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𖤓 SATURN - request guidelines

STATUS - open

REQUEST GUIDELINES

Be descriptive! Bare minimum I need to know whether you’d like a female or gender-neutral reader and what plot details you’d like. The more descriptive you are the easier it is for me write what you want.

I write for characters that appear from books to movies to tv shows all with varying appearances and sometimes personalities. If the character you are requesting appears in multiple forms of media, please add which version you’d like me to write for or I’ll have to make that decision on my own and it may not be the one you wanted.

I want to make it known that I am neurodivergent and am currently working a full-time, manual labor job. It may take some time for me to complete your request. I’m also not obligated to fulfill any requests that I am uncomfortable or unable to write.

Last but not least, be kind when requesting from me. “Could I please get x, y, z?” and “I’d like x, y, z if you could. Thank you.” aren’t too much to ask for. Remember the nicer you are when requesting the more likely I am to want to write it for you!

I WILL NOT TAKE REQUESTS FOR

explicit NSFW content, discrimination such as homophobia, racism, xenophobia, etc, male reader, hurt/no comfort

YOU ARE FREE TO REQUEST ANYTHING NOT EXPLICITLY MENTIONED HERE, BUT THERE’S ALWAYS A POSSIBILITY I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT.

CHARACTER LIST

struck out means i am currently not writing for them

HARRY POTTER

james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, lily evans, poly!jily, poly!wolfstar, poly!marauders, fred weasley, george weasley, charlie weasley,

RIORDANVERSE

percy jackson, annabeth chase, luke castellan, clarisse la rue

GRISHAVERSE

kaz brekker, jesper fahey, nina zenik, mathias helvar, nikolai lantsov

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

rhaenyra targaryen, harwin strong, jacaerys velaryon, helaena targaryen

STRANGER THINGS

steve harrington, nancy wheeler, robin buckley, eddie munson

STAR WARS

din djarin, boba fett, poe dameron

HUNGER GAMES

finnick odair, clove kentwell, cato hadley, glimmer belcourt, marvel sanford, cashmere nicholo, gloss nicholo

I encourage anons to claim emojis so I can know a bit about who I’m interacting with even if you’d like to remain anonymous.

claimed emojis: currently none :)

PLEASE CHECK IN OCCASIONALLY BEFORE MAKING REQUESTS AS ANYTHING IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE!

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III. Son of the God of Toilets

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: Percy gets a tour of Camp Half-Blood, including a closeup of the girls’ bathroom.

WARNINGS: bullying, physical fighting

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They’d only made it a few steps away from the cabin before Annabeth spoke.

“Jackson, you have to do better than that.”

“What?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe I thought you were the one.”

Amara stood in between the two. “Annie, that’s not fair. Percy, you just need to—“

“What’s your problem?” Percy yelled, anger taking over. “All I know is, I kill some bull guy—“

“Don’t talk like that!” Annabeth interrupted him. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had your chance?”

“Hold on,” Amara said, trying to separate the two.

“To get killed?”

“To fight the Minotaur!”

“Okay!” Amara screamed. “Stop yelling at each other or I’m leaving.”

She didn’t necessarily have an issue with them yelling at each other, she just hated that she couldn’t seem to get a word in. At least now they could all be upset together.

Annabeth just crossed her arms. Amara pushed her fingers through her hair by her temples, covering her eyes with her palms before dragging her hands down her face. Percy stood there like a kid who’d just been scolded, arms hanging awkwardly by his side as he looked around.

Amara broke the silence.

“Look, most of us are here because at some point we were attacked by something. We didn’t all have to opportunity to kill our monsters so killing the Minotaur is like a dream come true to some of us,” Amara explained. “That’s why it’s important that you make a good impression, Percy. Everyone’s already got these high expectations of you because you killed the Minotaur.”

Percy shook his head. “If what I fought was the Minotaur, like the Minotaur, isn’t there only one?”

“Yes”

“And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the Labyrinth. So…”

“Monsters don’t die, Percy,” Annabeth said. “They can be killed. But they don’t die.”

“Oh, thanks. That clears it up.”

“They don’t have souls, not like we do,” Amara explained. “You can kill them, and they’ll stay dead for a while.”

“Maybe even a whole lifetime if you’re lucky,” Annabeth added.

“But monsters are primal forces. They take their time reforming, but once they do it’s like they never died in the first place.”

Percy thought about Mrs. Dodds. “So if I happened to kill one, accidentally, with a sword, it can come back?” he questioned.

“The Fur… I mean, your math teacher. That’s right. She’s still out there. You just made her very, very mad.”

“How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?”

“You talk in your sleep,” the two girls answered at the same time.

Percy didn’t love that. Hopefully, he didn’t say anything completely embarrassing. Heat crawled up his neck and flicked against the tips of his ears at the thought.

“You almost called her something. A Fury? They’re Hades’ torturers, right?”

Percy watched as the pair glanced around nervously, Annabeth staring at the ground like it would open up and swallow her while Amara scanned the sky as if something was going to swoop down and carry her away.

“You shouldn’t call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all.”

“You’re more than welcome to risk it though. I’m sure the Ares kids would love a good excuse for a fight,” Amara joked. Annabeth smacked her arm, the two girls now having an entire conversation through their eyes.

Are you serious?

Someone had to lighten the mood and I’m just pissed it was me.

He needs to learn or it’ll get him killed.

You also need to chill or he’s gonna get mad again and ignore you.

“Look,” Percy said, interrupting the bizarre silent film he was being subjected to. “Is there anything we can say without it thundering? And why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there.”

He pointed at Zeus and Hera’s cabins to prove his point. Annabeth looked like she was gonna be sick. It took everything Amara had in her not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“You don’t just chose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or parent.”

“My mom is Sally Jackson,” Percy said. Amara just closed her eyes and sighed quietly. All the humor from the situation was gone.

You adorable, clueless idiot, she thought. Wait, adorable?

“She works at the candy store in grand central station,” he continued. “Or at least, she used to.”

“I’m sorry about your mom, Percy. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your other parent. Your dad.”

“He’s dead. I never knew him.”

Annabeth sighed this time. Amara jumped in, hopefully preventing Annabeth from just strangling Percy.

“Your dad’s not dead. You wouldn’t be here if he was. You wouldn’t be here unless you were one of us.”

“You don’t know that,” Percy said, anger returning. “You don’t know anything about me.”

His outburst pushed the two over the edge. Maybe Amara would let Annabeth strangle him. Maybe it would kickstart something in his brain.

“No?” Annabeth started. “I bet you moved around from school to school a lot. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them.”

“You were probably diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD,” Amara continued, raising a finger on her hand for every point they made. “Letters float off the page when you read and what doesn’t float away is always shifting around. That’s because your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek.”

“And your ADHD. You’re impulsive, can’t sit still in the classroom. That’s your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they keep you alive. As for your attention issues, that’s because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal’s. That’s why teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don’t want you seeing them for what they are.”

Percy looked unnerved. Amara supposed she would be too if two borderline strangers just summed up her life. But they’d done this speech a hundred times. It was always the same story.

“You sound like you went through the same thing.”

“Most of the kids here did. If you weren’t like us, you wouldn’t have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar.”

“Ambrosia and nectar,” Percy stated, but it came out more like a question.

“The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would’ve killed a normal kid. It would have turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you’d be dead. Face it. You’re a half-blood.”

“It’s not all bad,” Amara said. “You get to stay here where it’s safe, year round if you want. Chiron’s a good teacher, a lot better than mortal ones, and since the lessons are in Greek it’s not as hard to understand. And you’ll make friends that you get to spend a ton of time with. And there’s amazing food and the campfire.”

Amara stopped when she realized Percy wasn’t really listening to her anymore.

Percy was stuck inside his own head, thoughts flying around faster than he could process them, until a shout snapped him out of it.

“Hey! A newbie!”

Clarisse La Rue and three of her sisters—Sloane, Megan, and Audrey—had pushed their way out of cabin five and were now marching directly toward them.

“Clarisse,” Annabeth seethed. It was probably an Ares’ kid trait, but nobody pissed people off quite like Clarisse did. “Why don’t you go polish your spear or something?”

“Sure, Miss Princess. So I can run you through with it Friday night.”

“Erre es korakas! You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll pulverize you,” Clarisse growled.

“Clarisse,” Amara snapped. “Camp is huge. Find anywhere else to be, please.”

“Nah, but good try, Sunshine.” Clarisse smiled when she saw Amara glaring at her. “Who’s this little runt?”

“Percy Jackson, meet Clarisse, daughter of Ares.”

Amara guessed they were skipping over the introductions for everyone else. Shame. She loved calling Audrey ‘Aubrey’ and watching her eye twitch when she corrected her.

“Like…the war god?”

Clarisse sneered. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” Percy responded, a sudden surge of confidence overtaking him. “It explains the bad smell.”

Amara couldn’t contain her laugh. She quickly pulled her lips between her teeth, biting down to silence herself, but the damage was done.

Clarisse growled. “We’ve got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy.”

“Percy.”

“Whatever. Come one, I’ll show you.”

“Clarisse—“ Annabeth tried to say.

“Stay out of it, wise girl.”

“Hey!” Amara started at Clarisse, but Annabeth grabbed her wrist before she got anywhere. She looked over at her and Annabeth just shook her head.

Not worth it.

She hated it when Annabeth was right. She didn’t actually hate it, Annabeth was right a lot of the time, it just sucked that there wasn’t anything they could do for Percy without getting caught in the crossfire.

Percy handed Amara his Minotaur horn and got ready to fight. Amara had never held a spoil of war before. She turned it over in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the tip of the horn. She should probably give it to Annabeth, not deeming herself responsible enough to hold onto someone’s only memento, but he gave it to her so she hardened her grip until her hand hurt. She wouldn’t lose it.

Percy lost the fight immediately, Clarisse putting him in a headlock and dragging him towards the girls’ bathroom. Percy was kicking and punching the entire time, but Clarisse never wavered. She made it into the bathroom with him in record time.

The girls’ bathroom wasn’t anything spectacular. There was a line of toilets down one side, a few shower stalls along the back, and a line of sinks up the other wall. The cabins all had their own bathrooms, so the communal ones weren’t used often. They were clean, Chiron made sure of that, but they certainly looked original to the camp.

Clarisse grabbed a handful of Percy’s hair and led him into one of the stalls, Percy too busy trying to avoid getting his hair ripped out to stop her. He wouldn’t have been successful anyways. Somehow fighting against Clarisse was worse than fighting against the Minotaur.

“Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse snickered. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Amara murmured under her breath. Annabeth smacked her arm to tell her to shut up when Clarisse’s sisters stopped laughing and turned back toward them.

Clarisse shoved Percy onto his knees and pushed his head toward to the toilet bowl. Percy fought against her the whole way. If his head was going to get dunked in toilet water, then he wasn’t going peacefully.

Percy was straining against Clarisse, completely refusing to accept his fate, when he felt something pull at the pit of his stomach.

The pipes began to rumble. Clarisse’s hand loosened in his hair as everything shuttered. Then a stream of water shot out of the toilet, completely missing Percy and hitting Clarisse straight in the face.

She fell, the force of the water knocking her off her feet and pushing her back against the sinks as her screamed. Her sisters came forward to help, but water began to spout from every fixture in the bathroom. Streams from the showers and sinks joined the toilets, targeting the four girls until they were washed away and out of the bathroom.

As soon as they were gone it’s like the plumbing realized it had gotten rid of the garbage and ceased fire, water settling back into the pipes where it belonged.

Unfortunately, Amara and Annabeth weren’t spared. The two were soaked, clothes dripping wet and Amara’s hair pulled nearly straight from the weight of the water. They stared at him in shock.

