#kayla talks ><

[tommykinrd]

Brand-new, full throttle No onе's ever had me, not like you

For @nilefreemans ♡

[di-girls-dem-sugar]

he cant stay away

[apollos-favorite-child]

Open RP Starter!

Kayla was enjoying a day where she didn’t have to work at the infirmary. That got ruined quickly when she saw you though. “Oh gods. What the heck did you do??”

[raplinenthusiasts]

BTS x The Office

for @cordiallyfuturedwight 🫂

[mediumgayitalian]

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

[apollogies-p]

Everyone's twt profiles!

(I'm missing Percy, Cecil, Annabeth, Magnus, and Alex 😞)

@wrongcaitlyn

[kayluh1915]

House & Wilson in S7 E5: babysitting Rachel and baby-talking to her

Me in Google Docs immediately after:

Sneak peek here. 👀

[freddie-77-ao3]

Lee: I’m going to miss you will: I’m going to miss you too lee: will you be good for Michael when I’m gone? will: no lee: it was silly of me to ask will: I’ll be terrible Lee: I know will: I won’t listen to him will: kayla and austin and I will torture him Lee: I’m sure you will

[iamrizaka]

Will: I SWEAR TO HADES

Kayla: here he goes

Will: "I can shadow-travel" SHADOW TRAVEL MY ASS

Will: WHY IS HE SO STUPID, IM SURE IF I GO SHAKIN' HIM 'ROUND THERE WOULD BE NOTHIN' IN HIS HEAD BUT A DVD LOGO THAT NEVER HITS A CORNER

Will: THERE'S NOTHIN' TO EVEN RATTLE IN HIS HEAD

Lou: what did he do

Will: "hey will, I can show you a trick" "nico, please don't use your underworld powers" "watch me!" proceeds to summon about five skeletons in sombreros for three seconds and drops completely unconscious

Will: like, jc, if you have a brain (which I doubt he does), at least use it

Will: even Ares cabin was easier to deal with when I just became a medic! and they were refusing to stay in the infirmary for more than an hour!

Will: gods, give me patience

Austin: not strength?

Will: if gods gave me strength, you'd all be dead

Cecil: gotta admit- that is true

[wrongcaitlyn]

i sent this to @wronghuntress earlier but just decided i should share this here too bc i've been having a very specific tyt scenario in my head all day

kayla posts a tiktok to please please please at the "i beg you don't embarrass me motherfucker" with the caption of "me when introducing literally anyone to my brother's friends"

and then nico duets it with like half his face showing with the caption "what does this mean kayla phoebe knowles"

and yes i did literally come up with her middle name just for this specific scenario

[sprucestairs]

oops I have done it a third time.

more incorrect pjo quotes.

Malcolm: y'know, it's fine to admit you were wrong.

Nico, drinking coffee with salt in it: I just like the way that it tastes.

Castor: well, well, well. If it isn't the consequences of my actions.

Damien: swear words are illegal now. If you say one, you'll be fined.

Sherman: heck

Damien: you're on thin fucking ice.

Damien: oh no-

Connor: Annabeth likes to say "you can be part of the problem or part of the solution," but I happen to believe you can be both.

Annabeth: Christmas is cancelled.

Damien: you can't cancel a holiday.

Annabeth: keep it up, Damien, and you'll lose New Year's too.

Damien: what does that mean?

Annabeth: Will, take New Year's away from Damien.

*cut to Will scribbling furiously on a calendar*

Clovis: you know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Pollux: seize the day, seize the night, what's the last one?

Clovis: seize the dick.

Percy: hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon.

Kayla: cool.

Percy: do you know who Joe is?

Kayla: JOE MAMA!

Austin, not even looking up from his phone: damn, that backfired.

Lou Ellen: that's a crazy idea. Insane. It doesn't make sense.

Clarisse: you'll do it?

Lou: of course.

Katie: unpopular opinion; not all dogs are good boys.

Drew: blocked.

Katie: sometimes, they're good girls!

Drew: UNBLOCKED!

Percy: sometimes I’ll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.

