#that there were people outside of percy jackson who were important in their own right

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter thirty | fine line

percy jackson x fem reader

There are silver streaks shared by Annabeth and Percy, scattered through their hair.

It’s something that will connect them forever, you know for certain. It’s a symbol of a shared strength.

It’s just one more thing to make your heart melt.

Realistically, you should feel nothing but proud of them both, and in your own way, you do. But there has been too much loss to feel any sort of good from the ending, and you can’t get Zoe Nightshade’s death from your mind.

“I can see the stars, my lady,” she whispered, so gently you’d barely heard her at all. The wound on her side gaped, and bled, the golden ichor of an immortal on her way out. An inch of a smile appeared on her face, struggling, before it dropped, and the light faded from Zoe Nightshade’s eyes. A wisp of silvery light lifted from her lips, drifting up into the air, before it, too, faded.

In the sky, the stars showed an image of a girl, running across the sky. Zoe Nightshade had, finally, found her peace.

Atlas was in his rightful place. His daughter had been stolen from the world. Luke Castellan was kicked to his death by Thalia’s action.

Except, they couldn’t find a body.

Body, upon body, upon body. They just kept piling up.

Bianca; Zoe; Luke. Lost lives; people who could have had so much more than they were given.

But Gods who couldn’t care any less.

And if you had to, you’d bet they didn’t even know their names.

You could see now, just why Luke was so angry. Because you felt it too. And it was terrifying.

“You don’t believe me about Luke,” Annabeth said, sounding faded amongst your thoughts. “We’ll see him again. He’s just under Kronos’s spell.”

Thalia jolted away, somehow seemingly unbothered by the height at which you travelled in the sky, Artemis in the lead. “There it is,” she pointed, sitting up. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Percy leaned forward, catching your hair between his hand on the seat he held onto. You didn’t say anything.

High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light. A mountain ablaze with torches and braziers.

“The Winter Solstice,” she breathed. “The Council of the Gods.”

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. The scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter filled your senses. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

You touched ground outside towering, silver gates, just inside the courtyard. Pegasi travel was rather terrifying, and you were much more than glad to be alive and on the ground. Olympus glowed with warm, the kind that settled in your bones. The warm wind, blowing from nowhere, shifted your hair when you clambered down to the ground.

“Yeah,” Percy muttered.

“Huh?”

Percy froze. “Uh—the horse. Sorry! Pegasi.”

A laugh escaped you, startling in the night. Thalia turned, eyebrow raised. “Why are you talking to a horse? It didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Haven’t I told you?” He averted his gaze.

“What,” you landed your hand on your hip, waving the other to the pegasi. “You talk to animals now, too, like Grover?”

“Just sea creatures. And horses. Pegasi, sorry!”

“Yeah, you’ll really have to explain that later,” you trailed off. “We’ve got more important matters at hand.”

The Pegasi flew off, leaving yourself, Percy, Thalia and your sister together. You liked to think, years later, laying on the glass floor of a ship, that you were all trying to gather the courage after everything to step inside the giant building, and face gods you had once only ever heard about in stories.

Side-by-side, you walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall. Under their judging eyes, despite your own mother being one of them, you were uncomfortable.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.

“Mooo!”

That was when you noticed Bessie and Grover, the latter standing at the side of a pool of water which Bessie swam in.

“Grover! You made it.”

He started to run towards your friends, then stopped, and looked back at Zeus, who up close, felt a lot scarier than he looked. You only realized then, that there was a major difference in terror of humans, and the intimidation of gods. You could deal with this kind.

“Go on,” Zeus nodded once. But he wasn’t looking at Grover—he was looking at Thalia.

None of the gods spoke. Grover’s hooves echoed on the marble floor, Bessie the Ophiotaurus mooing warmly at your arrival.

You took the time to observe the gods up close, because you might never get the chance to again. Artemis, looking as if she hadn’t ever even been hold hostage, watched the exchange between Percy and Grover. Percy’s father, Poseidon, dressed so casually you might have laughed in other circumstances, had this sort of barely-there smile on his face, bright eyes shining just the way Percy’s own did, too. Apollo, sunglasses covering his eyes, had his earbuds in, golden head of hair tilted back to the ceiling. And…

Ares. It was impossible to not feel him looking at you. Why the special interest, you wanted to ask. Do you see yourself in me? You wondered. Do I see myself in you?

Your eyes met his dark ones, a stark difference, between the extreme fatigue, and the colors. Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the tears you had shed since yesterday. He wore his signature black leather jacket, dark, dark hair being tousled by Aphrodite’s touch. When it was obvious her husband wasn’t looking at her, perched at his side, her love-ridden smile slowly fell away, and those sparkling eyes fell on you as well.

Or maybe it’s you, I see myself in. Too romantic. Too caught up in feelings. After all, you only had so much love to spare between friends, and the dead ones.

What do you see in me? You were desperate to ask, curiosity clawing at your chest. Why am I the way I am?

Gods sometimes took a special interest in heroes. All the tales told you so. You just had to wonder, what would come of this.

Ragged and bruised, you felt as though you were being picked apart under the watchful eyes of so many olympians.

You hadn’t realized Grover was doing the rounds until he yanked you into a hug. You found it in yourself to hug him back—at least he was still alive.

“Glad you made it,” you whispered.

“You too.” He nodded. Neither of you smelled amazing after this quest, but it went uncared for. A trouble shared is a trouble deeply understood.

“You have to convince them,” he said to the remaining four of you. “They can’t do it!”

“Do what?” You blinked.

“Heroes,” Artemis called. The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward your little group, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds,” Artemis spoke loudly, addressing everyone in a steady, clear tone. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the olympians, as if they weren’t all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

“At my Lord Zeus’s command,” Artemis said, “my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans’ cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes…”

She turned to face the other immortals.

And that, was the moment you saw your mother for the first time.

Dressed in a beautiful white dress, draped over one shoulder, her eyes, as gray as your own, as gray as Annabeth’s appeared lost in thought. You took the chance to just look at the woman you never thought you would meet.

“I gotta say—” Apollo cleared his throat. “These heroes did okay.” He began to recite. “Heroes win laurels—”

“Um, yes, first class,” Hermes interrupted with a side-eye in his brother’s direction. You were unable to help the smirk. “All in favor of not disintegrating them?”

A few tentative hands went up: Aphrodite, Demeter, Apollo—waving his iPod.

“Hang on a minute,” Ares growled, sitting up on his throne. He pointed at Thalia and Percy, on the other side of Annabeth. “These two are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”

Don’t say anything, you begged yourself. Even Annabeth elbowed you.

“Ares,” Poseidon interrupted. “They are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits.”

“Nor my daughter,” grumbled Zeus. “She has done well.”

You leaned forward around your sister, who visibly shook, pale, in need of a lie down from the looks of things. Thalia blushed—you grinned wickedly. All the things you could do with this moment in the future.

Athena cleared her throat. Annabeth sighed. The goddess leaned forward. “I am proud of my daughters, as well. But I agree—there is a security issue with the other two.”

Annabeth elbowed you a little too late, this time.

“Mother!” You exclaimed.

Your heart dropped and splattered on the ground. Never had you addressed her as such. And never had she looked you in the face the way she did now.

Too late to back out, now.

“How can you just—”

Athena cut you off with a girl, but calm look. “It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods…such as Thalia and Percy…are dangerous. As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point.”

“Right!” Ares said. “Hey, wait a minute. Who you callin’—”

He started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

“Oh, please, Ares,” Dionysus sighed. “Save the fighting for later.”

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. “You’re one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?”

Dionysus gazed wearily. “I have no love for them. Athena, do you really think it wise to destroy them?”

“I do not pass judgement,” she said. “I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide.”

“I will not have them punished,” Artemis cut in hotly. “I will have them rewarded. If we punish heroes who do us such a great favour, then we are no better than the titans, are we not? If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it.”

“Calm down, sis,” Apollo scoffed. “Chill. Jeez, you need to lighten up.”

“Don’t call me sis! I will reward them!”

“Well, perhaps. But the monster must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?”

“Bessie?” Percy burst out. “You want to destroy Bessie?”

Your heart swelled. Gosh, he cared. It was lovely.

And then you wanted to slap yourself.

What was up with the emotions lately?

Poseidon frowned. “You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?”

“Dad,” Percy said. “He’s just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can’t destroy him.”

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably, a trait Percy shared with him, you noted. “Percy, it’s power is considerable. If the titans were to steal it, or—”

“You can’t,” Percy insisted.

Zeus opened his mouth, looking as though he was getting antsier by the second. But you had experience with this sort of thing that needed a good negotiation, so you cut in.

“Controlling the prophecies never works. Isn’t that true?” You tried, stepping forward. All eyes landed on you, and you swallowed. “Have we not just experienced it? Are we not experiencing it now? The Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It’s as wrong as Kronos eating his children just because of something they might do.”

Zeus looked to be considering it. You breathed heavily, in a mild panic after consulting the king of the gods head on. If he wanted to, you could be zapped out of existence in less than a second.

“And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast’s entrails you would have the power to destroy all of us. Do you think we can let this possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn sixteen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says.”

“You have to trust them,” you tried, pleading with your eyes. “Please, you have to trust them.”

Zeus scowled. “Trust a hero?”

“She is right,” Artemis nodded slowly. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one, but first, father Zeus, I must speak with you privately.”

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward, leaning to listen as she whispered to him.

“Annabeth,” Percy whispered from behind you. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if—I don’t want you to—”

Artemis turned. “I will have a new lieutenant, if she will accept it. Thalia, daughter of Zeus, will you join the Hunt?”

Your jaw almost dropped. Stunned silence filled the room.

“I will,” Thalia said firmly. She moved to your side, and then a little bit further ahead. Confident.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. “My daughter, consider well—”

Don’t let him change your mind, you prayed. Hold your ground.

“Father, I will not turn sixteen tomorrow,” she shook her head. “I will never turn sixteen. I won’t let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will not tempt me again.”

She knelt down before Artemis, and repeated the same words Bianca had uttered what felt like years ago at the cliff side in the snow and weary sunlight.

When she had finished, she hugged each of you and said a few words. You felt awkward, putting your hands into your coat pockets, when Thalia stood in front of you. For once, there was no spiteful comments from either one of you. She smiled small, looking rejuvenated the same way Bianca had, as if the quest had never happened.

“You’re a good friend,” she nodded. “You’re brave. You’ve got what it takes to help them with this prophecy.” And then she leaned in, and hugged you just as she had with Annabeth and Grover and Percy. “Trust yourself.”

Thalia went and stood with Artemis, and the atmosphere changed instantly.

“Now, for the Ophiotaurus.”

“The boy is still dangerous,” Mr. D. opposed. The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”

“No.” Percy said firmly. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here. But you have to protect him.”

“And why should we trust you?”

“I’m only fourteen. If this prophecy is about me, that’s only two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena uttered. “Much can change in two years, young hero. It is only the truth. It is bad strategy to keep the boy alive. And the animal.”

Poseidon stood. “I will not have the creature destroyed if I can help it. And I can, help it.”

He held out his hand, and a spear shimmering with blue light appeared. “I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You won’t take it under the sea!” Zeus stood suddenly. “I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon sighed.

Zeus’s lightening bolt appeared in his hand, and the whole room filled with the smell of ozone.

“Fine,” Poseidon nodded. “I will build an aquarium for the sea creature here, with the help of Hephaestus. The creature will be safe. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor.”

Zeus thought about it. “All in favor?”

A dozen hands went up, besides Mr. D, your mother’s, and Ares just sat looking bored.

“We have a majority. And so, since we are not destroying these heroes, I imagine we should reward them.”

—

There are parties, and then there are Olympian parties. And Olympian parties are filled with gold and beautiful colours, exotic flowers and the Muses music, braziers of fire, and delicious food and drinks. It became busy very quickly, and before you knew it, you found yourself stumbling into a corner to get yourself together. All you wished to do was go to your cabin and cry. To let it all out.

“This doesn’t look like you’re partying.”

“What the hell are you? A spy? Just leave me alone.” You shoved yourself further into the corner just away from all the partying, a quiet corridor devoid of anything but cold marble and tall, golden ceilings.

Ares hummed lowly. You didn’t have to see him, shoved into the corner like a child, but you knew he was just on the other side of it.

“I’ll let you off just this once, demigod.”

You rolled your eyes. The marble edges dug into your back uncomfortably from how hard you were trying to disappear for a few minutes. “What do you want? Spit it out.”

“If you weren’t her’s, I would say you’re one of mine. You’ve got the fire, I’ll give you that. And my wife has taken a special interest in you and that boy. Her business is my business, you’ll understand. Since you’re her business, now, you’re my business, too.”

You wanted to scream at him to leave, to go away so you could breathe for five minutes. But…you really wanted to know what he had to say. Curiosity always got the better of you.

“I don’t want to be anybody’s business,” you settled on, weakly. “I’m my own person.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m just here to pass along a message.”

“Which is?”

“She says, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

“Oh, really?”

You shoved away from the corner, and paused.

He’d already gone.

—

Making your way back into the crowd was the last thing you wanted to do, but it would be best to show your face for a little while. Eventually you made your way back to Percy. He smiled as you popped up next to him, and then slowly frowned. His green eyes glistened under all the lights.

“You’ve been crying,” he reached up, and then lowered his hand, unsure of what to do.

You laughed pitifully. “Yeah.”

Because, really, what more could you say? It was rather obvious. And you sounded as if you’d just developed the world’s worst cold and stuffy nose.

Percy still stared at you, concerned. It was touching, really.

“I’m just tired.” You nodded. “I promise. When we get back to camp you might not see me for a couple weeks. I’m about to fall off the face of the earth in sleep mode.”

He smiled, tight-lipped, those eyes dancing across your face. For the first time ever under Percy’s eyes, you felt self-conscious.

“I’ll clean up later. My dad always says I look like I’ve just done thirty rounds of coke after crying. It’s funny because it’s true,” you tried lightly.

Percy’s dark curls shook. “No,” he denied. “I think you look…I think you look pretty—uh—I mean—”

Your heart jumped into your throat, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Because AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Uhm—” you frantically tried for something to do; hair behind your ears, leaning back and forth on your heels. “Thank you. Thanks.” Heat flooded your cheeks. Percy was already scarlet in the face, nodding frantically, avoiding your eyes.

When you looked up, Athena watched from a distance, and then looked away, as if she hadn’t been interested at all. But you weren’t about to let her ruin what just happened—Percy called you pretty.

“I was thinking,” he shoved out. You turned your head, blinking expectantly. “I owe you a dance, don’t I? We got interrupted at Westover Hall, right?”

This time, you allowed yourself to smile, your heart and lungs expanding.

“Right.” You took his hand, shaking.

The music played on, a gentle tune of the future, the past, and the present.

—

Chiron greeted you all at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off to his satyr friends, telling them all about his brief experience with Pan.

Annabeth, Percy and yourself sat with Chiron by the fire. A couple of others joined you, too—Clarisse, back from a quest of her own it seemed. Her hair was cut short, like somebody had hacked it with scissors without a care, and there was a jagged scar on her chin. For once, she kept quiet.

“I got news,” she said glumly. “Bad news.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Chiron said with forced cheerfulness. “The important thing is you’ve prevailed. And you’ve saved Annabeth!”

The Stoll brothers were there, too. You hadn’t even looked Travis in the eye. The high of the short dance with Percy had worn off, that tiny spark of normality had gone, and left you with the sadness you’d been feeling before it. You struggled with getting Bianca and Zoe’s deaths from the front of your mind, and Thalia’s moving on. Everybody was leaving, it felt like. And everybody was too happy for what had happened along the way.

Percy, sitting next to you in front of the fire, felt the same. You could tell by the sheer look of something bordering on a deep sadness he had.

You didn’t speak.

Annabeth talked about Atlas, and where she had been kept. She yawned the whole way through, still shaking with weakness even after some ambrosia.

Chiron’s positivity spread a little bit to you tired campers, but in the end, the unwavering need to go somewhere and cry won. You set down your mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. Another chair scratched the floor behind you, as you walked away toward the fields.

“Let her be,” you heard Chiron utter. “She needs time.”

You heard happy babbling just as you wandered away, boyish, childish talking. You looked to the left, and there was Nico di Angelo, two figurines in hands, talking to himself the way children tend to do. Every organ in your body twisted painfully, and you got away before he could see you. You couldn’t be the one to tell him Bianca was long gone. You still didn’t want to believe it yourself.

The air was bitter cold, your fingertips numb already. Snow fell lightly as you wandered into where you probably shouldn’t have been. You didn’t get far until his voice caught you up.

“Scout?”

You stopped, the snow crunching quietly. Behind you, Travis grew closer until he was right in front of you. You hadn’t even realized how tall he’d gotten until you saw him again, like seeing him in a different light.

Bundled in a red sweater and jeans, a coat and scarf atop of that, he still shivered.

“I just need to go for a walk. I’ll be alright later.” You shrugged.

Silence captured the air. Until he said, “Chiron…mentioned what happened to Nico’s sister. And the Hunter girl. Zoe. I’m—I’m so sorry.”

The first tear fell without any effort. And then you grew too cold too quickly. And crumbled.

He enveloped you instantly, as if without thought—like the action would be unknown, to hesitate in your arms. Against his warm, soft chest, Travis’s heart beat gently against your ear, his hands coming up carefully to your back, to your shoulder.

Safety.

And at the end of it—Travis.

You allowed yourself the tears. Your hands scrunched at his shirt. He smelled of the outside weather, of wind

of life.

—

PAIN. So, we’ve reached the end of Titans Curse! How are we feeling so far about relationships and eve thing? Feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles

if they’re not highlighted, it wouldn’t let me tag you!

this chapter’s quite short. I didn’t want to drag it out too much.

aaaaand I’ve added a few more songs to the playlist (on my profile if you don’t have it saved!) if you want to give them a listen. thanks for reading!

[aryxchse]

I just read your Percy Jackson x daughter of Persephone fic and I really would like to read one for daughter of Hekate.

I mean you still have me questioning my Cabin but for the sake of all those years that I was daughter of Hekate, I would love to read Percy Jackson x daughter of Hekate from you.

casted a spell on me / percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader.

a / n : my wife y'all 👆🏻

warnings : cursing

- percy wanted to gift hazel a special crystal for her birthday

- but he never really understood the girl, nor the crystal things

- so which cabin everyone visits when stuff like this happens?

- the hecate cabin.

- you were the only one left in cabin when percy barged in

- while you were cleansing (?) your room

- "hello?"

- "i am so sorry- should i leave? am i intrupting something?"

- you shrugged him off with a laugh, saying that it's not important enough for him to leave

- and he happily stayed

- "you.. know hazel right?"

- "duh, she's my ride or die."

- and everything began like this

- there was 2 weeks until hazel's birthday and percy decided to use that time wisely

- and he was kinda glad that he started working early

- because, he get to spend time with you

- man he's already whipped, look at you doing magical stuff and casting a spell on the boy

- the last part was percy's own delusion but yeah, you could turn him into a pig and he would be thankful

- "you could gift her tarot cards as a bonus, she's interested in those."

- "...show me."

- this boy knows NOTHING

- and when you read his cards he was gasping like a little girl

- hes so amazed by you omg

- you could make up something for the uno cards and he would scream 'this girl fucking rocks!!'

- did i said hes whipped? do i have to??

- anyways back on hazel's birthday gift mission

- since you ran out from hazel's favorite crystals, somehow, you both got the chance to shop outside in the mortal world!!!!

- it was a perfect first date in percy's head

- he's asking you personal questions like which crystal is best for your aura or smth

- sneaky bastard

- you guys shopped together until night and lost your dessert for the week

- but who cares? it was the best date

- people saw percy leave with a different crystal each time after visiting your cabin

- you got this boy wear crystals for lucky charm

- he joked that he only needed you for luck but anyways-

- the mission was complete eventually

- but percy didn't left your side even after hazel's birthday

- you guys are ment to be together now okay?? it says that on your birth chart

- your zodiacs are matching too

- shut up you made him a manifest queen

- he lets you draw symbols on his arms for some reasons you came up with

- hes scared you're really making him obsessed with you, because of the amount of times you're in his head, is embarresing

- and he needed to make you his

- like immediatly

- or else he'll go crazy from his love

- maybe you did cast a spell-

- "i think i learned how to read your cards."

