#I can’t decide if satyrs even count as monsters

[mk-chimera]

The Horned Man

Male Satyr x Fem! Human

Series: 2nd person, extra-canon short stories

Part 1 of….

CW: Explicit, F/M, bondage (technically)

Your family property might be more of a ruin than anything now, decades past its prime with once-opulent stonework that now crumbles a bit more beneath every footstep and an implacable tide of ivy slowly picking away at the siding, but it still manages to surprise you now and again.

Granted, those surprises are often of the less than pleasant kind- leaking roofs, faulty plumbing, mice chewing through just the wrong wire in the jerry-rigged electrical system to knock out the power to the main house for the better part of a week- but still. Once in a while, the place gives you something really interesting.

One night in February, while clearing out the old greenhouse that was turned into a storage area by a relative before you were born, you find a faerie.

You’re the only one living here now, which means you’re the only one around to clean and keep things neat. It also means that if something happens on the property, it only gets noticed if you yourself happen to notice it- and there are a whole lot of buildings to keep an eye on. When you go into the greenhouse, it’s for the first time in months.

You’ve been thinking about emptying it out and cleaning it up for some time, but something else always seemed to take precedence. But tonight, inspiration- or something close to it- strikes, and you find yourself entering the greenhouse with a flashlight just after midnight.

There are boxes piled everywhere, many of them full of items older than you are. There’s a stockpile of outdated furniture in here as well, and you notice that the covers on some pieces have been removed since you last saw them. Someone has been in here.

That’s when you notice the man.

You shriek. So does he. You hold your flashlight like a weapon and shine it in his face, ready to tell him you played travel ball as a teen and he has three seconds to book it out of there before you start swinging.

That’s when you notice the curling horns sprouting from the man’s head. And something else- something much, much stranger. The lower half of the man’s body is gone.

You’ve been able to see the fae your whole life. Your mother and grandmother always told you that the family had a bit of the fae blood- not enough to do anything useful, just enough to let you see things others can’t. So this man isn’t the first satyr you’ve seen, nor is he anywhere near the oddest creature you’ve seen on your property. But he certainly is the first that you’ve seen merged with a tree.

The tree itself isn’t new; this side of the greenhouse had been built around it, allowing the centuries-old oak to remain as a testament to a time when the property had been one more nameless patch of old growth forest. But you’re absolutely certain that it hadn’t had a horned man attached to its roots the last time you saw it.

You’d remember that.

“What happened to you?” You ask.

He squints at you fearfully, head turned to the side in case you decide to blind him with the flashlight again. “You can see me?” He asks in surprise.

“You and the horns,” you say dryly. “Why are you in my greenhouse?”

He lets out a nervous little giggle. “Trust me,” he said. “This wasn’t my idea.”

The vines are growing over him, you realize; he is being overgrown with ivy just as the building is.

“How long have you been here?” You ask.

“Since the Winter Solstice,” he tells you.

You learn he ended up this way for angering another fae- he’d lost a bet to her and to teach him a lesson she’d stranded him here until she returned for the Summer Solstice. He wouldn’t get hungry or thirsty, or experience any harm- but he couldn’t leave, either.

You set the flashlight down with its light pointing upwards to give you both enough light to see by. He looks remarkably good for having been stuck here for two months. His amber eyes are clear as honey, and his long eyelashes are the same red-brown as his hair. He’s clean-shaven save for the little extra growth on his sideburns that traces the first few inches of his jawline- a telltale satyr feature, along with the curly hair and the furred ears that moved as he spoke.

And the horns, of course.

You try to move some of the vines away from him and your hand finds something warm and decidedly not plant based. You snatch your hand away and he shudders. He tells you that that is another part of the punishment- all of his limbs are within the tree, but neither his cock nor his sex drive has been touched by the curse.

Whoever had done this, she had known satyrs very well. This was a punishment that would work better than most on their kind. You wonder what he possibly could have done to deserve it- or if she just got off on the thought of him being stuck like this.

“Does that mean you haven’t come since Winter?” You ask, morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

His freckled cheeks redden. “No,” he says, glancing down at where his feet should have been.