[existential-life-crisis]

Happy birthday @wrongcaitlyn (and Percy)! Here's a little token of appreciation for your dedication to the fic and amazing writing. I will be doing more fanart at some point (not sure when tho) hopefully of better quality because I low key ran out of time on this, this is the first time im drawing most of these characters and am still getting used to digital art lol. I definitely underestimated how long it would take to draw 9 people. The cake is vanilla btw ;)

Also you're more than welcome to use my username for the fic :D

Just incase its unclear:

Apollo's Tshirt - delphi records logo I made (literally just a record with the symbol of delphi in the middle. Creative I know)

Kayla's Tshirt - USA archery (USA crossed out to say Canada)

Nico's Tshirt - a misprint of his tour shirt (all readable dates are infact accurate at least roughly)

Leo's Tshirt - unreadable but its star wars

Shel's Tshirt - superache by conan grey (the shirt we first see her in is the Nico tour one which she probably wouldnt wear around him so I picked a similar artist instead)

Fun fact about the art -

Austin is playing careless whisper (probably for the 3rd time) and the notes written are accurate! (to what google said anyway)

Credits for inspo -

@delicate-sketch - nico specifically (their curly hair guide is a god send i swear)

@/aqua.en.llamas on insta - will

@mariartesz_doodles on insta - piper

The cake I saw on pintrest but a lot of people have done it on there, not sure who the original was.

[swiftsuburbanlegends]

Guys I have seen the gifs, I have heard the line, I even saw it in a fic (yeah I was reading fic without being caught up sue me)

But the second second hand embarrassment of hearing Evan Buckley call himself an ally while fully on a date with a man... I was not prepared

[apollos-favorite-child]

she pops into the Apollo cabin both hands behind her back I got you something

@the-pretty-red-roses

AH- oh hey Alana! *She chuckled awkwardly, trying to smoothen her hair.*

A gift? What is it?

[kayla-2]

i dont get why feyre demolished her sisters apartment (+with all the other people there) and made her train, lock her up basically against her will with no escape except stairs which she could physically not do. Feyre had this massive ass breakdown when tamlin did the same to her. so why is she doing it to her sister. yes nesta had drinking problems and yes she was wasting money but don't act like feyre did anything to earn that money. they all live in velaris where nothing wrong goes on while other people in other parts of the court suffer and pay taxes because they arent seen as "dreamers" or wtv bs that is. personally i feel like nesta and feyre could have such a good relationship if rhys didnt keep coming in the middle of it. Also nesta's drinking problem was a problem but when the whole ic was drunk and im talking about mor when it says she's always drunk at rita's etc. so thats ok but when nesta does it, it's not?

i think each character could have had such a great story but sjm ruined it by going back on her own words. if acotar feyre saw acowar feyre she would murder herself. she became the thing she didnt want to be. its not even like any of the ic respect feyre. they hid the fact that she could die. thats so out of order because its feyre's body and she has the right to know. yes nesta told her out of her own spite but at least someone told her. and dont even get me started on acosf cassian because wtf was he even on.

sorry this was kind of me ranting. i would love to hear ur opinions on what i said and just ur thoughts in general (this isn't me sending hate btw) (it depends on my mood sometimes im anti ic sometimes im pro i think it depends on what specific media i see that day portraying those characters)

I don’t even think feyre should’ve helped n.esta, so I don’t know how to respond.

Feyre gave her an ultimatum, and she agreed to go to the house of wind. She wasn’t forced. Tamlin didn’t even speak to Feyre and abused her multiple times. It’s very irresponsible to compare the 2 situations as no one in the inner circle messed with N.esta like she asked until a year later and gave her unlimited money and her sisters tried to reach out and was pushed away. I know the fandom mysteriously forget n.etsas actions to vilify Feyre and the inner circle but I don’t.

Feyre wanted her train to help the powers that were tormenting her. I wish n.esta fans would actually understand her because you wouldn’t be upset about her training since lack of control is what was causing her pain. She ends up wanting to be trained and invited others because she didn’t want to feel weak anymore. Which she explicitly said like wtf?!?

She was drinking to escape and not dealing with her problems that different from causally drinking. If she had a job or money they wouldnt be able to do anything but Feyre has the right to say I’m not “funding anything that destroys you.” Which if you are a fan, why would you be upset??

Personally, Feyre did nothing wrong and n.esta would’ve died in that apartment if she didn’t do anything. Which she should not have. Especially since it’s bringing unnecessary hate to her. She’s not n.estas mom and don’t owe her anything. P.S it was not even n.estas apartment, she paid absolutely nothing and didn’t work. Why did feysand destroy their apartment they pay for?. They were already rebuilding old or destroyed buildings

[nockstormbringer]

Doing characters in order of cabin but I gotta keep the right person, wrong time couple together 🙏🙏

Fucking Greek tragedies 😭😭