- when he said that in one of his regular visits, you couldn't help but get curious

- did he actually learned that fast?

- so you gave him your cards and picked a few, he started looking at them like he knew something

- it said that something will happen good this week

- but instead, percy said

- "you're in love with a raven haired boy aren't you?"

- you tried so hard not to laugh

- and it was true, so you let him play his game

- "oh my gods! how did you know?"

- he literally smirked

- "i'm a natural pretty."

- he started to look more, and told you to pick two more cards

- you could already see what it meant, but you were curious what he will say

- "hmm, this guy has gorgeous sea green eyes, man you have taste!"

- a snort left your lips but you quickly gathered yourself

- "can you see any initials??"

- "oh totally! the lovers card is upside down so it means p and j."

- you were turning red from holding your laugh at this point, and he started to get a feeling that you figured what he was doing

- no shit sherlock

- "how weird, doesn't that ring any bells to you too? or is it just me?"

- "maybe it's that hot dude called percy jackson?"

- "OHHHH yes!! i knew i remembered that initials from somewhere!!"

- you both burst into laughters

- "my dear student, i see you payed attention to my classes!"

- he laughed at your tease until he finally managed to answer

- "being in love with you helped."

- smooth, jackson. smooth.

[elkian]

HP Alternatives

A lot of the discussions around H*rry P*tter right now are centered around shutting down all interest. The series was really important or at least entertaining to a lot of people for a pretty long time, so just excising it from one’s life can make for a big gap. Here’s some other works and series that might help fill that:

Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia Wrede:

Follows a group of genre-savvy princess, dragon, prince, and witch who live in/around the titular Enchanted Forest, where a lot of Fairy Tale stuff tends to happen. The first book has a dragon on the cover so I snapped it up, and was glad I did! Very fun and easy to get into. Generally slanted towards younger viewers, but still a ton of fun regardless of the age you’re reading at.

Tortall and Circle of Magic series by Tamora Pierce:

Pierce’s writing has only gotten more diverse over time, and its lent a lot of depth to her works! The Lioness series was where I started, where a girl swaps places with her twin brother so she can earn a knight’s shield in a time when women aren’t allowed to be knights; this has a ripple effect throughout the rest of the Tortall series(es?), each sub-series focusing on a different protagonist - like animal-speaker runaway Daine, or followup knight aspirant Kel. Circle of Magic is about four kids whose lives have been turned upside down, with each book typically focusing on a different one of the four before coming back together, as they navigate losses, found family, enormous catastrophes, and learning their own (and each others’) powers. Largely YA-oriented while still willing to engage with complex issues and allow characters to be flawed and nuanced!

Discworld series by Terry Pratchett:

Like Pierce, you can see Pratchett actively increase diversity as the series goes on, with one of the last Discworld books focusing on goblins, who were written off as a sort of joke species early on; Pratchet choosing to focus on them, their rich inner lives, and how they’re treated by other species in the world ties neatly into his own previous dismissal. Aside from that, expect witches and wizards and those in between, dwarves navigating both surface dwelling and what exactly gender is, enmity between peoples for both very valid and very ridiculous reasons, and an assortment of anticapitalism, antimonarchism, etc. The first few books are a tough place to start - everyone has their own recommendations. I’d say Going Postal (about a conman who now has to deal with Real Life Consequences and topples the capitalist upper class in the process) or Monstrous Regiment (about a girl pulling a Mulan to get her brother back, and learning the truth behind chest-beating patriotism and machismo) are decent starting points. The core series is a bit more “adult” than the previous recommendations, but still really accessible.

The Tiffany Aching subseries (starting with The Wee Free Men) is technically more YA-slanted, but never talks down to its audience and can be easier to get into. Alternately, I can suggest Nation, a standalone book that exists outside of the Discworld series entirely, but is a really good example of the kind of writing you’ll see at Pratchett’s peak or thereabouts. He has a very particular writing style, so Nation is a good litmus for if you’re going to enjoy his work or not.

Honorable Mentions:

The Percy Jackson Series - I never read past the first book, but the first one was pretty good and I know it’s popular, though not without its own issues (specifically treatment of Indigenous American characters?).

The Eragon Series - I was never able to finish this (maybe someday!) but I do recall it being pretty interesting. Can’t speak to the politics in any fashion, it’s been a long time since I read it.

This is a starter pack.

I don’t have the time, attention, or ability to list every fantasy series under the sun, but I think these hit close to how reading the HP books (long before this all happened) felt. Feel free to add your own!

(This is the answer to “why didn’t you mention-” ☝)

[introspectivememories]

this take is kinda old but whatever

[aspoonfuloffiction]

After seeing the casting Leah Jeffries for Annabeth Chase I was as most fans were pretty freaking excited (ignoring the racist rabble).

Annabeth Chase is one of the best written female characters is children’s/YA fiction. She’s a character I have loved for well over a decade and having the role played by a black woman is going to be beautiful representation.

However it made me think of the other time a heroine from a prominent children’s series was cast as black woman.

In the Cursed Child (a show that I admittedly have not seen because if this isn’t clear I hate JKR) Hermione Granger was cast a black woman. And yet that casting felt hollow and gave me none of the excitement that the casting announcement for Annabeth did.

And I’ve been trying to figure out why.

Part of it is I’m sure my feelings about Rick Riordan vs JKR. Say what you will about Rick Riordan’s writing-it’s not perfect far from it at times. But the work he’s put in both in his books but more importantly to me outside of them-in how he gives POC writers a platform to succeed and champions and promotes their work. That’s admirable to me (It doesn’t have to be to you! Everyone’s feelings are their own and completely valid). Meanwhile I genuinely think if I met JKR I would tell her to lick rust.

And so partially the casting of Annabeth as a black woman feels like an authentic effort for positive representation because it is supported by the values of this franchise as perceived by me.

Whereas Hermione in the Curse Child feels disingenuous with Joanne’s previous writing, interviews, and actions. It doesn’t matter how many times JKR tweets this I don’t believe her:

(also she’s lying she did specify Hermione as a white woman)

But thats not all of it.

Part of what makes Leah as Annabeth such a big deal is the massive audience of this show and how big of a deal this show has the potential of being.

Reports of it having a budget comparable to or exceeding those of Disney+’s MCU and Star Wars projects have been circulating for months. It is Disney’s biggest investment in original programming that isn’t a part of a bigger cinematic universe. And the success of Percy Jackson and the Olympians has massive implications for what Disney+ will look like going forward. It’s also highly anticipated and widely accessible. With the potential of years of storytelling ahead of it.

And the powers that be for this project cast a young black girl to play the main female lead. That feels important authentic and a genuine effort for positive visible representation.

Meanwhile the Cursed Child is barely considered canon to HP fans, most of whom cannot even see it. It’s only accessible to theater going audiences who skew, based on data, predominantly white and predominantly older. So the people that most feel represented by Hermione as a black woman will more likely than not be unable to see the show.

If they had cast Hermione as black in the movies this would be a different story. But they didn’t. When it came to the movies- they cast a white girl. How committed is this brand actually in investing in media representation? I don’t think all that much.

Anyway stan Leah Sava Jeffries. Who based on how much Annabeth she EXUDES in this picture I know is going to do a phenomenal job and cautionary (this is Disney after all) snaps to Rick Riordan and creatives at Disney+ for doing the thing and taking a massive step in the right direction for positive representation in entertainment.

[yellowocaballero]

Percy Jackson meets a Landlord, a Tax Accountant, and a Tree Growing in Brooklyn

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one.  

Short fic that I am considering extending into a much, much longer fic. Thank you Ami for the translation of the card (I would definitely translate it yourself, it’s important). The entire backstory and premise of the AU isn’t immediately apparent, but if I extend the fic it’ll be more explained (spoiler: Luke Castellan, age 14, said fuck Olympus and moved all of Camp Half-Blood into Brooklyn to live in a child-run utopia). I haven’t reread Percy Jackson since I was 10, I barely remember anything that happens or any of the characters, so don’t expect much - but aren’t the best children’s novels the children’s novels that live in our head, anyway?

Rest under the cut. 

2005

180 Olive Apartments was a dump. Batman said so.

Batman felt very strongly about this, and as a result Percy did too. It was not Percy’s own, private, personal opinion. Batman informed Percy that the apartment complex was shabby, gross, not in Staten island, and smelled weird. Batman made a very convincing argument that they should live in Staten Island instead, which Percy had done his best to relay to Mom. Mom hadn’t been impressed. 

“This is the best place for us, Percy,” Mom had said, with that pinched look on her face. It was the ‘Percy’s Making My Life Really Hard’ face. Percy had been seeing that face a lot lately. “Let’s just try to make this work, please?”

There was no ‘best place’ for them, and Percy and Batman knew that. But that was another thing Mom didn’t want to hear. 

So Percy had suffered in stoic silence as Mom dragged him out of the motel, made him miss the new episode of Pokemon, and forced him to ride the subway forty minutes into smelly Brooklyn so he could sit in this smelly chair outside of some smelly office in a smelly apartment. From inside the office, Percy could hear the faint rise and fall of voices: Mom’s, light and lyrical and very polite to people who were not Percy; and some landlord guy. His voice was really light and high too, but he was probably a real jerk.

Percy was so bored he could die. He sat up on his knees, turning around so he could prop his elbows against the dusty windowsill with grimy frosted glass. He plopped Batman down on the dirty windowsill, smearing his chipped feet through the tracks of dust. Parkour. He unzipped his pocket and grabbed his slightly dusty Golduck rubber toy, putting it in front of Batman. Golduck was from McDonald’s, so it had a bad attitude. 

Percy waggled Batman. You have a bad attitude, Golduck. You can’t live in my house anymore, because you get water all over the tile and you make the wood go bad. 

Golduck jiggled when Percy shook him. It wasn’t Golduck’s fault that the water went everywhere! Water just goes places sometimes. Golduck was a water type, so water followed him around and got into wood and made the wood go bad and made other people mad at him. It’s not Golduck’s fault, so don’t make him move!

I don’t want to hear it, Batman said. I’m going to make you live in a crummy motel and make your Mom go on a lot of boring websites looking for new places to live. The motel’s bananas are going to taste weird. Mom’s going to cry a lot. And it’ll be all your fault because you’re a bad kid. 

“Golduck, use hydro pump!” Percy whispered. He moved Golduck so he hit Batman on the chest, and then hit Batman a few more times for good measure. “Die, landlord!”

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing with toys?”

Percy almost fell out of his chair. 

He twisted his torso around, looking behind him with wide eyes. But the only person there was a white girl, no older than him. She was wearing a really severe expression to match her tight little blonde ponytail, and she was carrying a clipboard in both hands. There was a piece of string tacked to the clipboard, with a pen tied around one end. She looked like she asked the school librarian if she could help shelve books. 

Percy decided instantly that she hated him, so he decided to hate her back. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be doing your taxes?” Percy sneered. “Buzz off.”

That made her mad. The girl’s angelic little chubby face twisted in rage, and her grip on the clipboard turned threatening. “I’m accounting the chores! And I could do taxes if I wanted!”

“Yeah?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Name one tax.”

“Sales tax,” the girl said instantly. 

Damn. She got that one. Percy just rolled his eyes instead, sitting back down on his seat and stuffing his toys in his cargo pocket. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, even if he knew that he wasn’t too old to play with Batman and Golduck. What did tax accountants know, anyway. 

The girl sniffed, and made a show of inspecting the grimy windowsill and carefully making a note on her clipboard. Her pen had a pom-pom at the end. Percy bet she made hearts over the top of her ‘i’s. 

“Nick’s been slacking,” the girl muttered threateningly. “I’m surrounded by incompetents.”

“Why is it Nick’s job to clean the leasing office?” Percy asked, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a janitor for that?” Was Nick the janitor? If this pinched-face little girl was harassing cleaning staff then Percy was going to file a complaint.

But the girl just looked surprised, as if the idea of having a janitor was foreign and strange. “No janitor would even make it through the doors.” But then her eyes narrowed, as if a thought just occurred to her. “Wait. How did you…”

However Percy did what, he would never know. The door to the leasing office cracked open, and Percy scrambled off his seat in excitement. The girl stood stiffly at attention, clipboard on her hip, as Mom stepped out of the office. She looked very tired, but weirdly relieved.

There was a man right behind her, just as white and blonde as the girl. Percy wasn’t surprised: he could pick out a real ‘daughter-of-the-manager’ type right away. The man didn’t look like every other landlord Percy had ever seen - no moustache, for one - and he didn’t look old enough for the part anyway. He wasn’t old, but he definitely wasn’t an elementary schooler. He had a broad, honest face, but he was too muscular and strong looking and landlordey to be trustworthy. 

 Percy decided the weird landlord, with a mop of yellow hair like golden thread and a scary eyebrow with one long scar cutting straight through, was twenty five years old. Clearly the result of nepotism in the landlord industry.

Mom smiled when she saw Percy, who quickly pasted on his most innocent expression. Her eyes caught on the girl, who was glaring daggers at him. The landlord’s eyes caught on Percy’s own wrinkled nose. “Percy, good! Are you making friends?”

It was not an innocent question. It was a ‘please don’t ruin this for me too, Percy’ question. It was a ‘I’m very tired and I need you not to make things hard’ question. Percy was well acquainted with them. But maybe the girl was too, because when the landlord looked at the girl she also abruptly quailed. “I hope you’re being a good host, Annabeth.”

The unfortunately named Annabeth and Percy glanced at each other in silent and instant understanding. 

“Yeah, Annabeth’s really fun!” Percy said instantly. He was not going to ruin this for Mom again. Or, at least, he would try to hold off ruining it for her as long as possible. Even if this stupid apartment wasn’t in Staten island. “She was telling me about -”

“Taxes!” Annabeth said smoothly, a much better liar than Percy. “And Percy was telling me about Batman.”

They both looked very cute and very low matinence on command, the perfect picture of children who did not make their moms live in motels. 

Percy was rewarded when Mom smiled in relief. She put a hand on Percy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I’m so glad. Percy, this is Mr. Castellan. Why don’t you say hi?”

“Hi Mr. Castellan,” Percy said obediently. “My name’s Percy Jackson, I’m in third grade.”

The landlord smiled at him with closed and tight lips, but it was Annabeth who spoke in interest. “Percy like Percival, King Arthur’s knight who searched for the Holy Grail?”

Uh, whatever? “Percy like the Greek hero Perseus,” Percy said shortly. “But I’m not Greek. My Grandma was from Guadalajara.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. She glanced at the landlord, whose expression was impossible to read. “Are you sure?”

“I know where my own grandmother is from!”

“She didn’t say that you didn’t, sweetie,” Mom said, and Percy guiltily shut up. “Percy, why don’t you and Mr. Castellan talk in his office for a little while? I have to fill out some paperwork, and I think you two have a lot to talk about.”

Percy looked up at her with wide eyes. Mom never left him alone with strangers. And paperwork already? “Are we moving in today?”

“You two talk for a bit,” Mom said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”

When Percy was pushed into Mr. Castellan’s office it felt more like he was a Roman Christian being tossed into the lion’s den in punishment for heresy. And when Mom settled him into an uncomfortable and weird-smelling chair in front of the teetering desk and kissed him on the temple before leaving the office, he abruptly felt like he had jumped into Grandma’s book of Bible Stories. 

Mr. Landlord’s office was as dirty and run-down as the rest of the complex. The big box AC rattled with clinks and whirrs as it shuddered against the sticky summer heat, and the landlord’s desk was covered in thick stacks of paper and chewed-up pencils. When he sat back down behind the stained wood, the chair seemed just a little too big for him. He sunk strangely in it, the vinyl flaking off and floating into the ground. There were a lot of crayon drawings taped to the wall, and there was a light dusting of crumpled post-it notes on the ground. 

Mr. Landlord tried to smile at Percy. Tried being the operative word: when he smiled it was too thin and without teeth, more pained than reassuring. It didn’t reach his watery blue eyes. 

Percy hunched on the rickety chair. This guy set off every alarm bell he had, which was plenty. And no, it wasn’t just because he was a guy, Ms. Brown. For added security and self defense, Percy casually slid a capped ballpoint pen on the old desk in front of him into his sleeve. Batman was always prepared, and Percy was too. He can hack up any creepy guy and protect Mom any day of the week. 

The landlord smiled wider, even worse. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Luke Castellan, and I’m the supervisor here. Running into Annabeth first thing’s pretty bad luck, huh?” At Percy’s unimpressed eyebrow, he quickly added, “Annabeth keeps the whole place running, really. She’s...pretty convinced that this complex rests on her eight year old back, so she’s a little stressed out all the time. If she gets frustrated at you, don’t take it personally, okay?”

So she does help shelve books. Percy was a keen judge of character. “Why does she do it? You can’t make her be the superintendent. That’s child labor.”

Luke Castellan stared at Percy unblinkingly. He blinked about as often as a snake, but five times as quickly: as if he didn’t want to let you out of his sight for even a second. Finally, he said, “I’m fifteen.”

Percy gave Mr. Luke the stink-eye, clearly communicating that he did not trust even fifteen year olds (who were high schoolers, and even less trustworthy than adult-adults) as far as he could throw them. Especially fifteen year olds like Luke: who were too tall, with too-mature eyes and a particularly unhappy expression. Percy communicated perfectly that there was nothing trustworthy about this family of juvenile landlords, but he was just too polite to say so. 

But that just made Mr. Luke sigh, as if he was tired instead of angry. “Annabeth’s my...ward, I guess. I just look after her. But she doesn’t like being looked after, so she makes up for it by looking after everyone else. I’m not saying I do a good job.”

He’s a landlord and he has a ward? Percy finally perked up. “So you’re like Batman?”

Mr. Luke stared at him unblinkingly, before finally saying, “Yes, except Batman doesn’t have superpowers.”

Percy had the sense he was being made fun of. “You don’t have super powers,” he accused, crossing his arms. “Nobody has super powers.”

Mr. Luke smiled, wan and weak. “Not even you, Percy?”

Percy froze. 

Five seconds too late, Percy made himself laugh stupidly. People were quick to believe that Percy was stupid, and sometimes Percy helped them think that. It got him out of trouble sometimes - not always, but enough that it was useful. “If I had superpowers, I’d run super fast everywhere just like the Flash!”

But Mr. Luke just hummed, and flipped through some of the papers in a folder in front of him. Percy abruptly began sweating. Mom had given him those papers. They were records. This was like every time a principal had drawn up ‘proof’ against him in a court of law. “Your mom said that you both had to move out of your Queens apartment because it flooded.”

“I didn’t unscrew the taps,” Percy said reflexively. “They just came loose! I didn’t even touch them! I didn’t touch the boiler either!”

“The boiler?” Mr. Luke flipped back a few pages. “Oh, right. Your school.”

Percy slouched in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, stewing. He always sounded guiltiest when he denied it. He should go back to playing dumb. Pretend that he had no idea what water was. He had gotten away with it when he was six during that one birthday party at the aquarium, but something about being a third grader meant that people expected that you have basic observational skills. 

It was stupid. There was no way to win. If he said that he didn’t do it then he sounded guilty. If he tried to point out how it was impossible for him to break the boiler and destroy the gym or whatever, using facts and logic and a rhetorical argument like the Youtube videos taught him, then they just told him he was making excuses. Sometimes Percy had the impression that everybody just wanted him to supervillain cackle like the Joker and brag about how terrible he was. Maybe he’d give that a shot once he entered middle school. It seemed like an evil teenage thing to do. 

Percy Jackson was a liar, a thief, a cheat, a menace, and a bad kid. There was nothing more to be: not for someone like Percy. 