He tells you that sometimes he gets so pent up and desperate that he manages to come without any contact- not as good as a true orgasm, of course, but a blessed relief from the constant pressure and need. You feel a corresponding throb in your own body.

You put your hand back on his cock and feel his hips move towards you the little bit they are permitted.

“Please,” he says, the bashfulness vanishing and being. replaced by wild, wanton need.

You can’t tell him no.

His cock is already slick with precome. You give him a slow stroke and he gasps, craning his head down to watch you touch him. His full lips form a pretty little circle as he watches your hand move.

You give him two more deliberate pumps- and he comes in your hand with a cry, spilling more come that you’ve ever seen in one go. He comes and comes, and when he’s finally done he lets out a ragged sigh. His cock doesn’t even soften in your hand- it just twitches and throbs, red and swollen in the low light.

“Thank you,” he says shakily. Then, “Can- can you do it again?”

You do. This time you don’t even make it to fifteen strokes before he’s coming again, swearing and writhing.

You’re going to have more fun with this project than you thought.

{Part 1 of …}

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 1|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 2k+

Warnings : Profanity, descriptions of mythological monsters, monster killings, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Felix and you have your first encounter - but why did it have to be under life threatening circumstances?

A/N : I’m so sorry this chapter took so long skskskkksks ugh I’ve been having some personal issues as well as midterms. For those of you who waited, thank you!

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"So.. you are not allowed to use cellphones because it attracts deadly monsters?"

"Yes," you snicker at Zeus, "No thanks to you, dad."

Zeus - the king of all gods on Mount Olympus, the god of sky and lightning - sits on the couch beside you in a simple striped shirt and loose baggy jeans, his long hair tied in a braid. He doesn't look anything like a Greek God or a king, he doesn't look grand or royal or powerful. He sits on your couch with his legs crossed, back slouched - like a normal father of a normal twenty one year old.

He rolls his eyes at you, "Yeah, yeah, blame it on your poor, old dad. " he's immortal, by the way.

You grab a cookie from the plate your mom had put on the coffee table before driving to work. You're kind of glad she's not here to see Zeus - your mom and Zeus didn't exactly part on good terms. Of all the times you'd met your father, she's not been there to witness any of it, fortunately.

"What do you want, dad? I'm sure you're not here to eat cookies and talk about mortal technology with me. "

Zeus nods, sighing. The distressed expression clawing it's way back to his face. "When are you going back to the camp?" He asks.

"I was about to leave before you decided to show up. "

"And with who exactly?"

"Oh, with Minho."

Zeus runs his fingers through his flowing beard, "The Dionysus kid?"

You nod - yes, Minho's father is the Greek God of Wine and fertility but your friend's never been much too proud of it. So you know better than to add to his insecurities, even behind his back.

"Dad, can you please tell me what you're here for?" You insist, now slightly annoyed.

"Ah, fine, fine," he nods, frowning like a little kid, "I actually need your help, y/n. I cannot ask this of anyone but my own child, which is why I have come here."

It's normal for God's to let their demigod children do the bidding on their behalf - it's nothing surprising or new, but you're taken aback since you're father has never asked you to do anything for him before.

Before you can reply, he continues, "It's Poseidon, y/n. He's...He's been sick."

Poseidon? Sick? Isn't he an immortal God? How could he ever fall sick!

"He can just drink some nectar and ambrosia and he'll be as good as new, dad." You deadpan.

"No, not this time. Poseidon's trident is lost. Someone stole it, apparently. And the trident holds in all his power. He's weak without it, and with him gone it's hard to control what goes on in the Oceans. The monsters and demons and even the Nymphs are out of control. "

"I would be very grateful if you could do something about it, y/n. Tell your camp director about it and go on a quest with your demigod friends. Find the trident, please. We need it back or else the mortals as well as the demigods will not be safe anymore. "

As if they'd ever been, "Okay, fine..I'll put in a word at camp."

Just before Zeus speaks again, you hear the loud honk of a car outside your house. Minho.

"I have to go now, " you quickly grab your bags, "And dad?"

