair, I’ve had two jobs thus far.

95. Cold or hot?: Cold I guess? If we’re talking in reference to seasons give me cool (aka Fall).

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero because being a villain would mean I’d have to be mean to people and I can’t even pick the mean options in video games without feeling guilty so...

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: um... no? I’m not quite certain what this means but I’m going to go with no?

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: Shapeshifting!

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immortal.

#get to know me #get to know siren #my face #please DON’T REBLOG #my apologies to anyone on mobile #i put a read more and it shows up if i view my blog in my web browser but isn’t showing when i view it in the app!

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