But Mr. Luke didn’t threaten him, or give him ‘one last chance’ or anything. He just leaned forward, hands folded on the desk. His thumb was worrying at a small starburst scar on his hand, betraying a strange nervousness. 

“Percy, can I talk to you man-to-man?”

Percy, who did not like men, squinted at Mr. Luke suspiciously. “Why.”

“Because this isn’t a topic for a kid. It’s a topic that...kills children, and turns them into little adults. I wish I didn’t have to broach it with you. But I think that you haven’t been a kid for a long time, Percy, and I don’t want to insult you by pretending otherwise.” Mr. Luke frowned, and Percy found himself involuntarily straightening. What was he talking about? “You were right. There was no way for you to have flooded your apartment, much less twice. There was no way for you to ruin your gym, or damage that aquarium. Much less...everything else in your file. No kid is that much of a miniature hurricane when he isn’t even trying. It sucks. It’s not your fault. And now your Mom’s credit score is so bad that she can’t afford another apartment. If it wasn’t for the fact that she saw our really generous listing in the paper, she would have had to move you two away from her home.”

She was thinking of moving them both to New Jersey. Percy’s lips tightened, and he knew that Mr. Luke saw it. 

“This is an apartment building that provides shelter to a lot of special cases, just like you. It’s...full of kids who break things when they don’t mean to. Kids with a parent couldn’t handle them, or who couldn’t protect them. We have a lot of ways to keep families like yours safe, and to give you a home.”

Percy stared at Mr. Luke. He seemed deadly serious, as serious as anybody had ever been to Percy, despite the crazy stuff he was saying. Safe? Safe from what?

Safe from those weird, giant dogs that chased Percy and tore off half his jeans? Safe from that old lady in the deli with the slobbering bag and beady eyes? Safe from broken water pipes, from ruined floors and busted walls, from Percy himself? 

Finally, all Percy could think to ask was, “How do you know that I’m a special case?”

“Because not just anyone could see that listing,” Mr. Luke said. “And - uh, no offense - but you are one of the most obviously inhuman children I’ve met in my life.”

Percy’s jaw dropped in complete, unadulterated rage, and without even stopping to think through his actions he withdrew the ballpoint pen from his pocket. He uncapped it, fully intending on doing something dramatically yet harmlessly violent with it, but he didn’t get the chance. 

The ballpoint pen turned into a gleaming bronze and silver sword. Percy screamed. Percy fell out of his chair. Percy did not get the opportunity to look cool and dangerous at all.

****

And now Percy had Greek god stuff to worry about!

Didn’t Percy have enough problems? He couldn’t stay in a school, they couldn’t keep an apartment, their new landlord didn’t blink enough, and now he was the kid of a Greek god? Apparently he had been spending his entire life running from monsters and he just hadn’t noticed? That explained the stupid scary dog!

Percy knew much more about Greek gods than the average kid, since Mom was a huge fan. Yeah, Mom! Apparently you were a big fan! Jesus, Mom!

What’s this dumb stuff about Poseidon! That had freaked out Mr. Luke, and made him ask a lot of questions like ‘are you sure’ and ‘there’s a lot of minor gods who like to pass themself off as someone more impressive to mortals’. Then Annabeth, who had been listening at the door like a sneak and who ran in all heroically when he almost accidentally stabbed Mr. Luke, freaked out and called his mom a liar. His mom!

Then Percy tried to stab her with his new sword. Mom made Percy apologize for trying to stab Annabeth. Mr. Luke made Annabeth apologize for insulting Percy’s mother. Percy was beginning to worry that he and Annabeth may be mortal enemies. 

Mr. Luke had tried explaining a bunch of stuff about monsters and ‘the Sight’ and why Percy’s life was terrible to him, but Percy already knew his life was terrible and he wasn’t interested. Percy ended up furiously swinging his new sword at a tree outside as Mom signed a bunch of forms and talked with Mr. Luke some more, but she hustled him home pretty quickly afterwards. 

Percy didn’t give the sword back. Mr. Luke, wisely, did not ask for it back.

Mom kept on making a face on the subway back to the motel like she had been waiting her entire life for Percy to ask all of these questions, and she was preparing herself for it. She kept on glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, watching Percy kick his feet against the hard plastic seat. It was obvious. But Percy didn’t have anything to say to her. They spent the rest of the day in silence, just focusing on packing up and getting everything ready to move. Jacksons were practical, Mom said. 

Jacksons were practical. Percy was practical, too. It was only in the deep pits of night, as Percy lay in bed holding up his sword and watching it reflect the soft lamplight above the creaky wooden table where Mom was doing work, that he asked. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sword was really cool. It was pure bronze, with the middle gleaming pure silver. There was some Greek writing inscribed down the center that Percy had no idea how to read, although he had spent an hour scouring the internet looking for a translation. The handle was tough white cord, stiff and starchy but fraying a little at the edges. 

Mr. Luke said it was named something, but Percy forgot what it was. He had been a bit busy almost impaling the guy. 

Mom’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but her spine was stiff and rigid. 

Finally, after a long silence, she said, “I didn’t want you to think that there was anything different about you.”

“So what?” Percy asked, his eyes pricking rebelliously. Stupid water. “You let me think that I was a bad person who ruined your life?”

“Percy, no!” Mom turned around, expression crumpled. The dim light showed the heavy bags under Mom’s eyes in sharp relief. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. None of this is your fault, you understand? That’s what this business with your father means: that none of it was your fault. That’s all it means.”

If that was true, Percy thought, then why couldn’t she have told him before?

But Percy was afraid that if he said that, then he would start crying, and Percy was way too old to cry. Only weak little babies cried. 

“I’m sorry my dad’s a loser who ruined your life, Mom,” Percy said.

“Percy…”

But Percy refused to answer her, putting his sword down next to him and pretending to go to sleep. He kept it next to him in bed all night, gripping its hilt tight, and the firm and cool pressure of the steel in his hand soothed him when the thought of a father didn’t. 

***

They moved in the next day.

The next day! Percy was livid. He barely had any time to pack up his toys into his backpack, and Mom didn’t even have time to help him back up his blue Spider-man suitcase. He had to do it all by himself, and then Mom came in and told him he was folding everything up wrong and that he had to redo it. If she had so many problems with it, she should have helped him and gave him more than one day to move out of their dumb motel! 

When people moved on TV there were always moving vans and buff dudes in baseball caps. But Percy was much better at moving then any of those idiots: all it took was a suitcase (of clothes and toiletries and stuff) and a backpack (of toys and school supplies and stuff). 

Percy’s backpack had the Power Rangers on it, in glossy plastic. Its contents were always the same, through every move: Batman, Golduck, Bulbasaur, Blue Eyes White Dragon, Raphael, a stegosaurus with a missing tail named Hedward, and a little book full of pictures of him and his mom and some cards and stuff. There was a picture of him and Grandma in the apartment in Staten Island that he lived in until he was six, and a 5th birthday card she had given him six months before she died. Written inside, in her looping and faded script, was a sentence Percy had read over and over and over again. ‘Tu angel de la guarda trabaja horas extra por tí. Así que acuérdate de decirle gracias ¿Sí, mi niño?'’

Percy was inclined to agree with her. God should pay his guardian angel overtime. That, or pay one to go to Olympus and collect child support.

The image was funny to Percy - the idea of his angel with her wings and halos showing up at Poseidon’s door and tapping her watch as she held out her hat. It was so funny, it was the first thing he told Mr. Luke when they met him at the gates to the apartment complex. Mom was huffing behind him with her two suitcases, while Percy was busy juggling his own backpack, suitcase, and sword. 

Mr. Luke looked alarmed to see the both of them, although Mom had called ahead and arranged to meet him here. Worse, Annabeth was next to him, still holding a clipboard. She didn’t look alarmed, just mad. 

“Did you bring Riptide onto public transportation?” Annabeth squawked. “You have no sense of discretion!”

Was Riptide the name of the sword? Whatever. Percy would have named it Hurricane. “I know words you don’t know too, you don’t have to brag,” Percy said flatly. 

“Yeah, the gods are filthy little child support evaders,” Mr. Luke said easily, instantly endearing himself to Percy. Mom rolled her eyes as she put her suitcases down, but she was clearly fighting a smile. “Don’t worry, I dragged them to court. Sued them for all they’re worth.”

“How on earth did you do that?” Mom asked, interested. 

“Trickery and rhetoric,” Annabeth said proudly.

“Swords,” Mr. Luke said. 

“What did you squeeze them for?” Percy asked, excited. 

Mr. Luke winked. And he still didn’t ask for his sword back. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. 

The apartment complex itself wasn’t nearly as big as a lot of Brooklyn complexes, looking more like the little apartment complexes in Queens that Percy was used to. It was three separate three-story buildings arranged in a square, with one side holding the small leasing office and a parking lot. It was open-air, with the apartment doors opening directly outside. There was a really big courtyard in the center, and despite himself Percy got a little excited.

It was awesome. There was a huge, sprawling tree right in the center of the courtyard. It was gigantic, bigger than any tree Percy had ever seen in his life. It seemed like it didn’t even belong in New York, like it was a transplant from the California Redwoods or Canada or something. Its leaves were waving in a nonexistent breeze, and something about it just seemed so magical and otherworldly to Percy. 

But that was only half of the awesome things. The other awesome thing was that there were kids everywhere.

The tree provided shade to a couple scattered gangs of kids, sitting around and laughing. There was a rusty set of monkey bars, which some kids were playing on, and there was a big dirt rectangle where other kids were hitting each other on the head with wooden plastic swords. There were groups of girls eating lunch, and a gang of boys playing soccer in the corner that made Percy immediately want to jump in and play too. Percy dominated at soccer. 

“The East and South buildings are where we all live,” Annabeth informed Mom. “The West building is where the training rooms and storage rooms and administrative rooms - that’s my office - and everything is. It also has guest units for the local spirits that like to visit. We just had ten Bacchae stay for a week. They were backpacking to Woodstock. We have very good inter-community relationships here.”

“That’s amazing,” Mom said faintly. Mr. Luke was smiling faintly, eyes fixed on the big tree. Percy found himself staring at Mr. Luke, watching with interest the soft but firm pride in his eyes. “Luke said that this property’s safe from…” 

She glanced at Percy quickly, cutting herself off. But Annabeth just huffed. 

“I almost got eaten by monsters twenty times when I was seven,” Annabeth informed Mom imperiously. “We’re not babies. Connor Stoll says if you’re old enough to get eaten by monsters then you’re old enough to know that they exist.”

Percy decided immediately that he liked Connor Stoll, and maybe even Annabeth too. 

“The tree protects us,” Luke said. “Wherever the tree is, we’re safe. Not even the gods date step foot beyond the leasing office here.”

“Because of the tree?” Mom asked. 

Luke smiled - sharp, piercing, and strange. “Sure, let’s say that.”

But Mom just frowned. She looked over the courtyard of kids - some of whom were already starting to whisper and stare. Annabeth waved at a gaggle of identically blonde children, and for the first time Percy wondered who she was the daughter of. Probably the bossiest god. Maybe Athena. Or, like, Hephaestus. Definitely Hephaestus. 

“You said that there’s nobody over eighteen here,” Mom said to Luke. “Luke, there’s a six year old on those monkey bars.”

“If you’re under thirteen, you live with someone over thirteen,” Luke said to her. Annabeth was still frowning in disapproval at Percy’s sword. He stuck his tongue out at her. “Two people to a unit, we try to pair the oldest with the youngest. Lucy lives with Henrique, he’s seventeen. It’s the best we can do.”

“Surely there has to be someone…?”

“Adults have never helped us. They never will.” Luke looked away sharply. “We’ve been in Brooklyn a year. You’re the first adult who’s made her way here. Most other parents with a kid as powerful as Percy would have -”

He cut himself off sharply, glancing at Percy, and Percy scowled up at him. He thought that Luke was being honest. Maybe he was just another old guy afraid to say what everybody else knew. 

“I’ll help Ms. Jackson settle in,” Annabeth said suddenly. She held out her hands to Percy, who reflexively hugged his luggage to his chest. “You guys are in unit 5. It’s on the bottom floor. If you flood it, then we can fix it okay. Give me your luggage, I’ll put it in your unit.”

Percy stared at her, overwhelmed with that simple signal of care. No threats about if he flooded it, no warnings or sickly sweet faux-concern. Just understanding, and acceptance. 

He silently gave her his bags. 

She seemed surprised when she felt how light they were. Percy shrugged awkwardly at her face, crossing his arms tightly around her chest. “Don’t touch my stuff, okay?”

“Sure,” Annabeth said, before pausing a beat. “We have a TV in our place. #1. Do you want to come over tonight and watch Winx Club?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, overwhelmed. “Sure.”

Mr. Luke put a hand on Percy’s back as Annabeth guided Mom to a corner unit. Percy couldn’t help but notice that the door to the unit was already propped open. Wait - there were people going in and out!

There was a tall, buff teenager, carrying two chairs underneath each arm. There was another group of three teenage girls, carrying a table between them. Two other younger kids were carrying boxes and laughing. They were bringing everything into the unit, and other younger kids were running in and out with cleaning supplies. 

From a distance, Percy saw Mom stop in her tracks. Annabeth tugged at her shirt and got her to bend down, whispering something in her ear. A boy with sandy brown hair ran up, taking Mom’s suitcases from her and bringing them into the unit. 

“Your Mom mentioned that you were missing some furniture,” Mr. Luke said. “The Hermes and Aphrodite kids all pitched in to get your home looking like a home. I hope you’ll like it.”

Percy clutched his sword to his chest, speechless. 

Mr. Luke smiled down at him, that same wan and weak smile, and put a hand on his back. He gently pushed Percy forward, towards the tree. “Come with me for a minute?”

They silently approached the sprawling, ancient tree. As they came closer, Percy could see that its bark was gnarled and knotted, with perfect handholds for climbing and perfect boughs for resting in the summer sun. He could already see a few kids resting in high boughs, taking a nap in the humid and sticky sun. 

“Percy, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Mr. Luke’s voice was quiet, like he was in church. He looked up at the tree, peering far into the leaves as if he was trying to find something hidden within them. “This is Thalia. Thalia, this is Percy. He’s the newest member of the family. He’s also your cousin.”

Cousin? Percy looked up at Mr. Luke, eyes wide. “I’m related to a tree?”

Tilted up at the tree, Percy couldn’t see Mr. Luke’s expression. Maybe that was on purpose. “Thalia’s a kid, just like us. Daughter of Zeus. I used to think that she was the closest thing to an adult I knew, but...I’m as old as she is, now. I guess one day soon I’ll be older than she ever got to be.” 

Oh. The tree was, like, from the ashes of some dead girl. Awkward. Percy stared at the thick and arching roots of the tree, feeling weird.

“Thalia, please protect Percy. I can already tell that he’s going to grow up to be very strong and brave. Please help us make sure that Percy never has to be strong. That he’s never brave. I can already tell he’s going to need a lot of your help.” He looked down at Percy for the first time, and for the first time Percy could see just a little warmth in those icy blue eyes. “You’re going to have to work overtime for him. So make sure to say thank you, Percy. Okay?”

“Thank you, Thalia,” Percy said obediently. He bowed awkwardly, uncertain what to do. The sword scraped awkwardly against his thigh. “Thanks for letting me into your home.”

“Welcome home, Percy,” Mr. Luke said, and for the first time Percy almost believed it. 

[spaceecoffe]

LUZ ISN'T THE PROTAGONIST OF THE OWL HOUSE

Okay, so here are my thoughts after s02e07 (there will be spoilers probably!) and also after reading some of yours posts about series. I will make a list because I hate lists but I can't cope without them.

1. Let's start with the types of some basic narrations

1st Person narration - the one were we see everything from narrators point of view, we usually now their thoughts, the example could be Percy Jackson and the Olympians series

3rd Person narration - in this type we may or may not know character/characters thoughts and also we can follow actions of only one character or jump from one point of you to another. Harry Potter series is an example of following one character while in Game Of Thrones or The Heroes of Olympus we change a character in every chapter.

This is one way to distinguish types of narration. We can also do this by saying which type of character in our plot is the narrator:

The Protagonist - our narrator is also the hero of our story, just like Percy Jackson

The Secondary Character - our narrator is someone who is close to the hero of a story, for example a friend just like in The Great Gatsby or My Friend the King

The Detached Observer - we don't know who narrator is, we never hear his thoughts or opinions, there is never "me" or "I", we can see this type in Harry Potter or GONE

The Commentator - he doesn't take a part in the story but he puts his comments and thoughts to it, I think we have this one (unless something changed in later books) in Series of Unfortunate Events

We can probably add more to it but I think we don't have to do this in this post. What I want to tell is that we always naturally assume that Narrator (or character he follows) = The Protagonist unless we are informed at the beginning that things are different. Usually the author informs us at the beginning if Narrator is The Protagonist or no. It can be like in Series of Unfortunate Events where Narrator tells that this story will be about someone else or like in The Great Gatsby where we can assume this only by title of the book.

But all of this works perfectly in books while in movies/series it is harder to show us the Narrator. Usually we don't think about Narrator when we watch something. We think that no one has to tell us a story when we actually can see it but this is only an illusion. There always has to be a narrator and creators of the movies/series always thinks about this. There are some movies where we get to know who is narrator like The Great Gatsby (I'm sorry, I just love this movie not even for the plot but for its narration which is just so amazing) or in the Series of Unfortunate Events.

In The Owl House if we want to guess who is the Narrator it is Luz. She is the perfect character for it: she doesn't know the Boiling Isles just like we so we get to discover it with her. It is the easiest way for author to show readers/viewers new world. If you think about it authors usually create narrator characters like this because it's the most natural way to show new world to other people. Harry Potter was a part of New World, Magic World, but he didn't know it because he was raised in Muggle World. The same thing goes for Percy Jackson. In Lord Of The Rings narrator isn't any character but we usually, especially at the beginning, follow Frodo who was raised as a Hobbit in Shire so he doesn't really know the world outside. It is not always done like this. In Game of Thrones we are tossed to existing world, we follow characters which knows how this world works and, for me, it was really hard to catch up on events for like first hundred pages. It just didn't felt so natural like when you get to know the world with the character you follow or The Narrator. It can also work with showing as The Protagonist, like in The Great Gatsby, Nick is someone new in his life, so we get to know Gatsby with him.

So, it is natural that in The Owl House Luz is The Narrator. This way Dana could easily show us her world. But that doesn't mean Luz is the real Protagonist of the story.

2. Luz could be The Protagonist

Luz could be The Protagonist. She is new person in Boiling Isles, she changes it just because she is in it, but... That is not all that is needed to be the protagonist. Protagonist isn't the only person who can have an influence on the story. The presence of Nick in Jay Gatsby's life changes somehow his decisions, but it doesn't make Nick The Protagonist. It is still Gatsby, although Nick has an influence on his character.

I fill like in TOH is similar. Luz has an influence on the events but that doesn't mean she has to be The Protagonist.

3. Eda is The Protagonist

Why Eda? Here we will have some subsections (list in a list my dears)!

3.1 We get to know Eda more then Luz

Oh, but how? I've seen posts saying that people don't understand why we doesn't see any of Luz's memories from before Boiling Isles, even little flash backs. It's because she is only The Narrator, we don't have to know her full story, we only need to follow her in the New World to see what is happening in story and to get to know this world. But we get A LOT of Eda's memories. We've seen her nightmares of being cursed, we've seen her memories with Lilith when they were children, we've seen memories of her curse revealing at the fight with her sister, later we get the memories about how her mother tried to cure her and in last episode we see her story w Raine. That's a lot of flash backs. None other character had so many. The only other character that had some flashbacks was Amity and Willow in one episode and King in his episode this season. But it is not as much as Eda gets. And Luz? We didn't see any of Luz's memories!

3.2 Eda is one of the characters with biggest growth while Luz's growth is small

I also saw posts about how Luz is the only character that doesn't change through the series. It isn't totally correct. She changes. She becomes more certain about the fact that she isn't a freak. I mean, okay, she knows she is still kinda freak (for human standards) but she started to love that part of herself. In this season she also learns that she is not the one who is responsible for everything and that she shouldn't blame herself for every bad thing that happens around her. But in comparison to Eda or Amity it is not so apparent.