He stops munching on the cookies to look at you. "Please clean this place up and go back before mom comes home."

He winks at you as you close the door behind you, jogging to Minho's old Hyundai that stands near the side of the street.

He waves at you enthusiastically and you almost feel bad for your friend.

Oh, Minho, you’re not going to be happy with the news I have.

*

Halfway into the drive, you realise that you're not the only who has news - Minho too had information to share - more like rantings, but you liked to classify them as information.

"I fought with my parents again. " he sighs, his eyes focused on the road ahead, "They don't want me going back to camp every year. It scares them, y/n, can you believe it!"

Minho - unlike you - had never met his birth mother. He was adopted right from the hospital. Sadly, Dionysus visits him more often than he wishes he would.

"They're just worried because you keep getting yourself in trouble there. Try to keep calm, you'll do just fine." You mutter, shaking your leg, your mind running through numerous possibilities as to how you can break Poseidon's news to Minho.

"Well that's not all. So I fought with them and came to camp a month earlier. While I was out with the annoying Satyr, scouting for demigods, I found three more washed up on the shore of the beach where we first met you. They'd been attacked apparently, and we brought them to the camp and guess what, the youngest one is as old as you are! It's so fascinating for once to not have to deal with unruly teenagers."

You scoff, "First of all, the annoying Satyr has a name. He is called Eden. And second of all, how is it possible for demigods our age to make it this long without living behind a protective barrier?"

Minho shrugs, taking a sharp right to the road that leads home to Camp Levanter. "Beats me, y/n. They must have lived like nomads without anyone to protect them from the monsters, but I'm glad we found them. You'll like them too. The other boys love them."

You nod, not giving too much thought to a bunch of new demigods. You've been with demigods all your life so there's nothing to worry about. What you are worried about is Poseidon and his lost trident, because no matter what, this new development does put all mortals and half-bloods at risk.

"Um, Minho?" You start, playing with hem of your checkered shirt, "I might actually know why the new demigods were attacked by a sea monster- "

However before you can speak out the next word, your eyes land on a huge blue wave of water, as tall as a ten floored building, engulfing everything within it's vicinity. You see mortals run in alarm, screaming and crying. The cars rush away, trying to escape to a safer place. The earth vibrates beneath you, as if to warn about an approaching danger.

"What the hell is that!"

"It's a sea monster... a Cetus."

Minho slams on the accelerator, speeding away from the approaching sea monster. The camp is only a two minute drive from the highway you are on so if the Gods are kind enough, the both of you might just make it before the monster catches your scent. 

And if it does, then Minho and you are as good as dead.

"Can you see it, y/n?" Minho asks you in an urgent voice, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, "Do you think you could create lightning and kill that thing?"

You make the mistake of looking behind you, because as soon as you turn around, you see a gigantic dragon- like creature chasing close behind your car, baring it's fangs. Your blood turns cold.

"Minho, drive faster! I think it has smelt us!" You yell in panic, "We're not enough to defeat a sea monster; even with your vine growing power and my electrokinesis."

Minho does as he is told, driving the car faster than the mortals do in their stupid car races, his hands tightly gripping the handle and handsome features twisted in agony. 

You roll down the window and glance outside, estimating how much time you have to summon lightning before the monster catches upto your car.

Sucking in a deep breath, you pray to your father for help and thrust out your hand towards the sky, and see small electrical impulses begin at your fingertips. Rolling the window further down so as to be able to aim the lightning directly at the monster, you concentrate all your energy into your right hand. 

The lightning may not kill it, but it’ll surely slow it down.

Electric sparks cover your entire arm like it were some kind of jewelry. 

A deep breath, and you release.

“Its hurt,” you whisper as the monster stops on its tracks, its googly eyes closing as if in immense pain and in a spilt second, they open and stare right at you. The monster is angry. At you.

“Shit! Shit! Y/n!” Minho panics.

"Keep driving." You reassure Minho, "I'll slow it down."

You see dirty green scales of the monster when you glance at the rear view mirror and your immediate reaction is to grab your bow and arrows from the backseat of the car.