The entire bathroom was flooded. The only dry spot in the room was a circle around Percy. Even Percy was bone dry, not a drop of water on him or his clothes.

He slowly got to his feet, his legs shaky, and walked toward to two girls.

“How did you…”

“I don’t know,” Percy answered, looking back over the bathroom like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“All hail, Percy Jackson. Son of the god of toilets,” Amara quipped flatly, handing Percy back his Minotaur horn so she could wring out her hair. She grimaced as they walked through the door. The feeling of wet clothes rubbing against her skin was revolting.

Outside, Clarisse and her sisters were sprawled out on the grass recovering. By now other campers had gathered around, curious about the scene that they had caused.

If Annabeth and Amara looked bad, then Clarisse was ten times worse. Her hair was flattened across her face, clothes sopping and covered in mud where the sudden water flow had found bare patches of dirt. Fire burned in her eyes when she saw Percy. “You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead.”

Percy apparently liked to try his luck, words slipping past his lips before he could stop them. “You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth.”

She went to charge Percy, but her sisters held her back. They dragged her back to cabin five, other campers avoiding them as they went, before finally disappearing inside the gaudy red building.

Amara wasn’t sure if Percy had a lack of self preservation or just lacked a filter between his brain and his mouth, but she had to admit that it was nice to see Clarisse be knocked down a few pegs.

The two girls stared at him. Annabeth was all too good at hiding her emotions from him and Amara wasn’t far behind, her eyes only partially giving her away. He couldn’t tell whether they were grossed out, angry, or impressed.

“What?” He caved, itching to hear what they had to say. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”

Amara wouldn’t burst his bubble that he was already on Annabeth’s team, Annabeth all but securing Athena’s alliance with Hermes through Luke and Amara, and let Percy have his moment.

In fact, Amara refused to answer him at all, much to Percy’s disgust. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much what she thought of him, but he continued to pester her as Annabeth showed him more places around camp. They made it through the forge, the arts-and-crafts room, and the climbing wall before they stopped at the canoeing lake.

Between Percy staring at her anytime he wasn’t listening to Annabeth and her waterlogged clothes chafing her skin, Amara was more than ready to get back to cabin eleven.

“I’ve got training to do,” Annabeth said flatly. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the toilets.”

Amara appreciated the apology, running her fingers between the cut off bottoms of her shorts and her legs, unsticking the wet denim. Annabeth seemed far less accepting.

“Whatever.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Wrong answer. The look Annabeth shot him made it clear that it was, in fact, his fault.

“You need to go talk to the Oracle.”

“After getting approval from Chiron, that is,” Amara chipped in, now pulling her shirt away from her stomach, somehow more uncomfortable in her wet clothes standing still than she was walking around.

“Who?”

“Not who. What. The Oracle. I’ll just ask Chiron.”

Percy didn’t respond. He only had more questions and figured it was probably better to just keep quiet than ask more stupid questions that he wouldn’t get clear answers to.

He stared down into the lake, not expecting two pairs of eyes to be staring back at him. Two teenage girls were sitting at the bottom of the pier wearing jeans and t-shirts, their hair floating up around them as minnows darted about. They smiled up at him and waved. Not knowing what else to do, Percy waved back.

“Don’t encourage them,” Annabeth warned. “Naiads are terrible flirts.”

Amara rolled her eyes. The naiads might be terrible flirts, but they were pretty and they were always nice to Amara.

“Naiads,” Perry repeated, looking back at the underwater girls like he’d finally lost his mind. “That’s it. I want to go home now.”

Amara felt bad for him. After everything—the Minotaur, the bathroom, seeing Chiron—it was naiads that made him think he’d gone crazy.

“You are home, Percy. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us.”

“You mean, mentally disturbed kids?” Percy blurted, turning away from the water.

“She means for half-bloods, demigods, whatever you wanna call us. The not-mortals, not completely at least,” Amara said.

“Not completely. So we’re supposed to be what? Half-god?” Percy responded. He knew that was true. He wasn’t too sure about a lot of things, but he did know that demigods were half god, half human. He just couldn’t admit that it might be true about himself.

Annabeth nodded. “Your father isn’t dead, Percy. He’s an Olympian.”

“That’s…crazy.”

“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?”

“But those are just—“ Percy paused. He supposed he’d seen a lot of myths over the last few days. So he was either dreaming, crazy, or they were really telling the truth. “So if all the kids here are half-gods—“

“Demigods,”Annabeth corrected. “That’s the official term. That or half-bloods.”

“I still prefer not-mortal. Has a specific air of uncertainty that calls to me,” Amara chimed in. She knew her quips weren’t exactly well timed, but she couldn’t stand the overbearing tension.

“Then who’s your dad?” Percy asked, finishing his thought from before Annabeth interrupted him.

He immediately regretted asking. Annabeth’s hands tightened around the pier railing and Amara just looked at the ground, any amusement she previously had wiped from her features.

“My dad is a professor at West Point. I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“He’s human.”

“What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?”

Percy decided to ignore her outburst before he dug himself an even deeper hole. He looked to Amara. “What about you?”

"My dad’s a curator. He works with Greek and Roman artifacts. He kinda bounces around but last time I saw him he was working at the Parthenon in Nashville.”

“So who’s your mom, then?”

If Percy thought the hole he dug with Annabeth was deep, then he hit the underworld with Amara. She just looked up at him, her smile sad as she shrugged her shoulders.

“The million dollar question. Undetermined,” she stated.

“Cabin six,” Annabeth answered, directing Percy’s attention to her and away from Amara.

“Meaning?”

“Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

“And my dad?”

“Undetermined,” Amara said. “Just like me. Nobody knows.”

“Except my mother. She knew.”

“Maybe not, Percy. Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

“My dad would of. He loved her.”

The two girls shared a look, Annabeth trying her best not to harm Percy’s perception of his parents. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll send a sign. That’s the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t,” Amara cautioned, bitterness coating her tongue.

“What do you mean sometimes it doesn't?”

“The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don’t always…” Annabeth ran her palm along the rail, trying to find the right words.

“They don’t always care about us,” Amara finished. “They ignore us.”

Percy observed Amara. All the times he’d seen her so far she’d been pretty bubbly and positive. She took care of him, smiled at him, cracked jokes.

Now she looked absolutely dreadful, arms crossed over her chest, eyes a mixture of resentment and dejection. She looked like a crumbling shell of the lively girl he was becoming accustomed to.

He thought back to the situation he was in. “So I’m just stuck here. That’s it? For the rest of my life?”

“It depends,” Annabeth said. “Some campers only stay the summer. If you’re a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you’re probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it’s too dangerous to leave. We’re year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they’ll ignore us until we’re old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. “

“So monsters can’t get in here?”

“Not unless they’re intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside.”

“Why would anybody want to summon a monster?”

“Practice fights.”

“Practical jokes,” Amara chimed in.

“Practical jokes?”

“The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm.”

Percy paused, processing all the information that’s been thrown at him in the last few minutes.

“So…you’re both year-rounders?”

The two girls nodded, Annabeth pulling her leather necklace out from under the collar of her shirt. Amara’s already laid on top of her shirt, three colorful clay beads on display compared to Annabeth’s five. Annabeth’s also held a gold class ring in the center of her necklace.

“I’ve been here since I was seven. Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I’ve been here longer than most of the councilors, and they’re all in college.”

“Why did you come so young?”

“None of your business.”

Percy just sighed, standing there uncomfortably as silence fell over the group. If they got a bead for every year, then Amara had been there three years, since she was nine presumably. Percy was glad he got the extra few years with his mom, even if he had to suffer through smelly Gabe to have them.

“So…I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?”

“It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D’s or Chiron’s permission. But they wouldn’t give permission until the end of the summer session unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you were granted a quest. But that’s rare and it’s been years since the last one,” Amara said.

“Back in the sick room, you asked me something about the summer solstice.”

“So you do know something,” Annabeth said accusingly.

“Well…no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn’t have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?”

“I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won’t tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time we were there, everything seemed so normal.”

“You’ve been to Olympus?”

Amara nodded. “There was a field trip during the winter solstice. That’s when the gods have their big annual council. Some of the year-rounders got to go—Annabeth, me, Luke, Clarisse and a few others.”

“But…how do you get there?”

“The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the sixth hundred floor. You are a New Yorker, right?”

“Oh, sure,” Percy responded, like there was definitely six hundred floors and not only a hundred and two.

Amara didn’t have much to contribute. She knew Empire State Building and floor six hundred, but the rest might as well have been gibberish instead of instructions. She was not a New Yorker.

“Right after we visited, the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I’ve overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn’t returned by summer solstice, there’s going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping…I mean—Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she’s got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something.”

Amara kept her suspicions about Percy’s father to herself for the sake of Annabeth. There was no god of toilets, at least not one she was familiar with. The only god she could think of that would give Percy the ability manipulate the water in the bathrooms would be the god of the sea, Poseidon, and that would be the last thing Annabeth would want to be true. She had a feeling the girl was already jumping through hoops in her mind to deny any possibility that Percy could be a son of Poseidon.

Perry just shook his head, confirming that he didn’t know anything more about the solstice or what the gods could be fighting about.

“I’ve got to get a quest,” Annabeth mumbled to herself. “I’m not too young. If they would just tell me the problem…”

“Then we could go fix it,” Amara smiled at the girl. “Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno.”

Annabeth hated when Amara spoke in Latin, but at least this was a phrase she knew. It was something Amara’s dad used to say that she’d accidentally brought to camp with her, saying it to Annabeth and Luke often and almost always using it as the blue team’s motto in capture the flag.

Percy seemed to know it too. “One for all, all for one.” He flushed when both girls looked at him, scrambling to explain himself. “What? Chiron was my Latin teacher.”

Amara just giggled as Annabeth shook her head.

The smell of barbecue was now wafting through the air, mixing with the weaker scent of fresh bread and fruit. Percy’s stomach growled loudly.

“Come on.” Amara gestured at Percy to follow her. “I wanna change before dinner. I’ll see you at the campfire, Annie!”

“See you at the campfire, Mae,” Annabeth mumbled distractedly, tracing her finger over the rail of the pier as she looked out at the lake.

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II. Welcome to Cabin Chaos

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: Percy fades in and out of consciousness. Amara and Annabeth begin his introduction to Camp Half-Blood.

WARNINGS: none

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The last thing Percy remembered was collapsing on a wooden porch, a ceiling fan circling above him with a dull hum from the yellowed light, and the faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and two pretty girls with dark hair, one with braids and the other with loose curls.

The two girls spoke nearly at the same time, the one with curls barely beating the other.

“The boy.”

“He’s the one. He must be.”

“Silence, Annabeth,” the man shushed one of them. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”

He must have passed out then because the next thing he remembered was laying in a soft bed with the same girls from outside hovering over him. They were whispering loudly as one spoon-fed him something that looked like pudding and tasted like buttered popcorn.

“Go back outside. I swear to the gods, if you—oh.” The one with curly hair quickly pulled back the spoon and sat it in a bowl on the table beside him when she noticed his eyes were open.

Percy didn’t have time to say anything before the other girl pushed herself almost completely in front of him.

“What will happen at the summer solstice?”

“Stop it!” The first girl yelled, ducking her head and quickly looking around as if she was making sure no one heard her. “Let him sleep.”

All Percy managed to get out was a weak, “What?”

“What’s going on? What was stolen?,” The girl continued, now fighting to stay leaned over him as the other tried to push her off the edge of the bed. “ We’ve only got a few weeks!”

The curly haired girl finally shoved her off the bed, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the room. She came back in mumbling something about manners under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Percy croaked. He didn’t know exactly why he was apologizing. “I don’t know—“

“You’re fine,” she shushed him. “Go back to sleep.”