Eda went from being an outcast, scared of some parts of herself (cursed ones) to the person who accepted her nature. She isn't outcast anymore. She accepted people's presence in her life. We see this in last episode when she tells herself that just when she got used to people being in Owl House they all leave. Sure, at the beginning she had King, but she didn't talk to Lilith or her own mother. Through the series she opened her heart for other people and now she has so big found family. Not only Luz, King and Hooty. She has great connection with her sister, she started to talk normally to her mother. She met Raine and was so open for them. She is even now friends with Bump and helps him in school which she hated! And also I am sure that she really like Luz's friends.

And the curse. She always played cool about it. "Nah, it just happens!". But we could see that she was actually really scared of it. She hated this part of herself even if she was telling Lilith or their mother otherwise. But in one of the episodes of season two we see that she finally accepted this part of herself and fought back with the curse. And this is such a BIG GROWTH WHICH I LOVE SO MUCH. And yes, this is because of the parallel to mental health illness, that you can't get rid of but you can learn to manage it in proper way. And I love that elixirs didn't helped her to handle it, they only helped her to "keep the curse quiet". The moment she started to manage it was when she stopped it by her own. Just like with mental health problems: meds won't help without your own work.

So yes, in comparison to Eda's character growth Luz's is small, but if she is The Narrator she doesn't have to change a lot. In every story it is The Protagonist who changes most, because stories aren't only about how Protagonist has influence on the world and events but, and I think it is even more important, how events changes The Protagonist.

3.3 Eda is connected to everything that is important for the plot

If you think about this, Eda is the only character that is connected somehow to every piece of plot. And here comes subsections of subsections! (yes, I'm practicing before writing my BSc which I should write RIGHT NOW but Eda is now more important for me, sorry my dear archaea and proteins)

Wild Magic - this one goes for Eda and for Luz but the way it connects with them is very different. Eda chose to not go into any coven. She never wanted to gave most of her magic away and that is why she wanted to go to Emperor's Coven. But when she was forced to fight her own sister I think she started to understand how sick covens were. So she decided to not sign to any of them. She decided to become outcast, out of the law, just so she could still have her Wild Magic. In series she looked so cool with this decision, but that is how she is, she always seems cool but we know that it is not always how she really feels. And I think that decision about being "out of coven" was really hard for her but at the same time she knew that it was only way for her and she was ready to do everything to stay with her Wild Magic. And with the years she never changed her decision. While for Luz Wild Magic used by the glyphs is a way to make her dream come true. It is also important, going with our dreams is one of the most important things in our lives, but for the plot I feel like Eda's connection is more important.

Portal - this one goes for the Eda and Luz too, but again, not in the same way. Both of them found portal by accident but! Eda found it in the way that you could think it was waiting there for here. Like, it literally lied in the mud on her way. While Luz found it because of Eda and Owlbert. Without Eda having it, she would never found Boiling Isles. And here comes third thing.

Luz (and Human Realm) - yes, she is also really important for the plot, although I think she's not The Protagonist. But still Luz has a big influence on events and as I said before, if not Eda she would never come to Boiling Isles and would never had a chance to change anything.

Curse - we know that curse she has is strange. No one on Boiling Isles knew this curse, but somehow Lilith bought it at the night market. Just like with Portal, we can think that it was just meant for Eda to get this curse. Like, it was just lying there and waiting for Lilith to buy it and curse Eda with it. I am sure that it is also connected to the Wild Magic.

King's Father - same story as before, she was running away, found a safe place on some island that no one knows about, in some ruins and by accident found King there. We know that before King hatched he heard a roar, probably his father's. We can also believe that his father was mighty. I think that he could be connected to Wild Magic somehow and that is why someone tried to do something to him. But I think that he is also important for the plot, we just don't know how yet.

Lilith as a head of Emperor's Coven - and here we go to some important point. We know that Lilith became head of a coven just so Belos could get to the Eda and her portal, and Belos is this one important point.

There is only one person who has (or can have like with King's father) connection to all this things and this person is Belos, the main Antagonist. He is fighting with Wild Magic, which apparently made him Cursed and because of this he was looking for Portal to go to the Human Realm, but for this he needed Lilith to get to Eda. So Eda is a key to everything that Belos wants and she actually always stands against him. She is not fighting with Wild Magic, but uses it, she is Cursed but she accepted it and she can manage it, she has/had a Portal but never used it for anything bad. She also has a connection tu Human Realm because of Luz, the kid that she loves, and the only reason she would want to have Portal again is to help Luz, and she also never wanted to actually fight with Lilith while Belos made her to do many times. So she is in natural opposition to him and that is also what makes her The Protagonist of main story.

3.4 We know that Luz doesn't have any "big fate" on Boiling Isles

At the beginning I wrote that we usually know that The Narrator isn't The Protagonist because author shows it to us. But we also know that Dana loves to play with us and she loves to hide informations (even with colour coded scenes) and I feel like she did the same thing with The Narrator - The Protagonist thing. Second episode of the series, Witches before Wizards shows us Luz who tries to find her special fate on Boiling Isles. She thinks she is there because of some grater powers of fate but we learn that this isn't true. We always thought that this is about breaking the stereotype of Protagonist being The Chosen One (like in Harry Potter or Percy Jackson) and I love this idea, but what if it was about showing us that Luz is not The Protagonist of a story? Because for me, everything that happened to Eda: the course, finding portal, King and Luz, looks like to many accidents for one character to be just accidents, more like something (maybe fate) or someone (maybe the Tytan himself because he is trapped somehow by Belos) tries to give her every piece she needs to stand in opposition to main Antagonist of Boiling Isles.

4. Summary

This is only my little theory, I don't know if I am right, but I feel like it can be another Dana's game with stereotypes/archetypes, I'm not sure how to call it, with traditional writing, keeping your Protagonist hide until the very end. And if it will turn out like this I will be really amazed. I would love to know what you think about this! And I also really need to start writing my BSc instead of these analyses but this is SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING.

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Lethal Enemies" - One-Shot

Summary: Nico and Will are venturing through Tartarus, and there they meet a familar god: Eros.

Word Count: 2905

SPOILERS: Tower of Nero, Burning Maze; TW: Homophobia/Internalized Homophobia, some violence (and blood but it's not too descriptive), outing mentions

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, scorching Nico’s skin as he and Will stumble through the darkness. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been down here, but his body is already aching and screaming from all the effort of fighting monsters and trying to survive.

Will’s arm brushes against Nico’s, and the child of Hades almost jumps back at the touch. His skin feels feverishly hot, bursting with unnatural heat. When Nico looks up at him, he realizes that Will’s face is severed with scratches, gashes, sweat, and an overall pale wash. Small holes smoke in his CHB T-shirt, and his jeans are ripped at the sides from where a monster clawed him.

At the sight of him, Nico’s chest constricts with sympathy and guilt. As much as he loves Will for coming with him, he knows the kind of pressures that would put on both of them. Will looks so out of place in such a dark, gloomy world, where only terror and misery reside.

To Nico, Will is the complete opposite of terror and misery. He’s the sunshine after a terrible rain storm; he’s the sweetness after the sourness. But here, in the raging darkness, Will looks washed out. He doesn’t belong here.

Tartarus is Nico’s terrifying, unspeakable past; Will is his bright future. The two should not be clashing.

This hell was made to ruin. And it seems like it’s doing its job on Will, too.

Nico slips his fingers into the blond’s and squeezes, pushing his own feverish warmth into his boyfriend. Will turns his face to Nico’s and, for the first time, Nico sees a crack in his eyes - usually so sky blue, they’ve turned almost gray with fear. He’s breaking.

Nico leans into Will’s side, trying to find solace in the overbearing darkness. “It’s only going to get worse,” he mutters.

“Then I’m glad I’m not doing it alone.”

Nico offers a wavering smile, and they continue walking. For the most part, it seems like they’re safe from any monsters, but Nico knows from past experience that he can never be too careful. His eyes swerve all around them, watching out for any new monsters, and his Stygian sword pulses in the darkness.

After a few moments, there’s a shift in the air. It’s still warm and unbearable, but there’s a new scent - like a faint waft of the outside world, the breath of a fresh summer day. It smells almost like Will.

The blood in Nico’s veins buzzes and he stops immediately. Fear courses through his body. Will staggers as the child of Hades grips his wrist and pulls him back. At the sight of Nico’s ashen face, Will leans in. “Everything good?” he asks.

“That smell,” he whispers. “What does it smell like to you?”

“Well,” Will says, eyebrows knitting together as he thinks, “it kind of smells like you, weirdly? Like, the earth after a rainy day.”

That’s all Nico needs to know before panic settles in his chest. His mind crawls with memories and the pain of humiliation he faced just a year ago. Jason, Croatia, Diocletian’s spectre.

“No,” he mutters. “Will, we need to leave.”

Without waiting for a response, Nico tightens his fingers over Will’s wrist and starts to pull him away. But a voice murmurs, “Oh, leaving so soon, child of Hades?” and Nico knows right then and there that he and Will are trapped.

The voice pours over the heat like melted chocolate, smooth and deep, but a dagger of betrayal resides in it. Nico’s heart thuds on overtime and his nerves flair with anxiety, but he knows he can’t go anywhere. This meeting was bound to happen.

“Eros,” Nico hisses.

“Ah,” the voice murmurs. “So you recognize me.”

The god isn’t visible, but Nico can feel his cold presence anyway. “Who would forget such a jackass?”

A low, rumbling laugh echoes around them. Will’s hand releases its hold on Nico’s and lingers over the gun at his side. Nico raises his sword.

“Well, well, well,” the god says, “it looks like you’ve got a new friend here with you. How sweet.”

“Show yourself,” Will demands. “Face us like the hot-headed deity you are.”

Though he can’t see it, Nico still senses the raised eyebrow over the god’s eye. “Oh, he’s feisty, too. You sure have won with him.”

“Stop talking about him like he’s some kind of object,” says Nico. “You heard him. Show yourself.”

The same laughter crashes over them, and after another moment, a being appears. His long, black hair gleams despite the absence of light, and his red eyes glimmer maliciously in the darkness. They stare right through Nico, stabbing him in the face, and suddenly Nico’s hurtling to the past, to the misery. He scowls at the god.

Eros’ wings spread around him, the feathers fluttering a little as he shifts. He crosses his arms and offers a sharp smirk to Will and Nico. “Aw, look at you two,” he purrs. “So young and in love. Ready to fight together in Tartarus.”

“What do you want?” Nico asks, brandishing his sword. “Why are you bothering us?”

Eros’ shoulders rise and fall gracefully in an innocent shrug. “Oh, nothing, really. I was really just hoping to see how you were. I heard you were traveling down here, and I thought I would check on your progress.”

“Well, great. You’ve checked. You can leave.”

He laughs again, a low, tumbling laugh that heightens Nico’s rage. “Ever the sarcastic, child of Hades. No, listen. I can help you.”

“And how will you do that?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re nothing more than a love god.”

“Have the Aphrodite children taught you nothing, pitiful child?” Eros hisses. “Love plays an important role in life.”

“I don’t see how love is helpful here,” Nico says, spreading his arms to gesture to the rest of Tartarus. “All I see is pain and misery. You can leave.”

“Oh, but I see where love can become important.” Eros raises a brow and tips his head to the boys. “Are you two not in love?”

Nico blushes. “That is not of your concern.”

“I can influence a lot,” he promises. “Especially the way you two act together. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase - the two you were oh-so-jealous of only some time ago - came here together. They got away safely. I can influence a lot between you and Will Solace.” He steps forward, and against his lips, a dagger-like smile beams at Nico.

The son of Hades crosses his arms. “I happen to remember that I got through here on my own. Love does not solve all problems.”

Eros raises an eyebrow. “Does it not?” He begins to circle around Will and Nico, glaring at them with his ruby-red eyes. “Tell me, Nico, does Will not make you feel special? Does he not help you feel better?”

Rage billows up in Nico’s chest, pushing against his sternum. “I am happy with Will. But he does not solve my problems, just the way I do not solve his.”

“But you are happier with him, is that right?” Another smile flashes across his mouth. “And who are you to thank for him, hmm? If it were not for me, you would not be here today with him. You would not be happy accepting who you are.”

Nico’s anger rises up to this throat, hot waves of rage crashing against the back of his neck. He surges forward, but Will pulls him back. “No,” he whispers. “He’s a god, Nico. Don’t try.”

Nico glares at Will, but deep down, he knows Will is right. So he sighs and stands still.

“I would not be happy?” he growls. Nico's muscles tighten with rage. “You humiliated me. I wasn’t ready to admit who I was; I wasn’t ready for any of that.” This time, despite Will’s insistence, Nico rushes forward, his anger pulling him toward the god. “It was my choice, and you stole it from me! And you’re congratulating yourself?”

“It’s not like there were many people there,” the god scoffs. “Only Grace.” He pouts. “I heard about the demigod’s untimely death, however. Terribly sorry.”

Nico shakes his head. He knows Eros is just trying to get under his skin by mentioning Jason. He can’t let himself get distracted.

“Your outing of me was not something to celebrate,” hisses Nico. “I spent so much time hating myself, hating Percy because of who I was. When you forced me to blatantly admit that I was gay” - a burst of confidence blooms in Nico’s chest as he says the last word - “I had never felt so violated. I only hated myself more, because I was terrified of who I was. The entire experience was humiliating. You ruined me.”

“Did I?” Eros asks. “The first step in accepting yourself was to admit you were gay in the first place. I pushed you to accept yourself.” He gestures to Will. “Now look where you are! Happy and in love with a boyfriend! Is there anything better?”

Nico’s chest heaves as another wave of rage suffocates him. His body shakes with anger. He feels like a detonating bomb; in just a few seconds, he will explode and destroy everything in the area.

“You only made things worse,” mutters Nico. “I spent days worrying about who was watching me, worrying about how much people knew. I hated myself every moment, every second afterwards, even more so than before you forced me to admit that I was gay.” Nico takes a deep breath, his chest expanding as he does so. “Maybe you’re right - maybe I did need to admit to myself who I was. But it should have been on my own terms. You did not help me accept myself; all you did was make me tell myself what I already knew. You made the entire process of accepting myself more difficult than it needed to be. When I spat out that I liked Percy, I felt… I felt violated. I felt like someone had stabbed me right through the back. I… I hated myself more than I ever did at that moment. I thought it was the end; I thought right then and there, I would die. Not from embarrassment, but from someone else’s hands. My own hands. I thought there was nothing more humiliating than to be forced to tell someone I didn’t know that I was some kind of disgusting creature. I felt so dehumanized.” Nico glares at Eros. “Don’t feel happy that you did that. You did not improve my life; only I did that. Not Will, not you, not any of my friends. Me. Do not take credit for my accomplishments.” Hot fury seethes in Nico’s core, washes up over his chest, crashes against his throat, trickles down his arms and legs. His lungs expand and exhale as he breathes hard, each breath like acid burning down his sinuses. “My work has been looked over too much, ever since I first learned of demigods. Do not take the credit for my self-improvement, because you are one of the many reasons I was destroyed in the first place.”

For a moment, no one speaks. An eerie silence lingers in the air, holding Nico in a chokehold. Eros simply watches him, his eyebrows lowered and a fierce, judgmental, angry look glowing in his red eyes. Will tilts his head at Nico and offers the ghost of a smile. I'm proud of you, he seems to be saying.

Nico doesn’t return it, but even then, a little flower of confidence blooms in his chest.

Eros crosses his arms once more, airing his defiance out into the open. Arrogance sparks along his wings. He raises a brow at Nico. “You have become more bold in yourself. Self-assured.” A sharp smile grates against his mouth. “And that would not have happened had you not admitted you were gay at all. I may have humiliated you, but in the end, you have become stronger through your pain. You have become sturdy, grounded into the world. I have led you to your happiness.” He offers a secretive smile to Will. “And your happiness is your boyfriend. You’re welcome.”

Nico watches Eros, glaring at his over-confident face, at his casual posture, at the pride in his eyes. He is too assured in himself, too hot-headed.

The sword in Nico’s hand grows heavier, a hum buzzing through the metal. Irritation and anger swirl in his chest, creating a tornado in his body, and he’s drowning, drowning in his rage, in his memories, in his untamed emotions.

He knows what he has to do.

Nico raises his sword, and, without even thinking, he slashes the god’s shoulder.

“Nico!” Will cries, but it’s too late. Eros cries out and hisses through his teeth, holding his arm in his hand. His angry red eyes gleam right at the child of Hades, projecting all his rage and pain right to Nico’s core. The demigod merely stands still, waiting for the god’s next move.

“Oh, you arrogant hero!” Eros cries. Golden ichor slips past his fingers, dripping onto the ground, and for a strange, fleeting moment, Nico finds that it looks beautiful in the darkness, sparkling where it should not be.

Only pain belongs in Tartarus. Nico wants to hurt Eros the way he hurt him.

Nico knows the act was stupid, but he can’t help the grin that takes over his face. Laughter bubbles out of his chest, sprinkled with something maniacal, something angry. “What’s wrong, my lord?” Nico purrs, leaning against his sword. “You said love fixes pain. Can it fix you?”

Eros snarls at Nico, but the son of Hades doesn’t care. Nothing beats the thrill that thrums in his body at the sight of the god being so frustrated.

Eros pants through the pain, his face turning red. “You think you are something special, don’t you, child?”

Nico laughs, the sound of it ironic in such a painful place. The laugh overflows with repressed pain, with hot anger.

That laugh belongs here in Tartarus, with its madness and rage.

“Oh, Eros,” Nico mutters. “I spent so long thinking I deserved nothing. I spent so long thinking everywhere I went, misery followed me. I have never felt special.” He glances up and down at the god. “You asked me if even Will makes me feel special. Well, no. He makes me… feel good. But you know what makes me feel actually special?”

Despite his rage, curiosity strangles Eros’ eyes. He waits for a response, hissing as more ichor spills out of his godly being.

“What makes me feel good, what makes me feel like I have a worth in this world,” Nico says as a smile creeps over his face, offering him a maniacal glow, “is when I provide justice to those who have done wrong. Originally I always believed Death has no mercy, only justice.” He slashes again at Eros, who cries louder and falls to his knees. He pants through the pain. “Well, I suppose there are other ways to provide justice.”

Nico runs his finger through the golden ichor that gleams over his sword. Touching it, Nico’s finger tingles with power. He looks at Eros again. “What makes me feel special is when I defeat entitled assholes like you, my lord.”

“You have not defeated me,” the god growls.

“No, not physically,” Nico agrees. “But I have defeated the pain you have caused me.” He touches the tip to Eros’ chin, balancing it mere millimeters from his skin. The point gleams red as it reflects the glow of Eros’ eyes. “Begone, you pitiful asshole.”

Eros snarls and throws Nico’s sword away, but the demigod only smiles. This is exactly the reaction he wanted.

“You cannot kill me, arrogant hero,” Eros reminds him.

“No, but I can scare you.” Raising an eyebrow at him, Nico says, “Many have been scared of me. I am a child of Hades. You may be a god, but you have no idea of what I am capable of.”

Eros regards Nico with a sharp glare, but the sight of it no longer grates against Nico’s conscience. He’s only bursting with energy, with confidence. He hasn’t felt so alive in years. Power hums in his core, billows over his chest, courses through his veins. He feels almost invincible.

“You have made an enemy, Nico di Angelo,” Eros promises. “And love is no enemy you want. Especially not with someone in your situation.”

Nico falters. What does Eros mean? Does he mean his being gay? Does he mean with society in general? Then Nico turns to his boyfriend, who’s shivering with fear and adrenaline at his side, and it clicks. He means Will.

Nico scowls at Eros. “You say I have made an enemy, Eros, but the truth of the matter is that you made me an enemy long ago. When you first stabbed me in the shoulder with your weapon.” Nico glances at the wound on Eros’ left arm and shakes his head. “You made a mistake long ago. You are only now realizing it.”

Silence lingers around them, floating tensely in the hot air. Then Eros says, “I can influence a lot.” A glimmer of confidence returns in his eyes. “Be warned, child of Hades.”

With that, Eros disappears. And Will and Nico are left alone once more, staring ahead to whatever terrors lie ahead.

[caffeinated-croissant]

Musical Milestones

In honor of @writersmonth 's final Pride prompt : Write a story about a milestone, I present you a band au featuring Piper, Percy and Jason.

Percy Jackson’s three greatest loves are: Piper McLean, Jason Grace and music. Piper McLean is the omniromantic, asexual love of his life. Jason Grace is the Demiromantic pansexual love of his life. The three are in an amazing relationship with each other and music.

In their band, they all sing but constantly switch between a guitar and two other instruments. Percy is taken with “his” drums and piano; Piper has a lovely talent for the violin and drums; while Jason primarily sticks to the piano and violin.

Percy was not expecting the most amazing news to come from the call he picked up, with their manager, Frank. Maybe he had expected it as a social call, or another small venue, not what Frank had ended up sharing instead.

“I’ve got huge news for Coastal Lights, so go get the other two,” Frank didn’t even wait for a greeting.

“Hello to you too, Frank.”

“Nope, none of that, go get Jason and Piper cause this is huge.”

“Boooo, you’re no fun Zhang.” Percy started moving out of the kitchen after he set up a timer for the oven.

“Percy, why are you always like this?”

“Cause I’m a drama queen, according to Piper and Jason anyway.” He moved into the bedroom where Piper was tuning Jason’s ukulele. All instruments in their apartments were never solely owned after entering the relationship, neither were their clothes for that matter.

“You really are blueberry,” Piper looked up from her work with a questioning tilt to her head.

Percy pouted, “I see it’s pick on Percy day already.” He made a small gesture to follow him as he left for the living room.

“Starshine, It’s always pick on Percy day.” Jason barely looked up from his book.

“Fine, maybe I won’t bring you back any of my mom’s cookies the next time I visit her.” Percy sat down next to Jason laying his head on Jason’s shoulder. Jason looked affronted at the cruel statement.

“We’ll just steal from the stash you’ll end up bringing back.” Piper told him as she snuggled into Percy’s otherside.

“Percy put me on speaker.” Frank Zhang had a high patience for his friends, but he was not going to deal with this trouple's petty antics, when he had important news.

Jason set down his book, knowing their manager wasn’t normally like this unless he had band news.

“You're broadcasting in 3...2...1, you’re now live.” There was a reason Piper and Jason, among his other friends, called him a drama queen.

“I managed to book you three a spot at the “Day For Night” music festival in Nashville, North Carolina.”

Those words did not register for a good 10 seconds before it did click and the Coastal Light’s apartment went up in cheers.

=

The “Day for Night” music festival was huge. The stage was gigantic. The crowds were massive. And managing to get in as a little band like they were was a ridiculously huge deal.

The festival was mostly all outside and was literally never quite. Throughout the festival stood multiple little kiosks selling something. Some did characters, some sold records of older bands, while a vast majority of the rest sold merchandise of all different types of artists who have passed through these types of festivals. Besides the normal people who bought tickets and stuff, there were also speakers methodically placed around so it was loud enough for everyone to hear but soft enough to escape.

Percy, Piper and Jason knew they were gonna blow up in the music industry. They knew that when they were first recording their own songs on youtube. Maybe they weren’t the best back then but dam they had an audience. From that point on they knew they’d be big but now, right before they went on stage it was cemented. This was the show where a lot of their favorite artists blew up and now it was their turn.

In their first three songs the trio easily switched from instrument to instrument in a musical chairs type way (except there were no losers). They played a cover of “Riptide” originally by Vance Joy as a starter. A cover of “Tear in My Heart” originally by Twenty Øne PilØts easily followed. Their last cover was “How Far We’ve Come” originally by Matchbox Twenty. Their next three songs were originals off of their album Chaos in Control. Their last song was a special that had never been recorded, it was called “Broadway Fevers”.

=

That one scene in “Clouds” was surprisingly accurate for Piper when she heard “Broadway Fever” being announced as the next song on the radio. She was driving to Percy’s mother’s house, with Jason in the passenger’s seat next to her and Percy in the back seat.

“Oh my god, oh my god -” She shoved Jason’s shoulder not taking her eyes off the road - “Beanie? Blueberry? Did you guys hear that?” She shoved Jason’s shoulder again before getting a small glance at Percy, who was already half asleep - hearing Piper's singing didn’t help either.

Jason turned to the back seat, “Should we wake him up?”

“Yes! He shouldn’t miss this!” Piper was vibrating in her seat. Their song was on the radio and this might’ve just been the best feeling in the world, although she’d easily trade it for her boys in a heartbeat.

Percy could be slow to wake up, but he could still detect the general vibe of the people around him from the get go. “Why are we listening to our song on youtube?” That didn’t mean he always connected the dots immediately.

“Try the radio instead,” Jason was less vibraty but he was definitely still hyped under his mellow patience.

“Wha..?”

“We’re on the radio!” Piper was still vibrating and she would not calm down until at least a few days later, and even then she was giddy but at that point they were all giddy.

[katsidhe]

could you share the descriptions of the answers? I'm bad at answering these quizzes cause I always get like 3 answers that fit but in different circumstances so I like seeing all of the descriptions

Yeah sure! I too wish uquiz gave an option to see all the result descriptions... alas. 

anyway here’s a wall of text, go nuts. 

DEAN-CODED DEAN GIRL

You might just be the hero of a YA fantasy novel or an action movie, because you have Big Protag Energy. You’re self-centered and extremely giving at the same time: you expect and demand absolute loyalty, just as you provide the same. Your love can move mountains, but if you’re not careful that same love can be suffocating or controlling. You’re volatile: you’ll cut a bitch and you don’t care who knows it. You’ll kick their ass. You’ll kick their dog’s ass. You’ll kick your own ass. You have a one-liner for every occasion. Your friends like you but would describe you as “a lot.” You’re magnetic: your charisma and sheer bull-headedness mean you stand out in every room. You’re polarizing, and you know it, but that doesn’t bother you: you know you’re right, and even when you’re wrong, you’re at least entertaining. You’re very “do as I say, not as I do:” you’re a bit of a hypocrite, but, like, in a fun way.  

Holotypes include: Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Thomas Jefferson (Hamilton), Sirius Black (Harry Potter), Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager), Katara (ATLA), Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED SAM GIRL

You are a charmer and a people-pleaser. You’re charismatic to a fault, when you want to be: whether consciously or not, you have a razor-keen sense of how others see you, and you mold yourself to expectations. You can either talk circles around most people, or you come across as so fundamentally honest that you gain everyone’s trust without trying. Your affable persona is built on a rock-solid sense of purpose. You have a steadfast, deadset fixation on your goals, which you know in your heart to be worth any cost and any sacrifice. Armed with iron conviction, you’re a rebel with a cause. Is it paranoia if they really are all out to get you? When you inevitably win, the whole world will know your name. Your strong sense of self will carry you through any hardship. Your friends look up to you, but they don’t always “get” you. 

Holotypes include: Lucifer (Supernatural), Eponine (Les Mis), Count Olaf (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Prince Zuko (ATLA), Samwise Gamgee (LOTR), Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED CAS GIRL 

Like all Dean-coded people, you are charming and affable, and you talk a big game. You might be the class clown or a popular athlete, or otherwise one of them cool kids, but underlying that public persona is a certain quiet idealism. You keep your strong convictions close to your heart, even when far from home or beset by strife. You’re fiercely loyal and you crave being around people, but you can see when your friends need space, and you can get along okay on your own. You’re not afraid to change your opinions if new information comes to light. Strangers find you easy to get along with: you tend to go along with the group, and you’re a team player no matter what needs to get done. Your chill-to-pull ratio is sky-high.

Holotypes include: Ahsoka (Star Wars), Meg (Supernatural), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter), Boromir (LOTR), Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

SAM-CODED DEAN GIRL

You come across as level headed, but you’re never more than an inch from going off the rails. Your highest values are love and personal loyalty, but you’re pragmatic about it, and you try very hard not to put unfair expectations on other people, with varying degrees of success. You spend a lot of time dealing with expectations; it’s something you either grapple with, or lean into to use to your own ends. You value your own sense of identity, but that identity can get subsumed by your loyalties. You can easily get pulled in or suborned by strong personalities. You keep secrets, both from yourself and from others. Who you want to be is at odds with how you see yourself. People meeting you for the first time might say you’re aloof. You have lots of strong opinions, but you usually keep them to yourself… unless provoked. Careful; you bite. 

Holotypes include: Mary Winchester (Supernatural), Harry Potter (Harry Potter), Aragorn (LOTR), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Julian Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) 

SAM-CODED SAM GIRL

Gifted kid (diagnosis). You were and maybe still are an outsider, and because of that you’ve had to learn to be self-sufficient and confident in your own abilities. You’re a fiercely independent overachiever, and you’ve fought hard for every inch. Somewhere inside you is a hot, long simmering rage born from the injustice of the world, but it’s buried very deep. You’d be more than content to be alone for long periods of time. You have sometimes crippling perfectionism: if you aren’t succeeding, it’s your fault for not trying hard enough. You’ll pick every kind of intellectual fight and throw yourself into playing devil’s advocate just to improve your understanding: you see the gray areas in everything. You’re aggressively big-picture. You want to, no, you MUST change the universe, but you don’t need to take credit for it. Your few friends might describe you as callous, but you know you’re just being realistic: you’ve got a harsh, clear-eyed sense of the world. No pain, no gain, and really, if you do the math, no single individual is all that important in the grand scheme of things.  

Holotypes include: Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter), Frodo Baggins (LOTR), Dirk Strider (Homestuck), Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

SAM-CODED CAS GIRL

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science!

Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

CAS-CODED DEAN GIRL

Much of your identity is tied up in a set of core beliefs - to the point where those beliefs might be strong enough to override your identity. You’re not beholden to any outside system. If you’re comfortable serving a larger common goal, it’s because you believe in it wholeheartedly. You’re action-oriented: you act first, and think later, or possibly never. You judge your friends solely based on what they do, and you tend to hold people accountable for any unforeseen consequences of their choices. You have strong personal loyalties. You’re not at the center of your social circle, but your friends trust you implicitly and the leader of your group tends to confide in you. You don’t seek power, but you’re also not afraid of taking charge, and you may find power thrust upon you. If you do find yourself in a position of leadership, you struggle with going too far or taking your friends in an unexpected direction. Whether you’re fighting in a war or making yourself a sandwich, you go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint.

Holotypes include: Castiel (Supernatural), Javert (Les Miserables), Captain Rex (Star Wars), Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck), Worf (Star Trek), Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

CAS-CODED SAM GIRL

I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re a bit weird. You are spacey or odd or otherwise out of step with how people think you should act, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter what they think, because if you’re sure of one thing, it’s that you should never mold your unique identity to other people’s expectations. You live internally: you’re all about grand, world-changing concepts, whether they be philosophical, artistic, or mathematical. You are grounded in the reality that you are one person and one viewpoint among many others, but that doesn’t stop you from writing your nine-hundred page thesis on the topic you’re passionate about. You can justify just about anything by the virtue of your personal convictions arising almost entirely from within yourself. Your identity can get swept up in your big ideas. You’re easier to sway with logic than with emotion, but you don’t feel the need to confine yourself with such terms: you operate on both vibes and flowcharts. You move through the world with the assurance that you are the master of your own fate, and you are unburdened by worrying about the opinions of others. You won’t let yourself feel pinned down by one social group; you float in and out comfortably, depending on how you’re feeling. Friends and strangers describe you as “spooky.”

Holotypes include: Azazel (Supernatural), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Aaron Burr (Hamilton), Princess Azula (ATLA), Yoda (Star Wars), Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

CAS-CODED CAS GIRL

You are chaotic and excitable. You’re swayed by the drive to explore: the greatest good is to understand the universe and your place in it. You’ve got big ideas, and you’re drawn to new experiences, but you don’t necessarily understand what’s going on. You might be a part of a bigger social machine, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be defined on its terms: you’ll self-actualize if it kills you. You identify new objects by licking them. You can see the strings of the world; what will you choose? You’ll take the reins and see where they take you. You say you’re following your own path. Your friends say you don’t know what you’re doing. Pragmatism? Never heard of her. A dream is a vision is a reality; ideas are the world writ large. You might be a prophet or a visionary. With your head in the clouds, you’re sometimes divorced from both reality and consequences. You’re usually on the outside looking in, and you don’t want to be. People think they understand you, but they definitely don’t. Your friends and enemies describe you as impulsive and mysterious. 

Holotypes include: Raphael (Supernatural), Uncle Iroh (ATLA), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Gandalf (LOTR)

[annabethy]

I need a date for this wedding + fake dating AUUUU

two in a million

in which percy and annabeth are on a date, and they realize that they’re only two people in a city of millions

Annabeth knew that this was a bad idea the second Percy brought it up. She should’ve shut it down, right then, but she didn’t and now she’s stuck at someone’s wedding in uncomfortable high heels and Percy’s hand alarmingly close to her ass.

All Percy has to do is take one look at her before he looks like he’s going to have a stroke from holding in his laughter.

Annabeth adjusts the sleeve of her black cocktail dress, roughly shoving his arm away from her. “Shut up.”

Percy isn’t deterred. His arm makes its way back to her waist, the other sneaking around this time so that she is trapped in his arms. He brushes his lips against her ear. “Do you really find me that repulsive?”

“Overbearingly so,” she grunts as she tries to pry his hands apart from in front of her. “Let go.”

She thinks Percy is going to fight her, just like he has done with everything she’s ever said in her entire life, but instead he let her slip out from his grasp, smothering a smile with his fist. “Do you need a break?”

Annabeth takes a moment to look outside the glass doors of the wedding venue. They’re high up in the building, and she can see the snowflakes swirling to the ground outside, but she was already imagining the cold wind against her cheeks. “Yeah,” she breathes, “I do.”

It takes a lot of winding in and out of the crowd before they’re even able to reach the doors. Annabeth isn’t entirely sure whose wedding this is, but she’d like to have a talk about the guest list because this was just insane. Percy holds open the door for her, which actually causes her to blink in surprise, before she slides through. The door closes with a click behind them, the blasting music fading to nothing but a dull thrum.

The wind feels icy against her skin as she approaches the railing of the terrace. It’s nighttime, and they’re so high up she can see everything in the New York skyline. The roads are bustling with people and cars because this is the city that never sleeps, and she watches it to calm herself down. She hadn’t even realized how tense she had been, but she supposes she’s always been that way in new situations.

Percy slides in next to her, leaning forwards and lacing his fingers together on the rail. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be honest and say that this is a little weird,” she says. Her eyes trace over every building in the horizon. “Being on a date with someone who hates you.”

“I don’t hate you,” he says. Annabeth shoots him a look. “I just strongly dislike you.”

“And somehow I ended up as your date to the wedding.”

“Thought the architecture in you would appreciate the skyline.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I’m being serious.”

Annabeth hums in doubt, and they fall back into silence. There’s something ethereal about New York at night. It’s sublime in a way, knowing that there are millions of people on this island, each with their own lives and own stories to tell. It’s a concept she can hardly grasp onto, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, she means nothing. To the people around her, sure, but she’s just one person in millions who are just trying to survive.

Annabeth sniffles, her nose beginning to run in the cold. Percy doesn’t offer her his jacket, and she appreciates it. She never been one to rely on another person like that.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, captivated by the glowing lights. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

“I did,” he states.

“Oh, yeah? What am I thinking then?”

Percy gives her a lopsided grin, barely illuminated in the night sky, before he’s looking back towards the roads. He breathes in deeply before answering. “You’re thinking that everything around us is insane. This view, right here, is heavenly, transcendent—”

“Look at you using big words.”

“—and it’s meaningless. Something so beautiful would mean something surely, but it really doesn’t. We’re two people, just like there are two people stepping into a taxi on fifth avenue, or two people walking along the sidewalk. We’re just human, and it doesn’t really mean anything.” He turns to her. “Sure, we all think we’re important, because we’re the center of our own universe. But if you think about it, we’re really only here for maybe seventy years. Whatever we think we accomplish isn’t going to matter in a century or two.”

Annabeth laughs softly. “You’re making me doubt my existence.”

“That’s what you were thinking though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was. How did you know?”

“I just know you, Annabeth.”

And it’s weird, because this is the boy that she’s been competing with for years. They’re constantly at each other’s throats, trying to one up the other, and it’s exhausting, but invigorating at the same time. Still, to know that he knows her as well as he does is… she doesn’t quite know. “Well, as your supposed enemy, it’s my job to disagree with you,” Percy continues. “People do matter. They won’t last forever, but their legacy will.”

Annabeth smirks at him, shifting in an attempt to stay warm in the biting wind. “How so?”

“Time can destroy a lot of things, but it can’t destroy art. It can’t destroy peoples’ words.”

“You think so?”

“Isn’t that the whole reason you wanted to go into architecture? To build something permanent?”

She pauses and her heart speeds up. It’s something she said the first time she met him, and never again since then. It was shared across a late-night library run when they were both studying for their first final, and he had been so distracted she thought he hadn’t even heard her. “You remember that?”

He tilts his head. “Of course I do, Annabeth.”

“I’ve never heard that before,” she muses. “Art is the only thing that time cannot conquer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Think Shakespeare, or Van Gogh. They’re still remembered to this day. And most people aren’t famous until after they die, so even if you think you’re nothing but a tiny speck in this universe, just know that the people after you might cherish the ground you walk on.” Percy lifts himself off the railing. “You, Annabeth Chase, are going to make a difference.”

It’s weird, coming from Percy. They’re at some random person’s wedding, and she’s not even sure Percy knows the bride or groom, yet here they are, standing on a balcony over fifty floors high. It’s all so surreal.

A shiver rakes over Annabeth’s body, and this time Percy doesn’t hesitate before he’s shrugging off the jacket to his suit and resting it over her shoulders. She protests for only a second, but then the warmth is settling in and she can’t bring herself to take it off. It smells subtly of him too, and she never realized how much she likes that before now.

“If it means anything, you’re going to make a difference too,” Annabeth says, looking him directly in his eyes. She can sense something different in the way he was looking at her. It was something she’s never seen before.

“Not all of us were meant to make a difference,” he says. “And that’s okay.”

“Not all of us were,” she agrees, “but something tells me that you were.”

He gives her a soft grin. “Thank you.”

And it’s too soft. This moment is something new to the both of them, and she feels a magnetic pull between them, so she forces herself to back up. “Hey, I didn’t say it was a good difference. Maybe you’re going to push me off this building, and that’ll be your legacy.”

Percy precariously looks over the edge of the building. “Nah. I’d want to be a little bit higher first, you know? Make sure it’s foolproof.”

“Fifty floors not enough for you?”

He laughs again and says nothing else. Their eyes lock once again, and she can’t bring herself to look away this time.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he says, looking back through the glass doors. The party is still in full throttle, and it looks so warm with the hundreds of fairy lights strewn up, but somehow, she doesn’t want to go back inside yet. “I really appreciate it.”

“I still don’t know why you needed me here.”

“I already told you. I thought you would enjoy the view.”

“You were serious about that?”

“I thought we already covered that.”

“Yeah, but.” Annabeth swallows her tongue. “Thank you.”

Percy shuffles his feet for a few seconds. “Okay, so there is something else I should probably tell you still.”

Her face falls. “What?”

“It’s not bad or anything.”

She breathes a sigh of relief.

“Maybe.”

And suddenly, she’s back to panicking.

“So you’re already aware that you’re my date to this thing. We’ve got that covered.”

“Mh-hm.”

“At the end of the night, you’re going to have to kiss me.”

Annabeth does a doubletake. “I’m sorry. What?”

“My aunt is kind of crazy, and she does this thing at weddings where the couples all take one big group picture, and there’s always one where they’re kissing.”

“But… we’re not a couple?”