The next time he woke up he was greeted by the sight of a husky blond man, standing in the corner watching over him. He looked completely normal, like a surfer, if Percy ignored the dozens of blue eyes that covered his face and hands.

When he finally came around, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He was lounging on a deck chair, pillow behind his head and a blanket thrown over his legs, on a porch that overlooked a meadow. Further away there were strawberry fields that went on for ages bordered by a winding stream with a grove of trees behind it.

He thought that maybe everything had just been a weird nightmare, his mom was really fine and this was just somewhere they’d stopped on vacation, until he saw the girl sitting next to him.

It was the same one that fed him the pudding. She was hunched over a book, flipping through it furiously as she wrote on sticky notes and stuck them to different pages.

Percy watched her for a few minutes, her eyebrows scrunched together as she’d turn back a page or two, check her notes, and then move on.

When he realized he was staring, he immediately looked away from her, heat rushing to his cheeks.

His eyes landed on a drink on the table next to him. It looked like iced tea or apple juice, with a green straw and a pink paper parasol sticking out of a maraschino cherry. Percy hadn’t realized how dry his mouth was until the option of soothing it was in front of him.

It was his hand moving for the drink that finally caught her attention. She practically jumped out of the chair, haphazardly setting the book in her seat.

“You’re awake!” She grinned. “I’ll go get Grover.”

She was gone before he had a chance to stop her, disappearing around the side of the farmhouse.

Amara found Grover on the corner of the front porch with Annabeth, Chiron, and Mr. D. Grover was pacing anxiously around Annabeth chewing on an aluminum can as she leaned again the porch rail. Chiron and Mr. D were sitting around the table, setting up cards for pinochle.

She told them that Percy was finally awake, Grover consuming the last of his can before he grabbed a shoebox off one of the chairs and left to go talk to him. They decided that once he fully regained consciousness that it would probably be best for Grover to ease him into camp. After all, he was Percy’s best friend.

Amara relaxed next to Annabeth against the porch rail. They’d taken turns the last two days watching over Percy so they hadn’t had much time to spend with each other.

While Amara sat with Percy, Annabeth had went out and helped pick strawberries that morning, the scent of the fruit stuck to her skin. Amara thought the smell was intoxicating.

“How is he?” Annabeth asked.

“I’m not sure,” Amara admitted sheepishly, just now realizing that she practically ran away from the boy to get Grover the second he was conscious. “He seems fine. He wasn’t like crying or anything so that’s a good sign.”

Annabeth pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes going to the ceiling as she tried not to laugh. Amara had cried when she first came to camp, the nine year old upset that she had to leave her dad for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t funny, a child crying for their father, but Amara using herself as a metric for a bad first day at camp was hilarious.

“Does he still have droll rolling down his chin?”

“Of course.”

Amara’s laugh sent Annabeth over the edge, the two girls giggling as Chiron sent them a sharp look.

The two finally straightened up when they saw Grover and Percy making their way around the porch. Percy looked unsteady, his knuckles white as he gripped the Minotaur horn too tight. In his other hand, Amara recognized the Greek sculpture book she’d left behind.

Her face felt like it was on fire.

Percy was looking over the camp, taking in everything he could see before he noticed the four of them at the end of the porch. Amara heard Grover trying to whisper to Percy who everyone was.

“That’s Mr. D. He’s the camp director. Be polite. The girl on the left, that’s Annabeth Chase. She’s just a camper, but she’s been here longer than just about anybody. That’s Amara Bishop next to her. Also just a camper. She’s undetermined so I’m sure you’ll see her a lot. Probably see Annabeth a lot too since they’re practically inseparable. And you already know about Chiron…”

“Mr. Brunner!” Percy cried out.

Somehow Amara hadn't thought about the fact that Percy knew Chiron, their activities director pretending to be Percy’s teacher for the better half of the school year.

“Ah, good, Percy,” he elated, offering him the chair to his left. “Now we have four for pinochle.”

Amara despised pinochle. She loved card games, but there was something about playing with Chiron and Mr. D that took all the fun out of it. Probably the hundreds of years of practice if she had to guess. Annabeth didn’t like playing with them either, but that was just because she had an aggressive need to always win.

Mr. D gave his predictably lackluster introduction to camp, Percy slowly moving his chair closer to Chiron when he finished.

“Annabeth? Amara?” Chiron called to the two girls. They came forward, filling in the empty space around the table across from Percy.

Chiron continued, officially introducing them. “These young ladies nursed you back to health, Percy. Amara, see if you can gather up some supplies for him. And Annabeth, why don’t you go check on Percy’s bunk? We’ll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.”

“Sure, Chiron,” Annabeth said, Amara nodding her head in agreement.

Percy just glanced back and forth between the two girls. They both looked to be his age. Amara stood a bit taller than Annabeth, but Annabeth appeared more athletic, a whole lot more than he did. Amara looked more carefree, with deep tan skin covered in freckles and frizzy, curly brown hair, while Annabeth looked more serious, with warm brown skin and dark hair done in braids that were pulled back into a ponytail, but some of their perceived personalities could be attributed to their eyes.

While both had startling gray eyes, Amara’s were softer, almost like she was admiring him, while Annabeth’s seemed to be analyzing the best way to destroy him in a fight.

“You drool when you sleep,” Annabeth said abruptly, Amara staring down her friend in disbelief as she left across the lawn towards the cabins. She huffed, going to chase after her.

“Oh, Amara,” Percy called out. She turned back toward him to see him holding out her book. “You left it on the chair. Figured you might want it back.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed it from him, cheeks turning pink, and quickly resumed her chase after Annabeth.

Chiron had asked that they gather up Percy supplies and make sure his bunk was situated, but they had spent the last two days making sure everything was ready to go when he woke up.

Percy’s bunk, or rather sleeping bag, was laying on the ground between Amara and Chris, another unclaimed, since it was one of the few empty spaces of floor left in cabin eleven. Plus it meant that Amara could keep her eyes on him and report back to Annabeth on whether he had potential to be a child of one of the big three.

They’d gotten him a duffle bag stuffed with a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. Amara had also thrown in an orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD hoodie since she liked hers so much.

It was more than they’d done in the past for newcomers, but since Annabeth had a feeling and Amara was pretty sure after the dream she had that Percy was the one, they tried a little harder.

She found Annabeth sitting on the steps in front of cabin eleven. She had her elbows resting on her knees, her face in her hands as she stared absentmindedly.

“I see you got your book back,” Annabeth commented. “Did you turn into a tomato again when he gave it to you?”

Amara narrowed her eyes at her, stopping a few paces from the girl.

“Oh, what’s that? Hi Luke!” Amara looked behind Annabeth at the closed door, waving at no one.

The girl whipped her head around, hand going to one of her loose braids. When she realized Luke wasn’t there, she turned back around, glaring at Amara.

“You are evil. Child of Hades,” Annabeth spouted. “Maybe you’re the one the prophecy spoke about and we just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Gods, I hope not. I don’t want a prophecy weighing on my shoulders,” Amara laughed.

She sat on the steps next to Annabeth, opening her book and searching for the page she left off on. She no longer had her pen and sticky notes, the stationary probably still laying in the chair she was hunched over in, but she could still get Annabeth’s thoughts on what she’d covered so far.

Amara was ranting about the Colossus of Rhodes when Chiron and Percy finally made it to the cabins. Percy only caught the tail end of it, Amara explaining something about reinforcements and the longevity of world wonders.

Percy wasn’t expecting Annabeth’s eyes to snap to him, looking over him critically like she was still examining all his flaws. Amara just smiled again, giving him and Chiron a hello as she closed her book.

“Annabeth. Amara,” Chiron said, “I have masters’ archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?”

“Yes, sir,” the girls responded, standing from the steps.

“Cabin eleven. Make yourself at home.”

Chiron gestured to the doors, Amara and Annabeth each grabbing one of the handles and swinging them open. The noise from the inside of cabin eleven was now bleeding out into the courtyard.

People filled the cabin, both boys and girl, taking up most of the floor space. There were sleeping bags and bunks everywhere. What probably started as a well organized cabin had fallen into chaos.

In the center of the right wall, there were three bunks pushed snuggly against one another, a giant patchwork quilt thrown over the top, making a fort out of the bottom. A lantern hung from the middle of the center bunk, lighting it just enough for the kids piled inside to play cards.

In one of the back corners there was a nest of sleeping bags, campers lounging on them while they talked. A boy with brown hair was hanging upside down from one of the ceiling beams, carrying on a conversation with two others who were standing in front of him.

Everywhere Percy looked there seemed to be something going on. The commotion paused momentarily when the campers noticed Chiron. Everyone stood and bowed excluding the boy hanging from the ceiling who gave a salute. Kids were still pouring from the fort to acknowledge Chiron when he turned toward Percy.

“Well, then,” Chiron remarked. “Good luck, Percy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

With that, Chiron galloped off toward the archery range.

Annabeth only gave Percy a few seconds to stand in the doorway looking lost before she checked him with her shoulder. The blond just gave her a look that screamed what?

“Well?” Annabeth promoted. “Go on.”

He tripped the moment he moved, Amara’s hand immediately scrunching the back of his shirt just in case he actually fell.

Gods, this boy is a walking train wreck.

She let him go once he regained his footing, not wanting to make the snickering from the campers any worse. Annabeth glanced over at Amara, tilting her head to the crowd.

Amara sighed. “Percy Jackson, welcome to cabin eleven.”

“Regular or undetermined?” Someone from the back asked.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth responded.

Everyone groaned. Amara wouldn’t say she was exactly thrilled about having to share her space with yet another person, but some of them acted like it was the end of the world when undetermined newbies arrived. Half of the campers in cabin eleven were still undetermined, so they had no room to talk.

Finally, one of the older campers managed to push his way to the front of the cabin. He was dressed in regular camp attire, orange t-shirt and cutoffs with his leather necklace, and his caramel hair stuck up in a few spots, like he’d tried to fix it without a mirror.

“Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. Amara set you up a spot on the floor, right over there.”

Percy looked at the tiny section of floor that he’d been given between two bunks in the back corner. There was a sleeping bag splayed out as big as it would go and a large orange duffle bag sitting just under the pillow. It wasn’t much, but he guessed he couldn’t complain. It’s not like he had anything more than the Minotaur horn in his hand to his name.

“This is Luke,” Annabeth said, her voice pitching up. Amara nearly laughed when she noticed Annabeth’s hand twitching at her side, playing with the hem of her shirt so she didn’t reach for her hair. Amara bet if she felt Annabeth’s face she’d be on fire, her cheeks looking a little warmer than they normally did. “He’s your councilor for now.”

“For now?” Percy questioned.

“You’re undetermined,” Luke explained. “They don’t know what cabin to put you in, so you’re here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers.”

“And thieves, so mind your stuff,” Amara added, staring down the cabin in search of the Stoll brothers. In her first year here they hid her blue windbreaker that her dad gave her, one that he wore growing up, from her. The joke only lasted three days before Travis woke up to Amara sitting on top of him, razor in her hand as she threatened to shave off his eyebrows unless he gave back her jacket. He gave her back her jacket.

It was probably unfair to introduce the whole cabin as thieves, especially since it was normally just Connor and Travis playing pranks, but she wasn’t lying either. Don’t get her wrong, she loved spending time with the Stolls, but she still wasn’t completely over her jacket.

“And thieves,” Luke admitted.

“So how long will I be here?” Percy asked, looking around the cabin.

“Good question. Until you’re determined.”

“And how long will that take?”

The million dollar question, Amara thought bitterly as the rest of the campers laughed.

“Come on,” Annabeth said, grabbing Percy’s wrist and turning to the door. “We’ll show you the volleyball court.”