“That’s another thing.”

“Perseus Jackson.”

“I told them that we were dating?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I panicked! She can be really pushy!”

Annabeth rubs her eyes, forgetting entirely about the full face of makeup she has on. “So you mean to tell me that you told your aunt that we’re dating?”

“Yes.”

“And now we have to kiss in front of what could be hundreds of people?”

“You got it.”

“I’m going to murder you.” She takes a deep breath. “There has to be a way out of it. We can just say that we’re still pretty new to this, and just don’t feel like it’s the best idea to be a part of the picture.”

“That might work.”

Annabeth claps once. “Good.”

“Except I told them that we’ve been dating for two years.”

“You told them what?”

“I think they’re expecting a proposal soon.”

“I—” She lets out a strangled scream. “Why wouldn’t you tell them you were with Rachel or something?!”

“Ew. I don’t like Rachel.”

“And you think I’m any better!?”

“It appears so.” Percy watches her pace around, the tiniest gleam of humor in his eyes. “It’s just one kiss.”

“It’s just one kiss,” she mocks. “This is embarrassing.”

“I won’t make you do it, but it’ll look really weird if you don’t.”

“I hate you.”

“So you do find me that repulsive then,” Percy says. “Nice to know.”

“I do not!”

And Percy grins mischievously. “I know. Piper told me the things you said about me.”

She chokes. “I’m going to kill both of you now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Why are you not more panicked?”

“Because it’s just a kiss.”

She nods and swallows hard. “Just a kiss. You’re right. We can do this.”

Percy bites his bottom lip, and she knows he’s fighting laughter with every fiber of his being.

“Stop laughing at me,” she scolds. She looks around once, and the balcony is empty of everyone except them. “Should we… practice?”

It’s Percy’s turn to look surprised. “Practice kissing?”

“Yes.”

“If— if you want to.”

Annabeth nods her head. “I feel like we should so we don’t humiliate ourselves out there.”

Percy shrugs, and a second later, he’s tugging her forwards by her waist. She manages to withhold the shriek, pressing her hand to his chest to steady herself. She feels dizzy standing here in his grasp.

“You okay?” he asks again, looking at her in alarm.

“I’m great,” she responds weakly.

“Are you okay with this?”

She nods once. “Yes. Just get on with it.”

Percy slowly drags her chin up before he captures her lips with his. They stand still as statues, both of them too afraid to move. It’s painfully awkward for both parties, and when he pulls away, she fights the urge to burst out laughing in his face.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

“It was terrible.”

“Downright awful.”

Annabeth starts giggling, and she drops her forehead against his chest. He brings his hand to rest on her back, smothering a grin into the top of her hair. It’s suddenly as though a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, so she lifts her head again.

“Should we try again?” she asks.

“I mean.”

Annabeth falters. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No,” he says, grinning. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Annabeth.”

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Her heart stops, and everything fades into the distance. Cars are honking on the ground below, and people are dancing in the room behind her, but all she can focus on is them. He’s looking at her so earnestly with something akin to love, and she knows that this must have been building for a long time. Maybe from the second she first met him, but it was always going to come down to this moment here. A moment shared between the two of them and no one else.

The space between them slowly disappears until they’re only inches away from one another. She shouldn’t be surprised that this is what it’s come down to. She was kidding herself if she thought that being his fake date was all that this was.

“Then kiss me,” she whispers.

He does.

It’s like a spark of electricity flows between them now, and it’s nothing like anything she’s ever felt before. It’s perfect, and it’s something that she never wants to forget. She presses herself harder against him, feeling him smile against her.

When he does pull away, she’s breathless. He gazes at her with so much emotion that she could break down into tears right then and there, but she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. They sway back and forth silently until Percy speaks up.

“Damn it,” he laughs. “Does this mean that our first real kiss was at someone else’s wedding?”

“I guess so,” she says.

“Is it bad that I don’t want our first date to be someone’s wedding whose name you don’t even know?”

“Not at all.”

Percy brings his face back to hers to kiss her one more time. “What do you say we get out of here and go on a real date?”

It’s close to midnight, but they live in New York. They have all the time in the world. So she says, with a smile against his lips, “Let’s make it a night to remember.”

And so with one hand in his, Percy leads her back inside. Annabeth throws one glance over her shoulder to look at the glowing night sky, and they’re only two people in a city with millions. Maybe they’re not extraordinary, and maybe every person has a story to tell, but this story is hers and she’s going to make it count.

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 3

Percy's POV

Confession time: I ditch Grover as soon as we get to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover is kinda freaking me out, looking at me like I am a dead man, muttering, "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be the sixth grade?"

Whenever he gets upset, Grover's bladder acts up, so I'm not surprised when, as soon as we get off the bus, he makes me promise to wait for him, then makes a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I get my suitcase, slip outside, and catch the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-forth and First," I tell the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting mine and (Y/n)'s dad.

We didn't have any memories of him, just this warm sort of glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. Our mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad; she has no pictures.

See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom had told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me and my twin on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along...well, when I came home is a good example.

I walk into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN. Chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's Mom and (Y/n)?" I wonder aloud.

"Your mom's working," he says. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

"I don't have any cash," I toll him.

"Here," comes a voice, holding out a ten to the man.

Instantly, a smile sneaks its way onto my face.

"Hey, Perc," my twin sister says with a smile.

(Y/n)'s POV

I grab my brother's suitcase and carry it into his room; I set it down on the bed.

"You wanna come sit in my room?" I ask and Percy nods, a smile still on his face.

I lead the way to my room and when I open the door, Percy sinks into my desk chair.

"Percy?" comes our mom's voice.

She opens my bedroom door.

Our mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Percy or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy," she hugs her son tightly. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas.

Percy's POV

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sit together on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed. While I attack the blueberry sour strings, (Y/n) stealing a few pieces of candy from the bag, Mom runs her hand through my hair and demands to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She doesn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right? The whole time, (Y/n)'s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I tell Mom she is smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her and (Y/n).

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I grit my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I try to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I tell her I'm not too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convince myself. I start choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly doesn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum...

"What?" my mom asks. Her and my sister's eyes tug at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I feel back for lying. I want to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I think it'd sound stupid.

Mom purses her lips. Both she and (Y/n) could tell I was holding back, but neither push me.

(Y/n)'s POV

"I have a surprise for both of you," Mom says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin."

"When?" I ask excitedly.

Mom smiles. "As soon as I get changed."

I can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in my doorway and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

"I've got it," I offer, rising from the bed and walking out into the kitchen to make the dip for Mom.

An hour later, we are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch me and Percy lug Mom's bags to the car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her cooking - and most importantly, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, you two," he warns us as I load the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like we'd be the ones driving. We're twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame us.

We get into the Camero, me in the passenger's seat, and Percy in the back.

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of the Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There is always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

Percy and I love the place.

We'd been going there since Percy and I were babies. Our mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place she'd met mine and Percy's dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turning the color of the sea.

We arrive at the cabin, open all the cabin windows, and go through our usual cleaning routine. We walk on the beach, feed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and much on jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told Mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a small thing at the time. But ever since, Mom had gone out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - alone with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write when she gets enough money to quit the candy shop.

Finally, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what was always on our minds when we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure that she was going to tell us the same things she always said, but neither Percy and I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom says. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, two. You have his black hair, you know, Percy, and you both have his green eyes."

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy, (Y/n). He would be so proud."

Percy's POV

I wondered how she could say that. What's so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of the school for the sixth time in six years.

"How old were we?" I ask. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But...he knew us as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting twins, but he never saw you two. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

(Y/n) and I had always assumed that he had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, we'd always felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I realize I feel angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom. He'd left us, and now we are stuck with Smelly Gable.

"Are you sending me away again?" I ask her. "To another boarding school."

She pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Mom's voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. (Y/n) bows her head, looking at the ground and Mom's eyes well with tears.

Mom takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words remind me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I say.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe.

"Safe from what?"

She meets my eyes, and a flood of memories comes back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me and (Y/n), some of which we'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked us on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed (Y/n) when she'd told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I know I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I can't make myself tell her. I have a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I don't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom says. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just...I just can't stand to do it."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask, a little confused.

"Not a school," she says softly. "A summer camp."

My head starts spinning. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me and Percy be born - talk about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp.

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression that if either of us ask her any more questions, she would start to cry.

I have a weird, vivid dream. It is storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle are trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swoops down and slashes the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse rears up and kicks at the eagle's wings. As they fight, the ground rumbles and a monstrous voice chuckles somewhere and beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I run towards them, knowing I have to stop them from killing each other, but I am running in slow motion. I know I am too late. I see the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I scream, No!

I wake with a start.

Outside, it really is storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There is no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom and Percy wake. Mom sits up, eyes wide, and says, "Hurricane."

I know that's crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seems to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I hear a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that makes my hair stand on end.

Percy's POV

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice - someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother springs out of bed in her nightgown and throws open the lock.

Grover stands framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he isn't . . . he isn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasps. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looks at me in terror - not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she says, having to shout to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I am frozen, looking at Grover. I can't understand what I'm seeing, and I see (Y/n) looking at my friend.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yells. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I am too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I am too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover doesn't have pants on - and where his legs should be . . . where his legs should be . . .

Mom looks at me sternly and talks in a tone she'd never used before, and (Y/n) flinches: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammer something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stares at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabs her purse, tosses me and (Y/n) our rain jackets, and says, "Get the car. All three of you. Go!"

Grover runs for the Camero - but he isn't running, exactly. He is trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs makes sense to me. I understand how he can run so fast and still limp when he walks.

Because where his feet should be, there are no feet. There are cloven hooves.

Word Count: 3041 words

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 2

Summary: y/n gets knocked around by a water monster, has secret-sharing time with peter, and decides mj is more important than her pride. sleep deprivation and caffeine consumption are definitely involved. 

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 3978 give or take

A/N: endgame is canon, *vomits*, but we’ve all got a thing for broken peter parker, even if all i want is his never ending happiness

                                                         ///////////

“I can’t believe you punched Flash.” Brad, of course, decided to sit next to me on the gondola ride to the hotel. Figures.

“You better believe it, ‘cuz it actually happened.” I tried to pay as little attention to him as possible and just take pictures on my phone, but he kept talking.

“Why don’t you like me?”

I groaned. “Because, Brad, you ask stupid questions like that.”

We pulled up to the hotel and were all sufficiently underwhelmed.

“It’s flooded!”

“The hotel is sinking?”

I considered helping the hotel out, at least while we stayed at it, but there wasn’t much hope left for it. I took my room key and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have a room on the ground level. In fact, I was sharing with MJ. I waited patiently behind her as she jiggled the door open.

“Is it safe to assume the building will crumble any second now?”

MJ burst out laughing. “I think that’s an understatement.”

“If I get TB, I’m suing.”

“The hotel?”

“Harrington.”

She smiled. “C’mon, let’s get outside before we drown.”

We walked along the water and let the sun happily reflect on our exhausted faces. Everyone was enjoying themselves, but I was starting to feel queasy. It was almost imperceptible, but I could feel the city moving with the water, and it was making me sick. I started lagging back and tried to find my “sea legs,” but Peter noticed and stuck back too. “You alright?”

I plastered on a weak smile. “That long flight is catching up with me. I’m just going to grab an espresso, I’ll meet up with you guys soon.” He looked at me one more time before nodding and meeting the rest of the group.

I didn’t completely lie — I was getting an espresso. But I wasn’t going to catch up with them, at least, not for a while. I needed to get away from the water, even just for a little bit.

I can’t fly, per se. I can control the air currents around me and change them how I want them too, like I did on the airplane with the turbulence. I can do that with most elements, (except wood, I hate wood) and that gives me a heightened awareness of them. I’m basically the Avatar and the characters from Percy Jackson. All I have to do is shave my head and tattoo blue arrows on my body. (And, yes, I did watch all seven seasons of the two series and read all ten Percy Jackson books to actually figure out what the hell it was that I could do. It helped. Clearly.)

I just lifted myself to the top of the coffee shop. I’m a sucker for espresso, I like to be close to it. The distance helped. I felt grounded enough to walk on the normal streets of Venice again, but when I touched down, I suddenly lurched to the right.

“What the hell,” I muttered. I got my answer soon enough. A huge river monster was crashing its giant water arms on anything it could see. And I was directly in its path. “Oh, shit.”

I shouldn’t have been as terrified as I was. I mean, come on, I can control water. Dissipate the water man, Y/N, I can almost hear you yelling at me. Shut up, I was scared. This thing was twice as tall as any of the buildings, and it had a direct path to anywhere in the city. Me, a seventeen year old girl, against that? Not a good idea.

So, like any logical human being, I ran. And I still got clobbered with water and ended up actually falling into the water. Let me just tell you, Italy needs to get a Brita, ‘cause their river is nasty.

But, once I was actually in the water, the river monster looked a lot less intimidating. Sure, the water was churning around and sucking everything into its path, but I was in my element — literally. I got close to it, like, really close. I pushed against the flow of the water and tried to stop the monster from forming, and it worked, for a little bit. It slowed down, and I got some newfound momentum, when all of the sudden, it all stopped, and tons of water crashed to the surface. That was my cue to leave, but then something caught my eye. A flash of metal was in the water. Luck would have it, though, that I could bend water and metal (shout out to Toph Beifong). I latched onto the metal and pulled it close to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Didn’t mean I would trash it though, this water was disgusting enough. I tucked it in my pocket and started swimming to the surface.

I got out of the water actually pretty close to the rest of the class, but I was the only one completely drenched.

“Oh, Y/N, good! We’re all here,” Mr. Harrington celebrated. “Let’s get back to the hotel, your families will want to know you’re all fine.”

“You’re soaked.”

I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold. The temperature difference between the water and the air was enough to make me shake. “Astute observation, Brad.”

“Here, you can have my jacket.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want it.” I kept walking and managed to bump into Peter. “You got wet too?”

“Just splashed. Did you get thrown in?”

“Yeah, the bastard caught me by surprise. I’m okay, just cold.”

“Here.” Peter slung his backpack around and took out a mostly dry sweatshirt. He gestured it my way, but I didn’t take it. “It’s just a jacket, Y/N. You’ll get a cold with your hair dripping all around you.”

I knew that wasn’t how colds worked, but I took it anyway and let it soak in the water from my hair. It helped, surprisingly, at least making me not shiver. We made it back to the hotel with no other complications, aside from Flash tripping over his own shoelace because he was too busy recording for his Instagram followers to pay attention to where he was going. I quickly went upstairs and changed out of my clothes, putting on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that used to belong to Jessica. The room had a tiny balcony, and I took advantage of it and laid out all of my clothes and Peter’s sweatshirt. The last thing MJ or I needed was a puddle of water to slip in.

I went back downstairs and sat close to the top of the stairs, not wanting to get anywhere near the water at the bottom. MJ was a few steps below me, and Peter was leaning against the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. He hung up, and I slipped past MJ and wrapped around to the phone. I was about to dial, when I remembered something. “Hey, Peter.”

“What’s up?”

I pulled him away from the stairs and whispered, “Is the plan still working?”

“The—oh, that plan. Uh, yeah, I think so. I got her this necklace of a black dahlia from a glass shop, and I want to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

I smiled. “That’s adorable. I’m going to use the phone, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” We smiled at each other, then I grabbed the receiver and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh my—John, it’s her. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Harrington wanted all of us to call our parents, so this is me, doing my due diligence. We’re still set for Paris tomorrow, so I’ll call you then, okay? Love you.” I didn’t even really wait for them to respond before I hung up. Truth was, I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but I had to make one more phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jess, it’s Y/N. You watch the news nonstop, so I figured I’d call, let you know I’m okay.”

“Thank god, I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“This water monster literally came out of nowhere and knocked me straight into the murky junk, it was disgusting.”

“Were you able to help at all?” Jess was one of two other people in the world who knew about what I could do. She was the one who bought me the tv shows and books, of course she knew.

“I slowed it down at some point, but then all of a sudden it just dissipated, it was weird. I did find this weird metal thing in the water, I picked it up. I’ll send you a picture of it when I get the chance.”

“Okay. Call me soon, got it?”

“Count on it. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore, so I walked up the stairs, ready to succumb to the moldy mattress in my room. Unfortunately, I had to collect my clothes.

Everything was nearly dry, and Peter’s sweatshirt was definitely dry, so I brought them inside. I almost didn’t want to give Peter his sweatshirt back, just because it was so soft, but knowing him, it was probably the only one he brought, so I walked the ten feet to his front door and knocked. I wasn’t told not to enter, so I turned the knob and walked in. “Hey, Pete, I—“ I stopped with my hand by my face, terrified. A small dart was less than an inch away from my palm. I turned to the man in the corner who was holding the gun. “Did you just try to shoot me?”

“You’re the one who came barging in.” The scary looking guy with the eyepatch leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

I laughed heartlessly. “Ha, yeah, like I’m going to tell the man who just pulled a gun on me.” I looked at Peter and threw his jacket at him. “I brought this back.” Then I turned to the man in the chair. I crunched the dart, letting it fold on top of itself before his eyes, then I let it fall to the floor. “You can keep that.” I looked at Peter one more time, then slammed the door on my way out.

MJ was laying on her bed when I walked back in, but she could tell something was up. She had impeccable observational skills. “You good?”

I was pacing, a bad habit I picked up after The Snap first happened. “I just need to look something up.”

“Well, the hotel might be sinking, but they’ve at least got good wifi.”

I finally sat and opened my laptop, then turned on my VPN and put the whole device on ‘incognito mode.’ I had some serious investigations to conduct, I didn’t need the government to see what I was doing. Okay, I only had one serious investigation, but that could possibly have lead to more, so I kept my guard up.

First search: scary-looking black man with an eyepatch. The guy’s face was the first image that popped up. Nick Fury. Ex-director of SHIELD before all of that went to shit. Now he’s running some ‘underground’ SHIELD, I guess. Now I know the guy’s name.

But why was he talking to Peter? And why did he shoot me?

I was up all night doing research. Not just on Nick Fury, but on the metal piece I had found in the water, the Avengers, and as much as I could find on Peter Parker himself. Sooner than I thought, the sun peeked between the curtains at the window and MJ’s alarm came blaring through the speakers on her phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and finally taking a break from my computer screen.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Are you going to yell at me if I say no?” MJ just pursed her lips. I knew she wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all nighter. At least this one was productive.

“What’s on your bed?” She picked up a small spring and looked it over before putting it back beside the rest of the pieces of the metal thing. “Did you take apart your toothbrush?”

I chuckled. “No, I found this thing in the river when I got knocked in. I didn’t know what it was, so I took it apart.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“Not yet.” I rubbed my eyes again and groaned. “We’re going to Paris today, right?”

“Yeah.” MJ stood and stretched and I caught the smallest smile on her face when she replied. I smiled too and packed up my project. Something for another late night.

We were escorted outside with our luggage in tow, but Mr. Harrington happily informed us we would be taking a bus to Prague instead of a train to Paris. You’ve got to be kidding.

Peter was walking to the bus in front of me, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You can control metal?” He was in awe. His admiration would’ve been flattering if I wasn’t so pissed.

“You had Nick Fury in your room last night. I almost got shot last night. What the hell is going on?”

“It was only a tranquilizer, you would’ve been fine—“

“That’s not the point, Parker!” I basically hissed at him. He looked a little surprised that I was so upset. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to not start shouting. “We were attacked by a water monster, I almost got shot, I didn’t sleep, and now four people in the world know what I can do, so give me some damn answers, because I sure as hell deserve them.”

Peter looked around, like he was looking for an escape, but I was ready. I might not have slept in almost 48 hours, but I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

Then Harrington was calling us over to the bus. Perfect timing.

“Can we talk on the bus?”

I nodded and let him lead the way to the back. Surprisingly we were the only ones that occupied those seats and the ones surrounding, but that’s what happens when you get a bunch of nerds in the same vehicle—they all sit in the front. He sat low in his seat, and I did the same, and I let him start the conversation. Prying it out of him wouldn’t be too successful, I figured, not with something like this.

We got fifteen minutes out of the city before he started talking. “Fury wanted me to go with him to meet this guy who defeated the Elemental yesterday.”

“Why you? And what’s an Elemental?”

“The water monster, it’s called an Elemental. And he asked me because I’m—I’m,” his voice dropped to an even lower whisper, “I’m Spider-Man.”

I almost didn’t believe him.

I almost burst out laughing at the hilarity of it all. Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Ridiculous.

But, remember, I learned from Toph Beifong. I can tell when people are lying.

And Peter?

Peter wasn’t lying.

Well, shit.

How do I even respond to something like that?

“Okay.” Good one. “Who was the other guy you met with?”

“You—you’re not surprised?”

Oh, young Parker, I was dumbfounded. But I had learned two years earlier how to control my heart rate, so he would never know how freaked out I actually was.

“You saw me stop a dart mid-air, Peter, you being Spider-Man is hardly out of the ordinary.”

He looked relieved, but he still hadn’t answered my question.

“Who was the other guy?”

“Oh. His name is Quentin Beck. He’s—“ another low whisper, “he’s from an alternate universe. He fought the Elementals before, and he and them got sucked into our universe when Tha—Hulk brought everyone back.” He didn’t look me in the eye when he talked about the snaps. I wouldn’t either, but I felt the little blip his heart made at the mention of Thanos’s name, so I didn’t push. Even though Quentin Beck and his story sounded like bullshit.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Peter looked at me skeptically, but hooked up his mask to his phone. A somewhat blurry picture of Quentin Beck popped up, and he sent it to me, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “I just want to know who to look out for. If I start chucking rocks at people, I don’t want to hit the wrong one.” The lie seemed to relax him a little bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, I did want to know who to look out for, but I also wanted to find this guy in our universe. “What’s the plan now?”

“They think another one will pop up in Prague—“

“Peter, we’re driving toward Prague. Shouldn’t we be going away from it?”

“I have to help fight this thing—“

“Let the Beck guy do it!” My voice had risen above a whisper and Peter quickly shushed me. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”

“They need my help, I can—“

“Peter.” He kept muttering, convincing himself he needed to help, but I wasn’t having it. “You don’t have to save the world, Peter.”

That got him to shut up.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t owe the world a goddamn thing.”

“Help me.” That got me to shut up. “Help me fight the Elemental.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re one of the only people who can! The next one that’s coming, they’re pretty sure it’s the fire elemental, and any time it absorbs metal it can get stronger. You can help us beat it by keeping the metal away from it!”

Oh. He didn’t know I could do more than that.

“Peter, I — ”

“Please.” Peter Parker had the best puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen in my life. But I wasn’t convinced.

“I’m here for a school trip, Pete, not to save the world.”

It’s like I sucker punched him. He deflated immediately and looked away, and I got up and moved a few rows ahead.

I wasn’t opposed to helping, but I didn’t want to get near Quentin Beck until I had a full story on him. And that would take a lot of research and caffeine.

“Hey, Eugene.” We had stopped for a bathroom break and he was still using his phone to update his Instagram followers on all of the happenings on our way to Prague.

“Are you here to break my jaw again, Y/L/N?”

I looked at his face and didn’t see any swelling, barely any discoloration. “Nope, you’re healing nicely, I’m impressed. Do you have a hotspot?”

“Why do you think I have a hotspot?”

“Because you’ve been on your phone the entire trip.”

“What will you do for me if I let you on it?”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. Of course he would ask for a favor. “Anything. Within reason.”

“Can I cash in on the favor later?”

Goddamnit. “Sure, whatever.”

He laughed maniacally. “Okay, Flash Hotspot is the user, and spidermanrocks is the password, no spaces, no caps.”

“Really, Eugene, you went with that password?” I almost had to laugh. He would have an aneurysm if he knew who was really Spider-Man.

“What?”

“It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What were you doing with Parker?”

“Plotting the downfall of the European Union.” I let out a laugh. “We were talking about the water monster, and how there’s a light festival in Prague that’d be cool to go to.”

“Gonna go on a date with Penis Parker?”

“I was actually thinking about asking Brad.” That made Flash laugh, and I smiled myself. “But seriously, stop calling him that.”

“Whatever.”

Peter looked flustered as he got back on the bus, but I didn’t pry. But Brad looked awfully smug as he sat beside MJ. Focus, Y/N, you have to find Quentin Beck. I hunkered down in my seat and slipped my headphones over my ears, then logged onto Flash’s hotspot and got to work.

The number of illegal websites I went on was not something I’m willing to admit out loud, but I couldn’t find anything. Not a single facial-recognition scan showed any results for Quentin Beck, and I tried as many as I could get my hands on. But the more I looked at his face, the more I felt like I’d seen him before. And honestly, it was pissing me off.

I stared at the image on my phone, and I had a gut feeling it had to do with Tony Stark. This Beck guy was somehow connected to Stark. It’s like the answer was on the tip of my tongue. I rubbed my temples in frustration, wishing I could just reach into my memory and pull out the information when it hit me. “Memory, you’re so stupid, Y/N.”

Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, affectionately called B.A.R.F. was presented by Tony Stark at a lecture he did at MIT almost seven years ago. But this guy had released a paper about it six months before—a guy named Quentin Beck. I remembered reading about it for a school project, and the picture of the guy was the same person Peter met.

“There’s no way.”

I looked up the article, and sure enough, I was right. Quentin Beck was the scientist behind the technology, and he was an employee for Stark Industries when the article was published.

Great, now I had to break into Stark Industries and access their archives while on a hotspot provided by Eugene Thompson. Lucky for me, we pulled into the parking lot for our much improved hotel, which meant free wifi. Unlucky for me, Mr. Harrington now felt he needed to start bossing us around, considering he was the teacher. Which meant I had to put my investigations to the side. For now.

“Okay, kids, grab your room keys, same roommates as before. Meet back in the lobby at five o’clock for the light festival!”

MJ and I dragged our cases up to the third floor. We each chose a bed, but she was moody, more than her usual angst. But I didn’t have time to play therapist. “Did we get a wifi password?”

“Uh, yeah.” She passed over the card after logging in herself and sat on her bed, glancing back at me every ten seconds.

I was typing away madly, but her stares were making me uncomfortable. “Why are you staring?”

She looked away quickly. “I’m not staring.”

“You were totally staring.” I kept clicking and typing. “What?”

“What are you looking for? I know you stayed up all last night on your computer.”

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Not a very hard one, but it’s still the question. This secret isn’t mine to make public, though. “I’m trying to prove someone wrong.”

“Who?”

I hesitated. “Peter.”

“Why do you need to prove him wrong?”

“Because he’s gotten his idyllic little hopes up and I want to squash them like a bug.” I glanced at her and smirked. “I’m kidding. I just don’t think he’s right about something, and I’m proving it.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced. “You’re coming to the light festival, right?”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was pulling her long sleeves over her wrists and switching her weight from foot to foot—uncomfortable as hell. I gave her a genuine smile and closed my computer. “Wouldn’t miss it. Wanna help me figure out what to wear?”

Friends come before saving the world any day.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries​

[darthkvznblogs]

From His Vantage Upon the Moon #1

Thor, Doctor Strange, and the Olympians

(MCU x Percy Jackson and the Olympians x Supergiant Games' Hades)

It's rather bad form for a visiting god not to check in with the local deities; Thor's already missed two visits, so he really oughta visit Mount Olympus - though in his defense, being cast out by Odin really shouldn't count. Fortunately, Doctor Strange is willing to play mediator between the typically fickle pantheons.

(From His Vantage upon the Moon is a collection of one-shot stories set in the Kryptonverse, an MCU based crossover universe including over 16 franchises so far. You can find the original work here, but I'll also be posting each short story here on Tumblr, too! If you like what I do, and would like to support me, you can find me on Ko-fi!)

“Are you entirely certain you wish to accompany me, Sorcerer?” –Thor asks, raising an eyebrow as they stand just outside the Empire State Building. Despite the fact that they’re in street clothes, Thor’s outrageously chiseled physique keeps drawing quite a few lascivious gazes, much to Stephen’s chagrin.

“Were it truly up to me, I’d be happy to let you make a fool of yourself.” –he drawls. “My duties, however, require me to mediate your reunion.”

Thor hums. “I don’t recall requiring a mediator during my last visit.” –he grouses. “The Lords of Olympus were quite amenable to our brief presence on Midgard back then.”

“That was then, and this is now. Earth has changed quite a bit in your absence.” –Strange argues. “The Olympians and their demigod children, in particular, have suffered through quite a bit of turmoil in the past few decades – particularly so in the last five years. Compounded with the thinning of the Mist, they’re bound to be wary of anyone outside their immediate circle of trust. Even if you were a friend.”

“Ah. I see.” –Thor mutters. “Strange, is it not? Their own troubles, Loki’s betrayal and the bandit rampage throughout the Nine Realms...we’ve had centuries of peace, and now this. So much has happened in so little time.”

Strange sighs. “I’m afraid this could just be the beginning. But this isn’t the time for that.” –he says. “Let’s hurry along. You have an invasion to repel.”

The god and the sorcerer walk into the building. A security guard stands beside the elevator – less a person and more a magical security measure meant to dissuade mortals (and even some demigods) from entering the gods’ abode. The guard recognizes Strange, though, and merely waves him into the elevator – though not before shooting Thor a vaguely hostile look.

“Odd custom, this.” –Thor notes, as Strange punches in their destination – floor 600. “Moving their home around so often – seems rather a hassle. What’s wrong with the original Mount Olympus?”

“The Olympians like to chase the most powerful nations around, eager for worship as they are. Right now, America’s at the top of the food chain.” –Strange retorts. “Though I hear they’re considering moving back to Greece as part of their big PR strategy. This part of the world is getting rather crowded, rather fast – and Greece could certainlyuse the tourism it’d bring, once they reveal themselves to the world.”

“I remember their strange worship-sustenance, yes.” –Thor recalls as he raises an eyebrow. “Have the mortals truly forgotten us?”

Strange shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Your kind may have become myths, but we still retell them in many forms. That being said, very few people believe in the gods – and I’m not entirely certain that they think of you as you truly are. You and your kin, in particular, have drawn some rather nastyfollowers in the past century or so.”

Thor winces. “Jane mentioned as much, during my brief stay. Something about ‘perfect Arian men’.” –he mutters, disheartened. “Hatred and fear twist the minds of gods and mortals alike. Such it has been as long as I’ve lived.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. It’s up to us to set the record straight.” –Stephen says.

Thor nods as the elevator dings, opening to the golden gates and pristine marble of Olympus. “Aye, that we are.”

The duo make their way forth, magically changing into their mystical regalia. Lesser gods and nature spirits look on in surprise and curiosity as Thor cheerfully greets them, giggling nymphs and naiads huddling into gossiping circles. The throne room sits atop a small cliff, like the Parthenon in Athens, overlooking the entire realm and the hazy mortal world, barely visible below.

When they enter, Strange can’t help but be surprised; it’s been maybe a month since he was last on Olympus, and yet he can barely recognize the figures sat on each of the thirteen thrones, each of them at least thirty feet tall – the only exception being the hooded figure of Hestia, placidly sat within the flames of the hearth in the middle of the room.

“Venerable Lords and Ladies of Olympus.” –Stephen half bows. “The Mighty Thor, Firstborn of Odin, God of Thunder, Strength, and Fertility, would request an audience of you.”

The god at the head of the Pantheon leans forward. King Zeus looks very different – his skin is a few shades darker than Strange remembers, closer to the olive tones of the Greek, and his more or less sensible black hair and beard have dramatically changed to become cloud-like in appearance, billowing in the ever-present wind of the divine mountaintop. Gone, too, is his perfectly tailored suit – he is clad in a golden toga, accented in white, and a plethora of rings adorn his hands, one of which casually holds the Master Bolt. A crown of stylized lightning sits atop his head. “Master Sorcerer.” –he greets, his voice booming like distant thunder. “And the Lord Thor. Welcome to Olympus.”

“Do forgive the lack of appropriate fanfare in your reception.” –Queen Hera says, beside him, snow-white robes adorned with a golden belt and peacock feathers, sprouting like a corona behind her head. “Dragging our family together for such an impromptu visit proved a more difficult endeavor than we anticipated.”

The thirteenth god scoffs, at Zeus’ left. Lord Hades crosses his arms, ashen-skinned, bushy-bearded, and much more muscular than Strange remembers him – perhaps the most visually different of them all. A crown of burning laurels, matching his flaming feet, compliments his blood-colored chiton, and precious stones of all kinds adorn his hands and arms. “Then perhaps you should have done with the few of you who were already present, Sister Hera. Blood and Darkness, but this is a waste of my time.” –he curses, leering at their guests with black and red eyes. “Curse the day your spawn so nobly decided to include me in these affairs, Poseidon.”

Poseidon, at least, Stephen recognizes. Physically, Percy’s father looks the same as before, for some reason – even though his clothes have also regressed to what must’ve been his ancient looks. He smirks at his older brother. “We won’t keep you from your lovely family for long, Brother.” –he says, trying to placate the wrathful Lord of the Underworld. “But this is important.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with Lord Poseidon, rekindling our bonds with King Odin and his kin upon Asgard is paramount among our short-term priorities, Lord Hades.” –Athena grudgingly admits. Hades scoffs, sulking back into his throne. The virgin Goddess of Wisdom and War turns to Thor. “And I sense Lord Thor is eager to make amends for his unannounced visit and battle, earlier this year.”

Thor grins. “Indeed, Lady Athena. Though the mortals bid us worship once, Asgard recognizes Olympus’ sovereignty upon Midgard. King Odin sends his regards – and his firstborn, to aid in the protection of your world in whatever way you deem necessary.” –he says.

Zeus and Hades share a knowing look that has Strange wincing internally – they must know something about Thor that the Asgardian himself doesn’t. “There is no transgression to apologize for. And you’re allowed free transit in our domains, fellow Thunderer.” –Zeus declares, amiably enough. “Though grateful for the All-Father’s offer, we do not hold you to our service. You’ve decided to shoulder enoughresponsibilities to humanity already.”

“Your brother, I assume he is no longer a threat?” –Athena asks, narrowing her stormy grey eyes.

Thor’s smile falters. “No, he isn’t. I come fresh off his sentencing – he will live out his many, many days in our dungeons. This, I feel, does require an apology.”

“Family is a difficult matter at the best of times, Thor.” –Lady Demeter says, glaring coldly at the King of Olympus. “You have our condolences for Loki’s turn to madness.”

“Thank you, Lady Demeter.” –Thor bows. Stephen worries, despite himself, at the hint of pain in his voice.

“Madness or not, I envied your ability to challenge it alongside the mortal champions, unbound by our ancient laws as you are. Will you go join them now, in the bloodshed about to unfurl?” –Ares wonders, blood-red irises keen to see the Asgardian in action.

Thor nods curtly, his jaw set. “Indeed, Lord Ares. I do not mean to cut our meeting short, but I must aid my brothers and sisters in battle.”

“Oh, how boring.” –Aphrodite laments. Hers is the most eye-turning makeover of all – if only because she’s fully nude, pink-skinned as the day she rose from Ouranos’...remains. Only her flowing, rosy Godiva hair allows her any modesty – and even then, it’s tremendously inconsistent. Intentionally, Strange must assume. “It’s all doing battle with you warrior types. Here I thought you’d come back to see that pretty little mortal you fancied.”

Thor clears his throat. “That, uh...that is a bonus, yes.” –he admits. “But protecting the world takes priority.”

Zeus nods, approvingly – a little bit hypocritically, Strange feels, considering how hands-off the Olympians can be. “So it does, Odinson. Go with our blessing – and do join us for a spot of Nectar and Ambrosia soon. We have a few thousand years of history to catch up on, after all.”

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - percy meets a real life pirate

Hi! I'm just gonna let you guys know now that I don't really have an updating schedule thus far. The only thing I'm doing it making sure that I get a chapter out at least every 2 days.

I hope you guys are enjoying this so far, and please don't hesitate to correct me if I make any technical mistakes. Sometimes my beta and I will both miss something.

This would not have been possible without my amazing beta reader, nightskywithrainbows, so tysm you are a lifesaver. You keep this story from being absolute shit.

As a reminder, this story is also on FF, Ao3, Inkitt, Webnovel, and Wattpad. If you prefer those places, just go check out the story on there. Now, on with the good stuff! Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

Ω ♆ Ω

The first thing Percy felt was aching and stinging pain coming from his side. He groaned and tried to sit up, but found that he was tied down to a gurney with leather straps. So they think I'm a psycho. Nice to know, Percy's ADHD brain thought.

The bright lights caused his vision to swim for a second before they could focus and perform a quick surveillance of the room that revealed to Percy that he was in some sort of metal box. The walls had hexagons on them and there was a metal table with two metal chairs in the middle of the room. Basically, everything was metal.

In the corner, there was a camera with a blinking red light, so Percy knew that he was being watched. That meant he couldn't try an Iris Message unless he wanted some interesting questions from his captors that he didn't have answers to. He wasn't an idiot.

Speaking of his captors, nobody had come in yet, but they clearly knew he was awake. That meant that they were trying to scare him. Little did they know, it would take a lot more than isolation to scare him. Specifically, something less mortal.

Deciding that it would be best to try to calm himself, Percy willed his muscles to relax and closed his eyes. On the outside, it seemed like he was sleeping, but on the inside, his mind was flitting from topic to topic faster than light. It went from freaking out, to figuring out how to escape, to Annabeth, to his mom, to sleep, and back to freaking out. It was an endless cycle.

"You aren't that good of an actor, you know," a voice shocked him out of his thoughts, causing him to attempt to jump up again.

The attempt resulted in his wrists undoubtedly getting bruised, and his side to feel like he just got kicked in the ribs. Remembering that, apparently, Hill shot him, he started to freak out again. When he looked down, he could barely see the blue liquid dried on his side. So they had poisoned him then?

"You poisoned me?!" he exclaimed, finally meeting the eyes of the voice.

It was a middle-aged man with a starting of a receding hairline, with smile lines around his eyes. He was wearing a simple suit with an outline of a gun sticking out on the side, so he was another agent, but he kind of reminded Percy of Paul with how he presented himself.

The man gave him a small smile, "Agent Hill only used a tranquilizer. My name is Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcements and Logistics Division, or SHIELD."

Percy raised his eyebrows, "That's quite the name, and I thought you were the FBI. Also, would you mind telling me why I'm strapped down? I haven't done anything."

Percy thought that the best course of action was to stick with the innocent story, considering that it was partially true anyway.

"Well, I don't think that's completely true, Mr. Jackson. You assaulted our agent. We have every right to prepare for any other outbursts from you," Coulson said.

"She wanted to arrest me for no reason. I don't know what you guys want from me, but I can't help you. I'm a completely normal guy," Percy insisted, hand slowly sliding down until it rested against his pocket. He let out an involuntary sigh when he felt Riptide.

Coulson kept a cool face as he responded smoothly, "A completely normal guy wouldn't say he was completely normal."

Schist, Percy swore in his head. If Annabeth was there, they would've been free already. But with his luck, he would end up in some world-ending crisis again.

But then he heard a voice in his head. Not the kind of voice crazy people hear, but it was his father's voice, speaking to him like it used to during times of trouble. If this was serious enough to gain Poseidon's attention, then it was an issue Percy should be worrying about more. A demigod's life is never at peace...

"Stay silent, Percy. These are the ones working with the Avengers and the Norse god, Thor. They have not proven their trustworthiness yet. You were sent here to learn more about them. I'm sorry, Percy," his father said, voice somber and apologetic.

Percy gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to call the Fates a lot of colorful names. But that would just provoke them, so he stayed silent. He moved his gaze from Agent Coulson to the ceiling, trying to ignore the world around him. Unfortunately, that's impossible for someone whose mind is constantly alert to his surroundings.

Coulson sighed and tapped something on a tablet that Percy hadn't noticed, "Would you mind explaining this video?"