“I’ve already seen it.”

“Go,” Amara directed, following the pair outside. She turned back to scold the laughing campers of cabin eleven before she shut the door. “Be nice! Or so help me gods.”

She didn’t know what she’d do exactly or why she cared so much that they laughed at Percy. Maybe it was because she knew what it was like to be in his shoes. Maybe it was because she felt a weird need to defend him after her dream. Either way, she’d still went against her cabin so hopefully it was worth it and she didn’t end up with shaving cream under her blankets.

NEXT CHAPTER ➜

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I. The Disembodied Voice Knows Best

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: After spending the day with Annabeth, a weird dream sends Amara to the big house where she receives more than she bargained for.

WARNINGS: weapons, blood, verbal threat of death (gotta love siblings)

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Annabeth had been bothering Amara since she woke up. Apparently she overheard an Apollo kid mention something about a newcomer soon and now she was antsy with excitement that she’d finally get to go on a quest.

“I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Amara ducked as Annabeth swung her dagger at her head. She’d brought her out to the arena to train an hour ago, silently praying to Hypnos that it would tire Annabeth out and she would just decide to take a nap, but she’d had no such luck.

Amara rolled forward as Annabeth aimed at her head again, shoving her elbow into the back of Annabeth’s knee as she bounced back onto her feet. Annabeth stumbled, but she didn’t fall.

“You say that every time,” Amara huffed. She gave Annabeth time to turn back toward her before she continued. “You always get excited and then they’re not a child of the big three and then you spend a week moping about it.”

She lunged at Annabeth, narrowly missing the front of her chest plate as she threw herself back to avoid the hit. Annabeth swung down. Her blade smashed into Amara’s, sending a tingling feeling up her arm.

Desperately, Amara reached forward, grabbing Annabeth’s shoulder and locking her foot around her ankle before tripping her. She didn’t account for Annabeth grabbing her arm and not letting go, taking Amara down with her.

The pair landed with a thump. Amara grabbed Annabeth’s dagger at the same time she’d reached for Amara’s, each of them now holding the others weapon. Amara brought her new blade to Annabeth’s throat at the same time Annabeth got hers pointed to Amara’s ribs.

Amara grinned, climbing off Annabeth and holding her hand down to her. The girl took it and was pulled off the dusty ground.

The pair swapped back weapons with an unspoken agreement that they were done in the arena.

Amara helped Annabeth fix her braids neatly back into the low ponytail she’d had before they started sparring, two pieces left out to frame her face. Annabeth always went to fix her hair every time they ran into Luke, so it was now a part of girl code that one wasn’t allowed to let the other walk around looking like a disaster.

Annabeth thanked her, her eyes drawn toward Amara’s hairline.

“Your face is bleeding.”

Amara’s left hand went to her forehead where she assumed Annabeth was looking. She winced when she found the blood and the cut that it was coming from.

“Gee, thanks. If only someone wasn’t trying to take my head off.”

Amara tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of her lips kept twitching up, giving her away. Annabeth had swiped her with her blade when she failed to move out of the way fast enough. She forgot that she’d been hit, focusing on trying to win instead.

“Shut up. I did not try to take off your head.”

Amara scoffed, all attempts to school her face gone as her eyebrows shot up.

“You totally were. In case your brain’s broke, wise girl, when half of your attacks are above chest height, that normally means you’re going for the head.”

“I know that!” Annabeth retorted, shoving Amara forward on the path. “My brain is not broken.”

The two were now pushing each other back and forth as they made their way back to their cabins, laughing as they went.

From an outside perspective the two could almost be confused as siblings, both with stormy gray eyes and deep brown hair. Their only glaring difference was their skin tone, Amara’s a freckled tan and Annabeth’s a golden brown, but skin tone rarely mattered in relation to gods and demigods.

Annabeth even thought they might have been related when Amara first got to Camp Half-Blood, but after she failed to solve any of the riddles Annabeth gave her, she knew there was no way Amara was a child of Athena.

The closer they got to the center of camp the more Amara tensed up, her giggles quieting down. Annabeth stopped hitting her shoulder against Amara’s, returning to the collected image that most people knew her by.

It was getting close to dinner time. Most of the campers were heading back toward their cabins to clean up. They’d probably start the campfire earlier today, they normally did on weekends to give everyone something to do. Plus the Apollo kids loved being able to show off their singing.

“I’ll see you after dinner.” Amara turned, walking backwards toward cabin eleven and facing Annabeth as she spoke. “I’ll save you a spot at the campfire if you remember—“

“—Amara, look—”

Annabeth didn’t even have time to warn her before someone’s shoulder hit her back, nearly knocking her over. Connor, who’d been chasing his brother Travis back to the cabin, was now on the ground.

“Ow, what are you made of?” Connor groaned. He seemed to realize what had just come out of him mouth because he followed it up with a quick, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to. Didn’t see you.”

By now Travis saw that he wasn’t being chased and circled back to the group, Annabeth also joining to make sure Amara was okay.

“It’s alright. Are you okay?”

Connor just gave her a thumbs up, mumbling something about being peachy as he stood back up.

Travis gave a quick hello to both of the girls before grabbing some of the hair above Connor’s ear and yanking his head sideways. He’d let go and was already on his way back to cabin eleven when Connor began chasing him again.

“Travis, I’m gonna kill you!”

It wasn’t entirely uncommon to see the two messing with each other. Normally they liked playing pranks on others, but when they were bored or couldn’t come up with anything particularly clever to do to someone else, they’d just resort to picking on one another.

The two disappeared inside before anything interesting happened, Amara now turning her attention back to Annabeth.

“As I was saying, I’ll save you a spot if you remember to bring one of your architecture books. I wanna look at some more of the statues.”

It wasn’t just the statues that Amara liked, but that had been a current obsession. Where Annabeth like the math and the physics on how famous architecture was built, Amara liked the aesthetics of it. They’d flip through books together and Annabeth would go on a tangent about mathematical marvels and Amara would always comment about how exceptionally crafted pieces were.

Annabeth would believe that Amara was a child of Apollo if she didn’t know how much the girl despised the sun.

The two parted ways, Annabeth promising to bring a book with her, and settled into their cabins.

The rest of the night went relatively smooth. Amara got to listen to the Stoll brothers argue during dinner until Luke told them to knock it off. The pair just took turns grumbling under their breath about Luke until they were released from the pavilion.

Then Annabeth and Amara talked the whole time they sat around the campfire. They took turns flipping through the book until they found something they liked, spinning it around to share with the other while they spoke.

When it was finally time for lights out, Amara was exhausted. It wasn’t long after her head hit her pillow that she fell asleep, blanket half balled up in her arms.

That night Amara was welcomed into her dreams by a row of torches lining a dark forest path. She swore she could hear the ocean somewhere, waves crashing down angrily against the shoreline. Thunder boomed overhead, loud enough that her ears rung and the ground shook, but she never saw any lightning and she didn’t feel any rain.

Suddenly a voice echoed through the woods.

You must protect the boy.

It was distorted, but it sounded like it was a woman. Amara wasn’t sure who the boy she was talking about was though. She couldn’t think of any of the boys in camp that she’d need to protect.

The voice was getting louder and it was now coming from all directions. Different sentences overlapped each other, but they all had the same sentiment.

Protect the boy. Save the boy. See him through it. Make sure he succeeds.

Eventually Amara couldn’t hear the sea anymore or the thunder overhead. All she could hear was the voice. Where it once echoed through the forest it now echoed in her head.

She covered her ears, but it didn’t help. She could hear the words rattling around inside her skull instead.

There was one final shout, leagues louder than the rest.

Save him!

And Amara shot out of bed, crying out as she did.

“The boy!”

She quickly glanced around the cabin, making sure her outburst hadn’t woken anybody else up. Several snores filled the room and not a single person budged.

Relieved that she was the only one awake she shoved her blanket off, it was only covering one of her legs anyway, and stood up.

Before she had a chance to do anything, thunder abruptly cracked through the cabin, immediately sending Amara into survival mode. She couldn’t shake the panic she’d felt in her dream, anxiety swirling in her chest.

What boy could the voice possibly have been talking about?

She needed to get to Chiron. Surely he’d have some sort of insight about it. Maybe the Oracle had told him something that would tie to her dream. She didn’t know.

She did know there was no way she was going back to sleep tonight.

She slipped on her white tennis shoes and looked out the window. Despite the thunder that wouldn’t stop rumbling, camp looked completely fine, like it was any other average summer—sorry, spring—night.

She looked down at her cotton shorts and oversized camp hoodie and figured she’d be just fine.

She closed the door to the cabin behind her as quietly as she could. She could hear the storm a lot better now that she was outside, rain hammering against the ground and wind howling through the trees.

She’d never been happier for the camp’s protective perimeter. She loved a good rainstorm, but just the thought of walking to the big house through that made her shiver.

Camp was a lot more relaxing in the middle of the night than it was during the day. It was a little odd how quiet the forge was, but the strawberry fields suddenly looked like the most enticing place in the world without a ton of blathering teenagers milling around it.

The wooden porch steps creaked under her weight as Amara made her way to the front door. It was at this point that she realized she wasn’t sure if Chiron would even be awake.

She made her way inside as she shooed the thought of Chiron asleep out of her mind. She didn’t want to think of the logistics of how a centaur sleeps right now.

She nosed around the hallway. Most rooms were dark and quiet. She continued through the house until she heard hushed voices coming from Chiron’s study.

She glanced through the half open doorway and found Annabeth standing there, chatting with Chiron in her camp t-shirt and pajama pants.

Apparently this was an eventful night for everyone.

“I know you can’t tell me everything, but maybe if you just shared, just a tiny, little bit, I could help you figure out how to fix—“

“—Annabeth,” Chiron interrupted. “I’ve already told you all that I can. You can’t fix everything no matter how much you’d like to.”

The girl crossed her arms, her right hand coming back up as she went to make another point.

Amara knocked on the door before Annabeth could speak. She’d eavesdropped enough, she didn’t want to get stuck standing by the door while the two went back and forth all night.

Amara swore she heard Chiron let out a sigh when she entered the room.

Annabeth just smiled at her. Maybe with two people asking Chiron about what was going on he’d crack and share something with them.

“Amara, what can I do for you tonight?”

The air seemed a lot heavier now that she had to actually spill the inner workings of her brain out loud. She sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly as she made her way to Annabeth’s side, now standing across from Chiron.

“I was hoping you’d be able to help me understand a dream I just had.”

Thunder rolled through the room, almost like it was trying to help her set the scene before she explained everything to Chiron. The rain was so heavy now that it sounded like it was beating against the roof instead of the protective barrier.

Annabeth’s eyes lit up when Amara revealed she’d had a dream. Most demigod dreams have a meaning, either a god trying to contact them or a vision about the future. If Chiron wasn’t going to let her help with whatever was going on with the gods then maybe she could help Amara decipher her dream.

“Well I can certainly try. Why don’t you—“

Chiron stopped as a panicked yell echoed through the house. The trio was silent as another cry filled the air, this one filled with despair. They made their way to the front door, Chiron swinging it open as Grover collapsed on the porch with a drenched, blonde haired boy.

Annabeth grabbed onto Amara’s hand, dragging her to stand over the poor boy with her. He barely looked responsive, his eyes faintly looking up at them as she whispered to herself in realization.

“The boy.”

“He’s the one,” Annabeth blurted out. “He must be.”

“Silence, Annabeth,” Chiron instructed. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”

Amara went to grab one arm of the boy while Annabeth grabbed the other, Chiron checking on Grover. As they pulled him inside and toward an infirmary bed, Amara thought about the fact that she no longer needed Chiron’s help figuring out her dream.

All she could concentrate on was the boy she was carrying.

NEXT CHAPTER ➜

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Trust

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: In which Amara Bishop sneaks on a quest to save the world with none other than the son of Poseidon: Percy Jackson.

WARNINGS: canon violence

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ACT ONE: THE LIGHTNING THIEF

I. The Disembodied Voice Knows Best (2.4k)

II. Welcome to Cabin Chaos (2.9k)

III. Son of the God of Toilets (4.4k)

IV. Place Your Bets

V. Capture the… Banner?

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𖤓 JUPITER - masterlist

Most recent — updated 11/6/24

Mercury — navigation hub

THE RIORDANVERSE

𖤓 Percy Jackson

TRUST: In which Amara Bishop sneaks on a quest to save the world with none other than the son of Poseidon: Percy Jackson (oc series)

THE GRISHAVERSE

𖤓 Kaz Brekker

A WOLF AMONGST CROWS: [coming soon] In which Fenna Koning and Kaz Brekker work together for financial gain while attempting to ignore their emotional dependency and crippling fear (oc series)

STRANGER THINGS

𖤓 Eddie Munson

SINNERS NEVER DIE: In which Melanie Meyers befriends Eddie Munson (oc series)

STAR WARS

𖤓 Din Djarin

ROYAL GHOST: In which Naiya Gallea and Din Djarin fight to protect their family (oc series)

HUNGER GAMES

𖤓 Finnick Odair

PARADOX: In which Alexa Wynn joins a revolution because Finnick Odair asks her to (oc series)

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

𖤓 Hiccup Haddock

FLOWERS OF FURY: In which Freya Bragason learns how to conquer the challenges of living in Berk (oc series)

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𖤓 VENUS - about me

✰ Kourtney ☾

she/they. twenty-two. bi. ace. neurodivergent. gemini. infp. 4w5. theatre and graphic design major. ex band kid. enjoyer of all things lavender. mango loco monster enthusiast. professional yapper. forklift certified.

LIKES: crocheting. sewing. video games. board games. card games. coloring. puzzles. history. photography. nighttime. piercings. tattoos.

I am a fountain of information. Just because I don’t have something mentioned in my profile doesn’t mean I don’t like it. Always feel free to message about anything if you wanna talk.

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I crosspost my full length OC works on ao3 and wattpad.

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I have a whole universe inside my head

Welcome! You are here…

𖤓 MERCURY

the planet of travel and commerce. Please use this complimentary guide to make your navigation through space easier.

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I’m writing a fic for Benjicot and I was curious as to whether y’all would prefer x reader or x oc? I plan on using Kieran Burton fancast for Benji and it would be a Benji x Stark!oc/reader fic.

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Paradox

PAIRING: finnick odair x fem!oc

SUMMARY: District three was not a career district. The recreational center in it was nothing more than a training center marketed as just a place for kids to have fun. It was where Alexa Wynn had learned basic survival skills, tablets overflowing with any piece of information she'd ever want to know. It's where she'd learned how to wield weapons, going through knives, swords, axes, spears, and many others until she was confident she could win with anything she was given. It's where she learned to swim, climb, and run long distances without wearing herself out.

Alexa had never wanted to go into the games, but after losing her older brother to them, she refused to be unprepared. And maybe the reaping really was rigged or maybe fate really was just that cruel, for Alexa's name was drawn from the bowl just two weeks after she turned sixteen. The last thing anyone expected was for her to actually win her game. The bloodiest one in years, the Capitol preached, and the pearl white snow that blanketed the map only showcased how true that statement was. If only Alexa could have known that it was just going to get bloodier from there.

WARNINGS: canon violence, blood, death, sex work (forced), drugs, -more to be added-

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ACT ONE: THE 74TH HUNGER GAMES

I. Definition of Insanity

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I. Definition of Insanity

PAIRING: finnick odair x fem!oc

SUMMARY: Finnick keeps Alexa company at a capitol party.

WARNINGS: illusions to sex work, mentions of drugs and death, dissociation

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PRETENDING WAS THE EASY PART. That’s what she told herself. It was almost second nature at this point. Repressing what she felt and instead putting on an act, showing people what they want to see. It was easier that way, less barbaric, when she followed along.

The Capitol parties were always a good test of her patience. Alexa was always pushed to the limit to see if she could disguise the loathing and repulsion she felt for all of them. It was partnered with an intense sense of guilt that would catch her by surprise every time she was happy to see another victor there, like a snake coiling around her ribcage and squeezing til she was out of air and she couldn't hear anything but her heartbeat in her ears.

It was twisted in a way. She would be glad to see another familiar face only to be blindsided by the burning anger at herself for being happy when another person is stuck in the same situation she was. She figured she’d eventually get over the self-loathing, but apparently she had enough hate in her heart to go around.

It was a hate that increased tenfold when an arm wove itself around her waist and pulled her into a conversation like she was actually interested. She was definitely getting better at faking it. The smile she felt on her face never would have fooled anyone seven years ago.

Seven years ago she never would have expected to have Capitol viruses hanging all over her either. Touching her hair, her face, her shoulders, any part of her that they could reach. They would dote on her like she was a shiny new pet. To them she was. Nothing more than a brand new toy they got to play with.

Alexa barely paid attention to anything the man was saying, a drink practically being forced into her hand. She could drink it and hope it wasn’t roofied, that it would be strong enough so she could blur through the next few hours. Or she could skip the risk of it being drugged and instead run the risk of him getting disproportionately upset because how dare she deny his kind gesture.

His hands were wandering, they always did. Like clockwork they pushed a strand of hair from her face, fiddled with her necklace and trailed across her collarbone, traced up her ribcage and stopped just below her chest, not daring to be improper in a public setting. Alexa was sure he was saying something, but she couldn’t seem to hear him, all her interest absorbed by the drink in her hands.

It was in intriguing shade of purple, with glitter sparkling throughout the glass. She knew from experience that sometimes the most appetizing looking food in the Capitol had the most revolting tastes and affects. If she never smelled cinnamon and licorice again she could die happy.

She didn’t have much time to contemplate her drink further, or pretend to entertain the man who attached himself to her before he let her go like she had the plague and disappeared. The man who took over his place was definitely an upgrade and one she couldn’t be happier to see, despite the devil on her shoulder screaming that she was a horrible person for thinking it.

Finnick Odair never did have a humble presence. He was dressed in an obnoxiously nice suit that didn’t match his style at all, no doubt provided by a stylist like her dress was. Alexa wondered if the horrible color matches were a joke by President Snow, Finnick’s suit an interesting deep purple that did nothing for his complexion and her’s an oddly bright orange that she never would consider commissioning a piece in. She did favor the purple of Finnick’s suit over the purple of the drink she was handed though.

“You look like a highlighter.”

“And you look like a cluster of grapes.”

“Did you know that grapes aren’t actually purple? They’re red, they just paint them purple.”

There was a long pause as Alexa stared at him, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth slightly open. The smile on his face almost made him look like he was proud of what he just said. Maybe he was.

“I know about the grapes,” she retorted, finally discarding the sparkling glass to the counter behind her, as far away from her as she could manage without looking strange. “What did you say to him to make him flee so quickly?”

The change of subject was harsh, but if she focused on the fact that she was dressed like an oversized construction cone any longer, she was going to fling herself from the balcony.

Finnick just shrugged, moving closer and leaning against the bar next to her.

“I told him that Mersa Bardot has had her eyes on you all night and that seemed to do the trick.”

Alexa’s lips parted just enough for her to take in a sharp breath, whipping around to stand in front of him so she could look him in the eyes.

“You didn’t.”

“I definitely did.”

“You idiot,” she jabbed him lightly in the ribs. “If word gets around that Bardot is looking at me, she might actually get some ideas.”

“Come on. You can’t deny that she would be better than whatever he had in mind.”

His lips quirked up as he saw her actually consider his words, her eyes narrowing when she reached the conclusion that he was probably right. He knew she was partial to men, but he also knew that women were preferable. They were often slightly more considerate when it came down to it, even if it was nothing more than just ignoring them instead of tormenting them.

His posture relaxed when he heard her sigh in acceptance. She nearly collapsed back into her spot against the bar, Finnick sliding an arm over her shoulders so she could lean against him. All the fight she had in her to go back and forth with him was drained from her body, her energy slowly leaving now that she didn’t have a client to please. She was sure that they’d be punished for not mingling at the party and pushing their assets later, but currently Alexa wasn’t really sure she cared.

“Have you seen Cashmere tonight? I heard a couple people asking about her as I was making my rounds.”

Finnick always was softhearted, looking out for everyone even when it wasn’t for his benefit. She wouldn’t deny it if someone said that she was softhearted as well. After all, it only took a mutual understanding for her to feel for someone’s situation, but there was something about the way Finnick cared about others that was beyond genuine.

“She was here last week. I’m pretty sure she was sent home until the reaping.”

This caught his attention. Why would Alexa know Cashmere was here unless she was too.

“Did Snow have you here last week? Last week and this week?”

She simply nodded her head, too exhausted to meet his eye or respond verbally. The more she thought about how long she’d been in the Capitol recently, the more she seemed to shut down. She decided that if she just didn’t think about it, it was like it wasn’t happening at all. It was like a vague nightmare she was stuck in that she’d wake from eventually.

“But last week was your birthday. Don’t tell me he made you work on your birthday.”

She shook her head no this time. Technically she never worked on her birthday, she just worked two days before and the day after.

“No, I worked a few days last week but not my birthday.”

“Have you been home at all then?”

He didn’t really need the answer to that. It was obvious that she hadn’t been home in a few weeks. After the party tonight, they’d probably get lucky to go home the next day and stay until the reaping, where they’d inevitably be shipped back to the Capitol with their tributes and mentor partner.

She never responded but Finnick kept talking anyway.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already got your gift ready for you when we come back for the games. Would have given it to you tonight but I wasn’t sure if you’d be here so I didn’t bring it. I bet your family’s got everything ready for you back home too.”

She hummed along to him, grabbing his hand and shifting it down to her side so she could play with his fingers as her eyes closed. She hadn’t truly relaxed since she’d gotten to the Capitol. Finnick figured if he could give her a sense of comfort, even if it was small and temporary, he’d allowed her to enjoy every minute of it.

He’s seen where she goes when she’s left on her own, like a ghost floating around somewhere in the recesses of her mind while her body just goes though the motions. He’s been there before, Alexa being the person to ground him. He wasn’t going to let anyone bother her until she was ready. Not if he could help it anyway.

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Flowers of Fury

pairing: hiccup haddock x fem!oc

summary: Freya Bragason was never that interested in Berk's war against dragons. Most people couldn't understand it. After all she'd lost her father to them at only a few years old, but she just didn't have any desire to kill them. Instead of training to defeat the beasts, Freya preferred to spend her time helping her mother make medicine or craft useful items for the people of Berk. Despite this, Freya still earned herself a less than stellar title in her opinion: Freya the Furious. She'd admit she didn't exactly have the best track record, going as far as accidentally breaking her brother's arm once. But as the youngest of five, she learned early on that she had to be able to fight her own battles. She just hadn't expected that battle to be against her own village.

warnings: canon violence, death, injuries

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one: this is berk

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One: This is Berk

summary: hiccup haddock makes berk’s war against dragons even harder, but at least he took down a night fury.

pairing: hiccup haddock x fem!oc

warnings: canon violence

word count: 4.2k

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Freya Bragason could pinpoint the exact moment her life changed forever, starting with the day her brother, Kare, cut off some of her dark hair in her sleep. While she wasn’t known for being a particularly aggressive viking, Freya did suffer from seemingly random bouts of violence, of which the second her mood soured everyone around her suffered the consequences. Growing up with four older brothers, it was a wonder she wasn’t more standoffish and quick to anger, but despite that and her upbringing in Berk, an island even the toughest of vikings wouldn’t consider easily inhabited, she typically had a calm and soothing air about her.