Percy tried to not look, but it was so tempting! So, he glanced over and saw himself, in his swim trunks, holding his hands out while thousands of gallons of water rose up out of the East River. Percy's eyes widened unconsciously in panic. He hadn't known there were cameras there, let alone that the Mist hadn't covered it up. Wait! The Mist.

"What do you see?" He asked, letting his head face Coulson again in question.

Coulon made a face that said he had just had a question answered for him. What that question was, worried Percy.

"I see a man, who looks a lot like you by the way, with extraordinary powers saving a lot of people. I just want to know if that man was you, and why we at SHIELD didn't know about your abilities," Coulson answered, staring Percy down.

The stare was like one you'd get from a teacher who had just asked you why you never turned in an assignment. It made Percy feel like he couldn't look away, but it almost hurt to keep looking.

But his father's voice rang in his head, reminding him to not reveal anything important, so he stayed silent.

Coulson sighed and stood up, "Very well, then. Let us know when you want to talk."

And then he left through a door in the wall that disappeared as soon as he was gone. Percy was seriously considering just using Riptide to slice his way out of there, but then he felt an unwanted feeling in his chest: Fear. They were in the air. How he had not realized earlier, Percy didn't know, but that wasn't his first priority in that moment. He was focused on getting OUT of the air and ON the ground, where he had no chance of getting electrocuted by his diva uncle.

The sky rumbled in the distance, but Percy ignored it. He had grown used to that happening whenever he thought ill of the gods, and it had stopped having an effect on him long ago.

He sent a silent prayer to his dad asking what to do. Annabeth's plans had never covered what to do when taken by a secret spy organization! He was clueless in this situation, as per usual.

All the answer he got was a gentle sea breeze blowing through the room. That's it. It was comforting, but not exactly clear on what the answer was. But that's how the gods do everything, anyway.

"Tell them you were born with the powers. You don't know where they came from, and you only wanted to help. You don't know anyone else who has them. Earn their trust, and figure it out from there. I trust you, son. Be careful," His father's voice flew through his mind.

Well, guess that answers that, Percy thought.

With yet another sigh, Percy called out to nobody, assuming they would hear him through some hidden microphone, "I'm ready to talk!"

Not a minute later, there was a click as the hidden door opened once again, letting in an asian woman in a skintight suit. She looked like the stereotypical spy, that's for sure.

She came over to him without a word and released his hands first, cuffing them with the same glowing handcuffs, before letting his legs free, too. She was clearly waiting for him to bolt, so Percy tried his best to make his body relax. If they were to trust him, he needed to cooperate fully.

The woman kept a permanent scowl on her face the entire time they were together. She was a little violent, too. She was practically shoving him the entire short walk. When they reached their destination, they were in a room with a huge screen table and three tvs on the wall. It was a whole lot of technology, and it made Percy on edge. Demigods and tech within two feet of each other are a big no-no.

The woman took his hesitation as a sign of escape and jabbed him in the small of his back, making his chest push forward immediately. Even though he had lost the Curse of Achilles, that one point on his body was still really sensitive. He turned his head around and shot a glare at the small lady on instinct. He tried to hold it back, but she had just poked his weakest point, what else could he have done?

"Move it," she growled out, meeting his glare with one of her own.

It didn't faze him, though. Lupa's was much scarier.

He sighed (he seriously needed to get a handle on the sighing), and sluggishly moved forward into the room. He just kept telling himself that the faster he got through this, the faster he got to see Annabeth again.

When he looked around the small glass room, he saw Agent Coulson, along with four others. Another, younger asian-looking woman (but she was in normal clothes), a tall brooding man in the corner dressed like an agent, a ginger-haired woman, and a nervous, curly-haired man. His eyes immediately drew to all the possible escape routes and any of the weapons, or things that could be used as weapons, in the room. The brooding man seemed to notice because he stood up tall and took a threatening step forward.

Percy ignored him, though, and looked straight at Coulson when he asked, "Why are they here? Tell them to leave."

"You don't give the orders here," Brooding man said before Coulson could speak.

Percy finally turned to the other Agent with a smirk, "And you don't either. And I don't remember asking you."

It's not like he TRIED to get in trouble with authority! It's more like authority seeks out trouble from him. This moment was an example (not that Percy would call the brooding man authority).

The brooding man took a couple more steps towards Percy, until he was right in front of him. He looked like he was used to towering over others, but Percy wasn't short or weak. He could confidently say that he could beat the man in front of him, so he kept his troublemaker smirk and stared the agent down.

"Watch it, Jackson. I'm not the one in handcuffs here," brooding man said before going back to his corner after a pointed look from Coulson.

"Are you sure about that?" Percy rebutted, holding his very uncuffed hands up in the air.

He couldn't help it, truly. It just slipped out! He had been unconsciously working on getting his cuffs off the entire time, and he had just broken free when the perfect opportunity came up.

Everyone in the room immediately either jumped forward to push him down or pulled out some sort of weapon. Except Coulson, that is.

"Stand down, guys. He's not gonna do anything. Isn't that right, Mr. Jackson?" he said.

Percy rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Of course not. If I wanted to get out of here, I would've a long time ago."

Turns out that wasn't the right answer because the first asian woman shoved him into the screen table, making him almost fall over. He held onto it for support, apparently touching something because a file with his face on it popped up. Percy immediately jumped back on instinct, fearing a monster would pop up out of the shadows. Except, the picture was from his junior yearbook photo...

"Why'd you guys have to use that picture? I look constipated!" he whined, scrunching up his nose in uncomfort.

The younger asian woman snorted, but tried to cover it up after her team glared at her. Clearly, she was the only one on the aircraft capable of feeling, Percy decided.

"We aren't here to discuss embarrassing yearbook photos, Perseus. We are here to talk about your abilities," The first asian woman stated.

"It's Percy," he corrected on instinct, and the woman glared at him even harder.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Coulson cut in again, "Could you please tell us what you wanted to tell us from before?"

"Yes. What do you want to know?" Percy said, putting his hands into his pockets and playing around with Riptide.

"Where do your abilities come from? How long have you had them?" The ginger asked.

Good, Percy thought with a smile, I know how to answer these ones.

"I was born with them, so I don't know where they come from." he stated simply, shrugging.

The ginger looked a little bit disappointed by that answer, but it didn't stop her from interrogating him more, "What are your limits? How have you kept your powers hidden for so long? Can I have a urine sample?"

Percy had decided that she was a scientist. With the way that everyone else was letting her ask all the questions, they probably thought she was the most capable. And plus, she was getting WAY too excited about pee.

"I don't know, I haven't really been hiding, and NO!!" he answered, giving the woman a look of disgust.

Now that he thought about it, it probably wouldn't be good if they got ANY DNA from him. He had never been told what it looks like with half of him made from the gods.

The ginger looked like she was going to ask more questions, but the curly-haired man rested a hand on her shoulder, seemingly calming her. Percy noted that the two were close.

"Any other questions?" he asked calmly, looking around.

Just as the brooding man looked like he was going to speak, the younger asian woman broke in, "Your powers are awesome! How much practice have you had with them? I would really love to see what else you could do with them!"

Ok, so the girl was probably a hero groupie. She didn't look like an agent, so that left the question of why she was on the plane with the rest of them.

Speaking of the plane, "Why are we flying? Can we finish this up on the ground PLEASE?"

Percy was already pushing his luck by being there for that long, let alone staying on here willingly.

The brooding man spoke, "How do you know we were flying? And unless you want to jump, no."

The brooding man was getting way too much joy out of Percy's fear. Like, phobias are real people!

"Ward, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to let Mr. Jackson have a go at you," Coulson said calmly, "Now, I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jackson, if you're willing to listen."

Percy figured that it couldn't hurt, so he gave the man a small nod. He was really trying to think before acting because he had a bad feeling that the conversation would change the course of his life for the better, or for the worse.

The other people in the room didn't seem to have prior knowledge of what Coulson was talking about, and that just made Percy more worried. What could possibly be important enough that Coulson hid it from his team (or that's what Percy thinks they are). His ADHD brain started to wonder where Hill went, but he quickly pushed that thought away. He needed to focus on the present!

"The Director would like you to join SHIELD. Officially, you would be a consultant. But unofficially, you would help us when we need your gifts." Coulson said, shocking literally everyone in the room.

Two beats of silence went before the team started into chaos:

"What?!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Why weren't we told about this?"

"Am I even considered a consultant?"

"I'm sorry?"

Before it could get too out of hand, Percy spoke up, which seemed to silence everyone else, "Are you out of your mind? I thought I was a criminal!"

He wasn't admitting to being a criminal, but that's how they had been treating him. He might as well address their behavior.

"We need the full story from you before we can move forward, but the Director was clear in his orders," Coulson said.

Percy considered what the best option was. There really wasn't one, but what else was he gonna do?

"I want to speak to the Director in person before I give my answer," Percy came to his conclusion.

If anyone was going to learn whatever story he came up with, it would be the top dog in SHIELD. Nobody else, even if he's not allowed to reveal the gods.

Coulson thought about it for a second before answering, "Ok. He's in the interrogation room right now."

Before he could hold it in, Percy full-out laughed. Of course a spy organization would anticipate what he would want. Why not?

The rest of the team didn't seem to know about their guest either, though. Wow, Percy thought, Somebody needs to work on keeping everyone in the loop.

Then, Percy just walked out. Nobody tried to stop him, which meant that everyone was waiting until he was gone to truly let it show their lack of trust in the team. It took awhile to get there, but when he reached his cell again, he noticed that the door was very obvious from the outside and that it really wasn't that big of a room. He was surprised that they would put the boss inside a place they kept criminals.

Before he had even finished closing the door, Percy heard a deep voice speak, "Welcome, Mr. Jackson. I thought you would want to speak with me directly. I'm Director Nick Fury of SHIELD."

Turning around, Percy came face to face with a spy pirate. No seriously, the guy was wearing a long, black coat with an eyepatch over his left eye. The guy also had dark skin with a bald head. It took all of Percy's willpower to not burst out laughing at the sight. Plus, the guy was called Fury!

"Yeah. I'm only willing to tell you some things," Percy said.

"Understandable. What is it you would like to tell me? And does this mean you are agreeing to my proposition?" Fury asked.

Just as Percy was about to deny everything, his father spoke to him again (that was happening a lot that day), "It's okay, Percy. You can trust him. He doesn't know it, but he is a legacy of Nike. Zeus agreed to it."

Percy gave the Director a once-over before deciding it was safe, "Yeah, I'm in. And I need you to swear on the Styx that what is said in this conversation doesn't leave this room. Ever."

He may have had permission, but Percy wasn't just going to expose his entire family without some security first! He wasn't a total Seaweed Brain, despite what some people thought.

"Yeah, sure whatever. I swear on the Styx that this conversation won't leave this room," the Director sighed, clearly not liking Percy's stalling.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Taking a deep breath and pushing past any natural instincts he had, Percy spoke something he never likes to say to a mortal, "I'm a demigod."

Ω ♆ Ω

My boyfriend is out of his mind! Annabeth screamed in her head.

She was currently walking up to the Big House after gathering all of the cabin counselors, praetors through IM, and the rest of the Seven. After Percy was taken, she had immediately left for camp. She had understood what Percy was trying to tell her before, and she was happy that he had actually thought a little about his actions before doing them. Given, they were stupid actions, but it was improvement.

Annabeth hadn't told anyone what was happening, just said that it was an emergency and that it involved Percy. That was all they needed to know it was important. Honestly, everyone had been anticipating Percy to mess up sooner than he had. They had made it an entire year before something big happened! Once again, improvement for the son of Poseidon.

As she walked into the rec room, she watched as everyone's eyes turned to her. At first, it was a little unsettling, but she steeled herself over before any signs of weakness shown through. She had to keep a strong front for her friends, especially since Percy was mis- no, taken, again. She refused to say Percy was missing. He promised he wouldn't leave her again, and she was holding him to that.

After she had taken a seat, Chiron spoke, "What happened, child?"

"Yeah! What's Prissy gotten himself into this time?" Clarisse grunted.

Annabeth ran a hand through her hair once, a habit she had picked up from Percy, before answering, "He's been taken by the FBI, or someone impersonating them. They seemed too skilled to be the FBI. He told me to get you guys for help."

"Of course he has," Nico muttered from his spot next to Will Solace, "Cuz why not?"

Annabeth gave him a small smile, "I have a plan. We're going to break him out from wherever he is. We'll figure out where he is by IMing him, and then we'll storm the place. I want our heaviest hitters making a distraction while Nico and I break him out. Got it everyone?"

She had said that all in one breath. She really didn't have time to go over it again, and her face must have betrayed that, so everyone just nodded along.

"We'll IM him and then see who we need to bring," she said, already pulling out a drachma and a rainbow maker, courtesy of Iris.

Making the rainbow, she said, "O Fleecy, do me a solid. Show me Percy Jackson, location unknown."

The mist shimmered before showing Percy in a metal box, talking to a dark-skinned man with an eyepatch. From the sound of it, they hadn't noticed her yet, so she cleared her throat. She didn't care if the eyepatch man saw her, she needed to see if Percy was okay.

Both men looked over at her and her relieved smile grew into a scowl when she saw that Percy looked completely at ease, "Perseus Jackson! Where are you, and why haven't you contacted me?!"

She distantly heard Leo mutter 'whipped' before Percy stammered over a response, "A-Annabeth! I-I'm fine! I was just going to call you, too!"

Her face was probably a tomato of fury, "Like Hades you were!"

"Can we please stop using my father's name as a curse?" Nico asked, but nobody paid any attention.

"I swear I was! I just finished making a deal!" Percy exclaimed.

"He was, whoever you are. I assume you are his girlfriend?" the eyepatch man said.

She rounded on him, but before she could start her yelling, Percy spoke up, "Wise Girl! I. AM. FINE. I just made a deal that will let me go. I will tell you about it when I see you again, but I can't do that if you're yelling at Fury!"

Percy's eyes widened at his ambitiousness, and he seemed to be about to take it all back, but Annabeth spoke first, "If you aren't at camp in an hour, I'm coming to find you."

And then she swiped a hand through the message before Percy could try to apologize. Gods, that boy is in a world trouble, Annabeth thought before storming out of the room and towards the Poseidon cabin without another word.

Ω ♆ Ω

Remember to like, comment, reblog, and follow me! Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

other chapters :)

[anachronisticcrab]

I know that my posts don’t usually get seen when they aren’t about Nico di Angelo or Percy Jackson in general, but I feel like this needs to be addressed. School is shitty in places outside the US

I live in Canada. I don’t have to worry about getting shot if I go to school, but it’s still shitty at my school (especially at my old school)

Quick tw for this entire thing. It deals with eating disorders, mental abuse, physical abuse, psychotic episodes, teachers not caring, mental illness, trauma, and suicide. Please tread carefully before you continue

I’ve been going to Catholic schools since I was 3. I went to a catholic elementary school in Ontario for about 10 years before going to my current Catholic high school

At my elementary school, when I was in fourth grade, one of the girls in my class was struggling with her mental health. Her dad had died a few years before then (by the way, our school NEVER gave her a safe space to discuss what was going on in her life) and she had been through some other shit

Now, in fourth grade, I didn’t know anyone in my class except for her (there were around 70 kids in my grade, I didn’t know a lot of people). So we hung out that year. Some days, she was in a great headspace and was happy and we got along great. She was funny, smart, nice, easy to talk to, and she was probably the first friend I had that I had anything in common with

But as I mentioned, she was seriously struggling. About once a week (at the minimum), she would have what I am going to refer to as an ‘episode’ because I really don’t know any other way to put it. She would scream, throw things, chase people around the class with scissors, and just overall torment me and my classmates. It got so bad that the entire class had to be brought into the hall for our own safety on more than one occasion

Our of everyone in the class, she harassed me the most. I’m not entirely sure why, but I’m guessing it had something to do with her own self-sabatoge since I was pretty much the only person there for her that entire year

One time she tried to cut my throat. Another time she threw a textbook at my head. She followed me around for almost six hours straight, calling me names and harassing me.

None of this was a secret from our teachers. They all knew about this. Our principals knew about this. Half the school knew about this. But none of the adults, who were responsible for keeping us safe, did anything.

They let it slide. They sent her to the office (the principals did nothing). They brought us out of the class, but didn’t ever do anything to help her to stop her episodes or to help her with any of her issues. In fact, just so they could all avoid doing their jobs, they hired college students to come in and talk to me and her at recess a couple days a week. I feel so bad for those girls since they were busy with school and exams, but they had to help out two extremely traumatized and extremely fucked up kids

One time this girl tried to kill me. And I mean this seriously— she came at me and tried to cut my throat with a pair of scissors. There were three eye witnesses (outside of myself and the girl). There was footage of it on the security cameras. And the girl started chasing people with scissors after I ran away from her. Our principals did nothing. Our teacher did nothing.

I asked my parents and teacher and principals to move me to the other class because I couldn’t be around that girl. She tormented me, and I was terrified to go to school because I didn’t know if it was going to be a good day or if she was going to attack me and scream at me. I was terrified of the building, and that year led to a lot of the issues with school and mental illness that I have to deal with now. They didn’t move me. They switched desks and put mine right next to hers. Like, the fuck was wrong with those asshats?

Also, me and this girl were walking around the halls during indoor recess one time and heard our teacher shit talking me, her, and this one other kid we were sort-of friends with. He called her psychotic, called me ‘at fault for (the girls) episodes and aiding (the girls) delusions’ and made fun of our other friend for having a high pitched voice. Like, we were nine? I wasn’t responsible for this girl trying to kill me and having episodes all the time. She wasn’t psychotic, she just had some issues she needed to work out, and she needed help with it from adults. And our friend was allowed to have a high pitched voice, he was nine! Don’t make fun of nine year olds who are clearly dealing with some shit!

We told the principal what happened, and the mother fucking teacher got a raise. We asked the principal why, and he said ‘well, he’s retiring this year, and it’s not fair that he has to deal with all of this’. It’s not fair that I had to deal with that, either! Let the crusty old dude get into shit for making fun of nine year olds!

At the end of the year, my teacher had the AUDACITY to send an email to my mom, to thank me for ‘sticking by that girl even when it was difficult, and for supporting her’. Like, bitch, you mean doing your job and putting my nine year old self at risk? Shut the fuck up and help your students when they’re going through shit!

Now, if you’re wondering why I hung out with this girl, there’s a couple reasons.

My teachers, principles, and parents told me that she needed me around, and that she’d been through shit. They told me that she really did care about me, and she needed a friend. That her dad had died so she was allowed to abuse me. More or less, all the adults in my life said that she was struggling, and that her happiness was more important than my safety

As I said before, when she was having a good day, I loved hanging out with her and talking to her. She was really nice, and the first semi-real friend I ever had

I got an eating disorder that year, that still affects my life 6 years later. I got anxiety and depression from that year (there are other causes of it, but it is a big part of the reason). I now have a crippling fear of school and other people, as well as extreme trust issues. I have serious self worth issues and let people push me around because that year I was taught that I could be beaten and bruised and murdered if it made other people happy. I have suicidal ideation and cut myself because of the trauma I endured that year.

The school system did nothing to help. They let that girl fester in her issues and take them out on others, permanently traumatizing and scarring me in the process

And I started talking to that girl again about three years ago, after she’d chilled out and I wasn’t terrified of her anymore. She told me she would have killed herself if it weren’t for me. That her mom was still mourning, the rest of her family hated her, that our teachers didn’t care, and that I was the only one actually there for her. I don’t regret being there for her at that time. She’s one of my best friends and I would hate if she had killed herself

But it’s shitty that the only person supporting her at the time was me. If she had have gone through with it, it would’ve been my fault. I was the only thing keeping her from dying. And that terrifies me. I can’t even be trusted to keep myself from dying at this point.

This is just one of many, many, many stories I have about how fucked up schools are, and not just in the US. I don’t have to worry about getting shot, but my old school is still fucked up, and my current school is a little fucked as well. Let me know if you want to hear any more stories from my experience at Catholic school, or with this girl, or whatever.