The island of Berk could only be described as twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death, located solidly on the meridian of misery. Despite the islands rather horrible weather, the view was quite beautiful. It was spectacularly mountainous, with tall spikes growing from the cold water below. Berk was mostly settled on a small, semi-flat plain that stood on the east side, with the great hall carved into the rocky wall against the back. Over the years, houses continued to climb the sides of the mountains, preferring the advantage of height compared to expanding into the forest to the east of the village.

The village, while harsh, was filled with only the toughest of vikings who had resided there for the last seven generations. It definitely wasn’t a smooth sailing seven generations, nearly every building in Berk was new, but it was sturdy. Vikings were stubborn creatures and didn’t like to admit defeat when the dragons that swarmed the island continuously set the village ablaze. So they rebuilt, and rebuilt, and put out fires, and rebuilt.

It was early in the morning with the sun still not peeking above the blanket of water in the distance. Despite the darkness that still covered the world, the residents of Berk were wide awake. Flames covered the roofs and burnt lines were splayed across the grass as the dragons swooped down to steal away the sheep that reside there. Vikings were hanging from the heads of dragons or the legs of livestock as they tried to deter the beasts from destroying their home yet again.

With a shout from outside, Hiccup threw open the door of his house, swiftly closing it again when a Monstrous Nightmare spewed fire at him. With the front of his home now lit up in flames, he snuck from the building he was instructed to stay at into the middle of the chaos. Vikings were falling around him, weapons nearly shaving a few inches from the already spindly boy as he ran. He wasn’t sure why, but things did seem to go remarkably worse with him around.

He ducked beneath a carried beam, turning back as he passed another viking. Hiccup winced when he watched the man smack his head against the wooden beam, causing almost everyone one to hit the ground. People continued to push past him from behind, hitting his shoulders roughly. He turned only to be met with a Gronkle blast that toppled him.

He was quick to pick himself up, racing up the wooden ramp leading from the docks that he’d hopped down to. The boards creaked beneath him as he passed an entourage of vikings diving headfirst into the battlefield behind him, yelling at him as they passed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Get inside!”

“What are you doing out?”

“Get back inside!”

A hand the size of his head snatched the back of his fur vest, pulling him back away from a line of fire as a dragon flew past. He was now dangling in the air as he was held up.

“Hiccup!” a voice the boy was dreading to hear bellowed out. “What is he doing out again—” Hiccup was turned, now facing the man as he got closer to his face.

“What are you doing out?! Get inside!”

Hiccup was pushed forward as his boots finally touched the grass again. He looked back at the Viking before him as he stumbled over his own feet.

That was Stoick the Vast, the chief of Berk. He was a large burly man, a head taller than those around him with arms as thick as tree trunks and a beard a brighter red that the fires growing across Berk. They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon’s head clean off its shoulders.

Hiccup watched as Stoick the Vast lifted an upturned wagon above his head, throwing it at a passing dragon. The dragon was stunned, dropping the sheep it was carrying before flying away from the man. Stoick turned to the Viking beside him and questioned him.

“What do we got?”

“Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks. Oh, and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare,” the Viking replied quickly, ducking beneath his shield when a blast rang off nearby. Stoick the Vast didn’t even seemed phased, standing proudly as he spoke.

“Any Night Furies?”

“None so far,” the man answered, still cowering under the cover of his shield. An understandable reaction.

“Good.”

Hiccup was off again before Stoick could catch him still out amongst that battlefield. Vikings around him were shouting out commands as he passed, “Hoist the torches!” being the only one he could hear clearly. Flaming sticks were tossed into the bowl of the torches as they were raised to the skies. He never really understood the purpose of the torches. Dragons breathed fire, the fact obvious as Berk was alight around them, so Hiccup wasn’t sure if they were supposed to ward them off or attract them to the flames, but either way they weren’t very effective.

Hiccup continued on, finally reaching the blacksmith shop. He rushed inside past Gobber who was hammering out a sword on the anvil. Gobber wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hammer as he spoke.

“Oh! Nice of you to join the party! I thought you’d been carried off!”

Gobber was a rather short, stocky viking who was missing his left hand and right foot. His missing limbs definitely didn’t slow him down, his stumps typically covered by one of many creations he had come up with to make working in the forge easier. That creation was currently his hammer. Gobber had known Hiccup his entire life, letting him become an apprentice in the shop once he was old enough.

Hiccup moved through the forge as if he’d finally found his place, yanking on his apron and typing the laces behind his back. “Who, me? Nah! Come on, I’m way—“ his voice strained as he lifted up a nearby spiked mallet with both hands and every bit of might he had in his body, “—too muscular for their taste.” He was just able to get it high enough to hang it on the wall with the other weapons. “They wouldn’t know what to do with all this,” Hiccup gestured weakly to himself, his arm already sore as he flexed it to Gobber.

“Well, they need toothpicks, don’t they?” Gobber laughed as he swapped out his hammer for another attachment.

Hiccup made a face at him as he passed, throwing open the wooden shutters of the window. No sooner as the window was open there were vikings laying down their damaged weapons. Hiccup clumsily gathered up the twisted metal, carrying everything over to the smoldering coals before dropping them across it. He moved over to the bellow, and using all of his weight it eventually gave under him, stoking the coals back up into a flame. He ran back to the window to grab another armful of tools when he saw others running around outside dousing the growing flames of Berk.

Putting out fires was exactly what Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third wishes he could be doing right now, helping the other teenagers his age hauling around buckets of water. Instead he was stuck in the blacksmith shop with Gobber since no one, not even his own father, trusted him to hold his own outside against a dragon attack.

He shied back as a dragon ignited the house across from the shop, Hiccup feeling the warmth of the fire from where he stood. Everything felt as though it happened in slow motion as he heard someone yell about the fire and the bucket brigade showed up.

Fishlegs was a rather chubby viking, with his time normally spent coursing through the book of dragons, making cards filled with information for each one. While he wasn’t particularly spry, he was strong and he held more kindness in him than anyone else in Berk.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were a pair of energetic blonde haired twins. Often found pulling pranks when they weren’t pummeling each other, one was rarely found without the other. Even though they weren’t the smartest set of vikings in the village, the pair would follow their friends into the dreariest of situations.

Snotlout was probably Hiccup’s least favorite of the group, although some of that was definitely due to family rivalry. He didn’t hate Snotlout, he just wasn’t too keen on the fact that Snotlout was impatiently waiting, and possibly scheming, for his disappearance. It didn’t help that Snotlout was considered a successful viking whereas Hiccup would describe himself as leaving something to be desired. All around though, if you excluded the brunet’s tendency to brag about his skills, Snotlout was a fairly strong and dependable viking. That is, when he’s not chasing after the girls around him.

Astrid was even more of a true viking than Snotlout if you asked Hiccup. She was dedicated to learning all about how to kill a dragon, even going as far as to have already trained for dragon training despite it not beginning for another week. She typically carried around an axe and had a look that she’d crack someone’s skull open if they made her mad. Hiccup truly believed she would. After all, Astrid was a particularly aggressive viking.

Finally, there was Freya. Freya was an odd case. She showed no interest in killing the dragons that plagued Berk, but she was still successful in providing for the village and nice enough to befriend everyone on the island. She was typically found working with plants, fibers, or leather, crafting something useful for herself or to trade for other items across Berk. Her only negative attribute was probably her random violent outbursts. Every now and again, something would set her off and it was like a warpath until she calmed down again. Hiccup has never personally experienced her anger, maintaining a fairly positive friendship with her, but he had seen her in a bad mood before and if it was any indication he hoped he was never on the receiving end of it.

The girl walked away from the house as yet another dragon’s blast hit it, ruining her efforts and backlighting her in a wall of flames. Freya’s dark hair was pushed past her face, braids and adornments shining, the fire making it appear more red than normal. Hiccup couldn’t help but stare. The fur wrapped around her shoulders and tied to her forearms helped protect her from burns as she marched toward him and away from the flames. She had a pair of seax, one on either side, strapped to her waist. Normally she was also armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, but seeing as how her hands were full carrying buckets, she didn’t have it on her at the moment. Hiccup was entranced.

He snapped out of it when Gobber yanked him up by the back of his shirt. Hiccup had only moved a fraction of an inch before he’d been caught. At this point he was convinced Gobber knew what he was going to do before he did.

“Oh, come on!” Hiccup complained, “Let me out, please. I need to make my mark!”

“Oh you’ve made plenty of marks,” Gobber exclaimed as he sat Hiccup down, away from the window, and repeatedly jabbed him in the chest. “All in the wrong places.”

“Please, two minutes,” Hiccup pleaded. “I’ll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date!” With Freya hopefully. Or maybe even more unlikely, he’d get attention from Astrid.

Gobber just stared at the boy before listing off all the reasons Hiccup was not able to kill a dragon “You can’t lift a hammer. You can’t swing an axe. You can’t even throw one of these,” he held up a bola to emphasize his point. Hiccup watched as it was snatched from his hand, the viking throwing it into the air to take down a Gronkle.

“Okay, fine,” Hiccup reluctantly agreed before gesturing to the machine behind him as he shifted closer to it. “But this will throw it for me.”

He smacked his hand on the top of the machine causing it to open, flinging the loaded bola at Gobber, who narrowly avoided it, before it smashed an unsuspecting viking at the window in the head. Not a great start. Hiccup winced as the viking fell to the ground.

“See!” Gobber hobbled toward Hiccup and the launcher. “Now this right here is what I’m taking about.”

Hiccup stumbled over his words as he tried to explain away the mishap. “But it—I—mild calibration issue—“ Gobber cut him off.

“Hiccup! If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you need to stop all…,” Gobber gestured at Hiccup, “this.”

“But you just pointed to all of me.”

“Yes!” Gobber knocked him in the shoulder. “That’s it! Stop being all of you.”

The pair nodded back and forth, Hiccup to egg on Gobber and Gobber in an attempt to once again get through to Hiccup to stop.

“You, you sir,” Hiccup pointed a finger at Gobber, “are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much raw vikingness contained? There will be consequences!” Was he seriously doing this bit? So not proving his point.

Gobber seemed less than impressed, turning from him as he gave instructions. “I’ll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now.” A sword was roughly dropped into Hiccup’s arms.

Hiccup sighed. Packing the sword over to the grinding stone, he set it down and began sharpening it.

One day, he was going to get out there. Because killing a dragon is everything around Berk. A Nadder head would be sure to get him at least noticed. They were quick and covered in sharp spikes, almost guaranteeing recognition if he could outsmart one. Gronkles are tougher. They weren’t fast, but their thick skin was near impossible to penetrate. Taking down one of those would definitely get him a girlfriend. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads meant twice the status. One releases a toxic gas that chokes up everything in its radius. The other emits a spark, lighting the gas of the first. And then there’s the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best vikings go after those. They have a nasty habit of setting themselves on fire. Add that to the fact that the fire they spit is more akin to flaming magma, and they make a rather formidable opponent.

But the ultimate prize is the dragon that no one’s ever seen. It’s blast was so strong that even the charge up could be heard from miles away. It’s fire was odd, more like a purple light streaking through the sky until it made contact with its target, destroying anything in its path beyond the ability to be repaired. That dragon is the—

“Night fury!”

Hiccup looked out just in time to see the sonic blast from the dragon demolish a catapult. The creature never steals food, never shows itself, and never misses. The dragon circled back, hitting the rocky base on which the catapult used to sit.

No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That’s why Hiccup was going to be the first.

Abandoning the sword he was sharpening, Hiccup headed toward his machine, passing Gobber as he fixed an axe to his stump. “Man the forge, Hiccup. They need me out there.” Did they need Gobber specifically or? The man hobbled out of the shop, turning back to Hiccup before taking off. “Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean.” He gave a mighty yell before disappearing into the fray.

He admired Gobber’s enthusiasm that he would listen and actually stay at the forge. A grin crossed his face as he wheeled the machine out the door and through the hoards of vikings who were once again yelling, “Where are you going?”, “Hiccup!”, “Get back here!” He shouted out reassurances as he passed them, heading toward the cliff’s edge. Once he reached it, he opened the contraption and sat silently, scanning the skies for the beast.

I will kill a Night Fury then everyone will finally respect me.

The Night Fury roared in the distance, but he didn’t see it anywhere. He muttered to himself quietly as he could, “Come on. Give me something to shoot at. Give me something to shoot at…” He nervously glanced around when he heard another roar.

The roars were getting louder, Hiccup closely scanning the sky waiting for the creature. There was a shift, like the stars were disappearing, and then he saw it.

It’s outline glided across the sky as it covered the stars, pitch black swirling around in a sea of little lights. The tell tale sign of it’s charge up echoed across the cliffs as it’s purple blast hit the catapult in front of him, lighting up the sky. There he saw the beast fly through the explosion, getting the quickest glimpse of it, before he released the bola.

He was sent flying back, hitting the ground feet from the machine. Hiccup was quick to right himself, watching the dragon as it roared, falling from the sky. Did he actually just…

“I hit it. Yes, I hit it!” Hiccup jumped up, arms above his head and smile on his face as he celebrated. “Did anybody see that?”

There was a growling behind him as he heard a loud crunch. He slowly turned around coming face to face with a huge Monstrous Nightmare.

“Except for you.”

The dragon reared back and Hiccup took off through the hills, screaming as he went. He finally shoots down a Night Fury and this is how he goes? Dying before he can tell anyone? Seriously?!

The dragon snapped behind him as he ran, spitting out short streams of magma as they went that narrowly missed him. Hiccup was so not made for this, taking in sharp breaths as his skidded across the cobblestone and behind the metal wrapped post of one of the torches. He couldn’t breathe.

The Monstrous Nightmare roared again, spewing flaming lava around the sides of the post as Hiccup made himself as small as possible. He was going to die here. He shoved down his thoughts as he peered around the right side of the now burning post, unaware that the dragon had wrapped itself around the left side behind him.

A flash of something caught his vision, and he turned as Stoick the Vast kicked the Monstrous Nightmare in the face, pushing it away from Hiccup. The pair rolled away from him and as the chief stood, he became the dragon’s primary focus. It let out a thundering roar and Stoick only fixed his helm upon his head as the dragon looked at him. It reared back again, ready to burn the chief to ash. But as it opened it’s mouth, only a small, pitiful amount was released, far from reaching its target.

“You’re all out.”

Stoick stalked toward the dragon, slamming his fist across its face when he reached it. His punches continued and as the dragon retreated, Stoick followed, delivering a beat down to the beast until it finally lifted its wings and flew away. However, now with the dragon gone, Stoick the Vast’s entire attention was on Hiccup, who was still standing behind the post of the torch, even after it finally burned though and fell to the ground, it’s flaming top taking most of the docks ramp, and a few poor vikings, with it.

There was one more thing that Hiccup forgot to mention.

He winced, looking away sheepishly as he apologized, “Sorry, dad...”

A large mass of vikings had made their way up to Stoick and his son, the group unable to do anything but watch as the dragons finally retreated, taking much of their livestock, a few nets full thanks to Hiccup, with them. In their wake they left much of Berk ablaze, Hiccup almost sure he didn’t help with that either, as he felt the glares of the Vikings surrounding him on the back of his head. Could the ground please open up and swallow him whole? Please!

“Okay, but I hit a Night Fury.”

Stoick reached out and grabbed him by the back of his fur vest, dragging him through town and through the center of the glaring vikings. Maybe he should have timed that better.

“It’s not like the last few times, dad! I mean, I really, actually hit it! You guys were busy and I had a very clear shot,” Hiccup explained. If he was already in a hole, he might as well dig it deeper while he’s there. “It went down of Raven Point. Let’s get a search party out there before—“

“Stop!” Stoick released Hiccup as he cut him off, his voice echoing in his ears. “Just stop. Every time you step outside, disaster follows. Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!”

The second Stoick stopped talking, Hiccup could help but to interject, the silence was just too loud at the moment. “Eh, between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding. Don’t you think?” There you go, Hiccup, just keep digging that hole. Six feet deep should do it.

“This isn’t a joke, Hiccup!” The man groaned, trying to reel himself back in as he yelled at the boy in front of everyone. Hiccup wasn’t sure if public humiliation was really the way to get through to him, but he couldn’t exactly tell his father he’d rather talk about this inside. “Why can’t you follow the simplest orders?”

“I—I—I can’t stop myself. I see a dragon and I just have to just kill it, you know?” Oh for the love of Odin, stop talking! “It’s… who I am, dad.”

The man before him just grabbed his head, eyes closed as he responded. “Oh, you’re many things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer is not one of them.” His hand dropped and he made eye contact with Hiccup. Hiccup looked away, the disappointment radiating from his father as he spoke. “Get back to the house,” Stoick looked to Gobber who moved closer to the pair. “Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up.”

Great, a walk of shame through the town with Gobber.

He slowly trudged back toward his house, Gobber following only a step behind him. Hiccup wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the public chew out from his dad or that fact that he’d once again managed to make Berk’s fight against the dragons more difficult, even if he did actually shoot down a Night Fury.

Hiccup sulked past the same group of teens he was looking up to not twenty minutes earlier, none of them hiding their distain for him. Ruffnut laughed loudly as Tuffnut made a comment. “Quite the performance.”

But it still wasn’t as bad as having to listen to Snotlout, who was all too jaunty with a grin on his face. “I’ve never seen anyone mess up that badly. That helped.”

Hiccup held back from saying something he’d regret. “Thank you, thank you. I was trying.” He hoped there was enough sarcasm in his words that it could seep through Snotlout’s thick skull, but he doubted it.

Astrid, thankfully, didn’t say anything. Instead she sat silently on the stairs holding her axe. The look on her face was a message all in its own though, you screwed everything up again.

Freya was sitting next to Astrid on the stairs. She had finally gotten her bow and arrows back, the girl picking at the metal arrowhead of one of the arrows, running the tip of it under her ends of her fingernails. The look on her face was wildly different to the blonde next to her. It definitely wasn’t disappointment and it wasn’t quite pity. It was almost like an understanding.

Freya Bragason was looking at Hiccup Haddock like she understood exactly what he was going through. And Hiccup wanted to know why.

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Royal Ghost

pairing: din djarin x fem!oc

summary: Naiya Gallea was a fighter. She had lived through the loss of her family, the destruction of her home planet, and getting shot. She had survived breaking onto a mandalorian covert and a multitude of bounty hunting jobs gone wrong. Life had not been the kindest to Naiya, but she refused to let that stop her from enjoying everything it still had to offer. Having flown around the galaxy with the Mandalorian for seven years now, Naiya had found her happy place. Nothing could compare to the sleep-deprived conversations with Din, the thrill she'd get when he'd occasionally let her fly the Razor Crest, or the stupid games she had come up with to pass the time. Life for Naiya was perfect again, until one small bounty flipped her entire world upside down.

warnings: violence, death, graphic descriptions, standard star wars warnings

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zero. back at the start

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Zero: Back at the Start

summary: naiya gallea escapes a war and ends up in a mandalorian covert.

pairing: din djarin x fem!oc

warnings: descriptions of injuries, violence

word count: 1.5k

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The pain was the first thing that woke her up.

Naiya had drifted off in the pilot’s seat after setting the autopilot for Nevarro, hoping to get a bit of sleep before she landed. Unfortunately, she had been jolted awake when she unconsciously turned to get more comfortable and twisted her injured leg.

She’d been able to get the bleeding to stop not long after escaping Adeaara, but she knew she needed to get the slug out of her thigh before the wound started to heal. She could feel it rubbing against the nerves and muscles in her left leg, but the angle made it nearly impossible to get a good look at the wound, so she simply bandaged it and prayed to the Maker that she’d be able to get the mandalorians to help her before it caused any permanent damage.

She gasped for breath, standing sharply and putting all her weight on her good leg hoping to relieve some of her suffering. It didn’t and she knew it wouldn’t. She’d tried everything she could think of in the last forty-eight hours to alleviate it, yet the pain throbbing through her thigh never seemed to cease.

She leaned forward onto the edge of the control panel, clenching her jaw as she slowly put more weight onto her left leg. Moving too quickly, she nearly hit the ground as a sharp pain shot through her body. She huffed, slamming her palm down weakly onto the panel.

She was being weak. She was already a coward; she could not afford to be weak too.

Naiya finally got her weight settled so that she was on two feet and carefully loosened the cargo strap that was tightly tied around her leg, removing the torn bit of shirt she was using to soak up her blood. The slug had hit her on the side of her upper left thigh and she was fervently cussing its inconvenient location. Had the bullet hit her a few more inches toward the top of her leg, she’d have been able to remove it and let her wound heal. But here she was, incapable of fixing her own injury by herself and forced to seek out help. It was infuriating.

She ripped a fresh strip from the base of her shirt, the cloth now ending just above the waistband of her faded pants. If she ripped anymore from it, her cuirass would definitely dig into her skin when she went to put it back on. Naiya shook her head, focusing on folding the strip up and placing it over her wound, retying the cargo strap tightly to keep it in place.

The navigation system lit up, informing her that she was almost at Nevarro.

She moved over to the small hammock behind her and pulled back the side. Inside the baby was sleeping soundly, little fist smushed against his cheek. He was rare, his pale skin and few locks of white hair almost a definitely sign that he would have been trained as an Adahmeer despite being male. What were the odds she stumbled upon him of all people while fleeing Adeaara.

Seeing that he was still asleep, she quietly began sorting through her armor on the floor below him. She’d managed to find some leftover black paint from the last time she’d touched up her ship and coated her armor in it to hid the bright teal metal that would immediately give her away. It wasn’t perfect but at least now she’d just appear mandalorian if she was caught.

She carefully pulled it all on, double checking that her cuirass wouldn’t dig into her lower stomach. Hearing the navigation system beep a warning that they were just outside Nevarro’s atmosphere Naiya quickly grabbed a sturdy piece of fabric and tied it around herself, making sure there was extra padding between her and the baby before she situated him in the makeshift pack. He rustled slightly, but settled back in almost as fast as he’d been disturbed.

Shifting back into her pilot’s chair, Naiya took control of the space craft. The landing was easy, something she had done many times before, but the terrain of the new planet was what caused her to pause. Nervarro was grey and barren, no sign of life other than the small city she had landed next to. It was very different from Adeaara.

Naiya walked toward the back of her ship, checking her weapons and securing a cloak over her body and hood over her helmet before dropping the ramp and advancing into the dull city. Despite its drab appearance, the streets were teeming with life. Intrigued by the market, she couldn’t help but move into the swarm of people and peruse the goods of a few booths. There were fruits, jewelry, books, and other trinkets that she’d never seen before surrounding her.

A knock into her side was all it took to bring her back to reality. Shockwaves of pain spread through her system, reminding her why she was even on this planet in the first place. She needed to locate the Mandalorian enclave, but first she had to find a Mandalorian to lead her there.

She stationed herself near the middle of the bazaar, leaning against an empty crate as she surveyed the people traipsing through the market. People watching wasn’t nearly as exciting as she had hoped it would be and Naiya was beginning to zone out until a sliver of light reflecting off a helmet caught her eyes.

“Took you long enough,” she grumbled under her breath. She pushed herself off her perch, swaying slightly, and checked her hood before following after the Mandalorian. He was easy to spot, a large hunk of orange and silver metal pushing his way through those filling the streets; Naiya fell back farther than normal to help avoid suspicion. He didn’t go much farther into the small city, just enough to where he was out of the center of the market, before he ducked through an opening covered by a sheet of cloth.

Naiya waited, counting the bricks on the wall across the street to waste time. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was giving him time to move into the building, especially considering she wasn’t even after him, but regardless she gave him a few minutes before she followed through the doorway after him.

She hid behind a wall near the bottom of the stairs, looking around to get a sense of her surroundings. She had severely underestimated the number of mandalorians taking refuge in the covert, watching as kids ran down the halls weaving in between the multitude of adults.

“Hey!”

A blaster shot hit the wall beside her. Naiya secured her right arm around the baby as she activated a small force field on her vambrace to protect them. She shoved her hood off and grabbed her sword from her back, the bright teal reflecting the dim light around her.

“I’m not here to fight you.”

The mandalorian paused at seeing her helmet, but tightened his grip on his blaster at the sight of Naiya’s sword.

“You claim you don’t want a fight, but your stance says otherwise.”

Naiya rotated her wrist, sword ready to swing if the mandalorian got too close.

“You shot at me first.”

“You are an unidentified intruder. I am protecting my people.”

Naiya scoffed, replacing her sword in its sheath. This mandalorian was slow but in her state her sword was nothing but an empty threat. Despite her helmet, the mandalorian stayed in a defensive stance, hand on the trigger in case she made any movement he didn’t like. It seems this sect of mandalorian was a lot more guarded than in the stories she’d heard from her buir growing up.

She shifted to take a step forward, biting back a groan as pain jolted through her body.

“Look, I could force my way through you and into your covert to find your medic, however I’m not feeling particularly combative right now and I am please asking that you lower your blaster and help me. If not for me, do it for the baby. He’s been through enough already.”

Naiya watched as the mandalorian’s helmet shifted and, as if he was seeing the baby secured to her chest for the first time, immediately dropped his weapon and stood up taller. She was relieved to know that even if the people of this covert weren’t too keen on outsider mandalorians making their way in unannounced, they were soft for children.

She was sure she could see him sigh before he motioned for her to follow him deep into the maze of tunnels under the city.

The trek was slow as Naiya hobbled behind the mandalorian, his gait drastically smaller than normal. The air was silent save for her small grunts of pain and the occasional passing of other mandalorians.

They paused outside a dimly lit entry way, the mandalorian raising his hand to motion for Naiya to stop. His quickly disappeared inside the room, his visit short as he reappeared to hold the sheet of cloth back for her to enter. The mandalorian took his leave there, his task of leading the newcomer to the medic complete.

It wasn’t until later when her scream echoed through the tunnels that he felt guilty for just leaving her there.

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Meladie Headcanons

pairing: eddie munson x fem!oc melanie meyers

a/n: here’s a treat for everyone since I’ve been busy and haven’t really had time to write much. some of these are canon and some aren’t so small spoiler warning for sinners never die but honestly they’re harmless ones. also, these aren’t all of my headcanons for them, so definitely look out for some more in the future.

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Eddie has night terrors and starts spending most night at Melanie’s apartment because they aren’t as bad when she’s there

He brings his Lord of the Rings books when he finds out Melanie’s never read them

Eddie reads them out loud because she likes hearing his voice

Melanie babysits her niece and nephew and Eddie helps because he wants to spend time with her

Eddie discovers he’s a lot better with kids than he thought, especially when he finds out he can entertain them with made up stories

Eddie helps Melanie through her depressive episodes when she’s convinced she’s a failure who will never amount to anything

Eddie absolutely loses it on Melanie’s mother when they run into each other at the store over the trauma she’s caused Melanie

Melanie crashes dinner at the Munson household on a weekly basis

Eddie returns the favor by always tagging along when Melanie goes to her brother’s house

Game nights!

Eddie beats Melanie at almost every board game and Melanie beats Eddie at almost every card game

Melanie learns how to play dnd because Eddie will talk about it for hours

She probably knows more about dnd lore and Eddie’s current campaigns than anyone in Hellfire

Eddie absolutely creates npc’s based on Melanie

Their relationship is just pan²

Eddie flirts with Steve while Melanie makes passes at Nancy

They totally didn’t make a small bet about who could get a kiss first

Dustin also totally didn’t catch on and bet on Eddie

Dustin spends way to much time bothering Melanie and Eddie when Steve pisses him off

They invite Robin, Nancy, and Steve over for movie nights at Melanie’s apartment

They never watch horror movies

Eddie finally convinces Melanie to play some of the guitar she knows for him

He’s aggressively encouraging because he knows she gets really nervous playing in front of people

Melanie goes to all of Corroded Coffin’s gigs and helps them make and sell their merch

They have matching guitar pick necklaces. Eddie makes Melanie one when he noticed she kept stealing his. Melanie then gets a paint pen and writes “E” on the back of hers and “M” on the back of Eddie’s

Eddie occasionally does Melanie’s make up and vice versa

Eddie gets a job at a music store

Eddie convinces Melanie to leave her job at the hardware store and join him at the music store

Eddie kind of moving in with Melanie since he spends more time there than anywhere else

Melanie threatens anyone who still accuses Eddie of the Vecna murders

She definitely didn’t get arrested once because of it

Taglist: @eddiemunson4ever

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Two: Black Sabbath and Dr. Pepper

summary: melanie bothers eddie at lunch again and they make plans to hang out.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!oc

warnings: none

word count: 1.25k

a/n: at not a single point while writing this did I have any idea where it was going. do with that what you will. I also forgot to mention that there is no plot to this story and it is an entirely self-indulgent fix-it fic.

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Eddie Munson was only given two weeks of peace before Melanie Meyers gave him heart failure again.

Local scholarship applications had just opened which naturally led to the ‘what colleges are you applying to’ conversations and if Melanie was asked one more time where she was considering going, she was going to scream. So naturally, to avoid the aggravating pestering of the Collins sisters once again, Melanie decided to pop over to Eddie Munson’s table for some peace and quiet. After all, it didn’t go so bad the first time.

He was writing something in a notebook, scribbling aggressively as though if he stopped for a second he would lose all his thoughts. He did stop, however, when he noticed her sitting down.

If Melanie had to rate their interactions, she’d definitely say this one was already going considerably better than the last. That was until her hand darted out across the table and snatched the notebook from Eddie.

“Absolutely not, reject Barbie. Give it back.”

The smile on her face was genuine this time. If Melanie had known that all it took to get a proper reaction from him was to steal his stuff, she would have done that last time.

“Why? Hiding your plans to overthrow the government? Or maybe it’s a secret love letter. I know, it must be the secret weapon to corrupting today’s teens.”

A look of horror crossed her face as she closed the notebook to display the hand-drawn hellfire club logo on the front, playing it up to Eddie as if she was a concerned parent.

“I’m serious. Give it back.”

“Don’t worry, Van Halen. I’m not going to mess up your storybook. If anything you should let me read it sometime. I’m sure it’s great if it’s anything like what you write for English.”

She carefully held the notebook out to him, Eddie taking it and almost immediately putting it in the chair next to him out of Melanie’s reach.

He didn’t understand her. She’d gone from being a complete stranger to treating him like they were best buds in a matter of two weeks. It was suspicious, to say the least, and he hadn’t quite worked out a reason yet other than her having some sort of psychotic episode.

In turn, Melanie couldn’t figure Eddie out. She invaded his table, twice, gave him what she could only assume was a slight panic attack, and stole his property and so far the worst thing he’d done was call her reject Barbie. She wasn’t sure what reaction she expected out of him really. Maybe for him to laugh her off and immediately get up and leave or maybe for him to try to embarrass her in front of everyone.

Truthfully, Eddie didn’t seem anything like the things she’d heard around school about him. Sure, he played dungeons and dragons, and yeah he had failed his senior year, but that didn’t necessarily make him a bad person. Not that in reality Melanie had ever thought Eddie was a bad person. If she had, she definitely wouldn’t have chose him to sit with.

Plus, no truly evil person would ever vividly describe wildflowers in an empty field and then willingly allow their classmates to read it during English class.

Both were quiet as Melanie pulled her lunch from her bag: a bologna sandwich, a bag of classic lays, and a dr. pepper. It took Melanie pushing the unopened can toward him after noticing his eyes catch on it for him to finally speak up.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Melanie wasn’t sure she’d ever heard something spoken so defensively sound so sad.

“Because everyone deserves to be treated nice.”

Eddie caught the ‘duh’ edge in her voice, but a because answer just didn’t sit right with him.

“No, I mean why are you being nice to me? We are exact opposites, good versus bad. The two aren’t supposed to interact.”

“Do you really view yourself as the bad?”

That was a psychological question and a ploy. Eddie was sure he’d heard something similar from Ms. Kelly in some of their forced talks where she’d wrangled him into her office. He could never bring himself to say no to her or bring himself to run out on their conversations.

Melanie took his silence as an answer.

“Fine then,” she took a bite of her sandwich and Eddie realized that her drink was still sitting on the table in front of him, Melanie making no move to get it back. “So what’s your favorite Black Sabbath song? Mine’s Iron Man. A little mainstream maybe, but god is it good.”

Eddie was a little too excited to talk to someone about his musical interests to stop himself, even if that someone was Melanie Meyers.

“Yeah it is. Right now mines gotta be-“ Eddie bit his tongue. Heaven and Hell felt a little too cliche to admit to at the moment. “-Children of the Grave.”

“Oh yeah! And Into the Void. Honestly, the whole Master of Reality album is pretty good.”

Eddie was a bit shocked when he realized that not only had she listed off another great song but that she knew they were both from the same album and that album’s name.

“How do you know so much about Black Sabbath? Aren’t you supposed to be listening to like ABBA or something?”

Melanie couldn’t help but feel offended.

“Of course you’d pick something as stereotypical as ABBA. Sorry, not all of us can wear our favorite bands across our backs.”

Melanie gave a nod toward Eddie’s jacket, the back patch of which was made out of a 70s Black Sabbath t-shirt. The rest of his jacket had been decorated in a variety of pins and patches, mostly of other metal bands. Of course he was a metalhead.

“I don’t know. I like them, but I don’t know if I’d consider them my favorite. And I just got a new Dio t-shirt that I’m thinking of changing out the back for. I’ve had the Black Sabbath one for a while now anyway.”

“Hm, well invite me over when you do. I might steal the Black Sabbath piece from you if you aren’t going to use it.”

Eddie couldn’t really tell if she was kidding or not. It was obvious to him by now that she definitely knew her music, but the idea of having Melanie over at his trailer made him nervous in a way he couldn’t explain and he could only imagine what his uncle would have to say about it. Still, the idea wasn’t a horrible one.

Melanie had kind of said it as a joke, but honestly, she wouldn’t mind spending time with Eddie either. He seemed harmless enough and she was enjoying talking with him. Plus, it was her senior year, and if the fact that she wasn’t planning on applying to college wasn’t enough to give the entire town of Hawkins an aneurism, she was sure befriending the town pariah would do it.

“Yeah, sure. If you actually mean that then meet me at my van after school. I’ll make sure to give it to you then.”

The bell rang, nearly in perfect timing with the end of their conversation.

Melanie was quick to grab her bag and with a fleeting goodbye, she was off to her history class.

The only thing remaining was the unopened dr. pepper can she left on the table in front of him.

Taglist: @eddiemunson4ever