Minho nods and you position yourself such that only your arrow is pointed directly at the monster's direction while you squint one eye and careful peek out without showing too much of your face. Monsters have very good memory.

The monster hisses, his long, red tongue rolling out of his mouth as if in annoyance. The mortals do not bother coming in between your car and the Cetus - all thanks to the Mist. 

The Mist creates an illusion that hides any supernatural beings like monsters or titans or giants from the mortal's sight so it is safe to believe that the mortals are perceiving the Cetus as something as simple as a huge storm.

"It's coming closer." You warn Minho.

"I can't go faster than this! Has no one from the camp received any news of a sea monster coming out of the water and roaming out in the streets yet?" He yells back.

You stretch the bow string, the arrow aimed right between the monster's two hideous eyes.

"Stop! Y/n!" Minho suddenly says, slowing down a bit, staring at the rear view mirror, "There's something on the monster's head."

His words seem to fade away in the background as you see the monster's tail - resembling that of a fish - flying up behind him, and then thrashing hard against the concrete road. The ground shakes.

"I'm shooting." you mutter, "It's going to kill us all!"

"Y/n, no - don't."

"What! Why?"

You loosen the string and pull back the arrow, trusting Minho's judgement better than yours.

"Just trust me, okay?" Minho mutters, slowly pulling up by the sidewalk.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you quickly glance out the window.

"What the.."

You catch sight of a blonde man, probably only as tall as Minho, standing on top of the monster's head and thrusting his shining bronze sword right into the Monster's forehead.

The man looks in your direction, as if he’s known you all along and nods, with what you perceive to be a smile on his lips.

"Shoot now, y/n." Minho says from beside you.

You immediately act on it, stretching the string tighter, the arrow pointed at the ugly monster that now cries desperately. You let go of the string and the arrow cuts through the air and stabs the Cetus right at his neck.

A loud, thundering wail leaves it's mouth and then it disappears into millions of dust particles, on it's way to the depths of Tartarus ; the underground prison of all monsters.

"That's Felix, y/n." Minho says, unlocking the doors with a slight grin on his face. He looks proud. "He's one of the new demigods at the camp."

The said man quickly jogs up to your car, panting and huffing, and knocks at your window.

"Hey, can I have a ride back home, Minho?" He smiles, "And you must be y/n, right?"

And you sink back into your seat as you see his entire form up close.

Beautiful. Ethereal. And every other synonym of those words in the English dictionary fall weak if it ever comes to describing the man standing in front of you.

You don't even need to ask who his godly parent is because you already know now - Aphrodite, goddess of love, lust and beauty.

****

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[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold I

Percy is a God: Part I

Masterlist for the next part and more of my stuff

Y’all already know what this is!!!!!!!! But if you don’t then click this to find out. And i hope you enjoy Percy as a god cause i definitely do ;) *shivers*

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We were warm and shivering,

and young and ancient,

and alive.

-We Were Liars, E. Lockhart

Time is non-existent anymore. Percy should be twenty this year but now that he has ichor flowing through his veins, he can be 102 or 5. He has done things Homer would write epic poems about. If he were around at the dawn of time Ovid would have happily dedicated the Metamorphoses to him. But today Percy Jackson has been a god for three years and he has never felt more mortal in his life.

“Percy my boy, what are you doing here?”

“Hello Father, Camp Half-Blood is throwing a campfire in my honour and I thought it’d be rude not to show my face.”

“Very noble of you son. I remember back in my day the Greeks–“

Percy zoned out, tired of hearing how people bowed down to all these stuffy Olympians. The camp threw a celebration every year on the day he got immortalized and in return he reinforced the borders and blessed every demigod before they leave at the end of summer. He doesn’t know if he’s doing a good job, he doesn’t even know if what he does is making a difference, but he doesn’t know how else to give back to the camp and the people that saved his life again and again; who loved him and fought next to him and oh gods followed him into battle.

He’s never had the chance to talk to Chiron, who’s always busy with this demi-god and that satyr, and this nymph. He barely gets the chance to talk to all his old friends– between the new campers wanting to hear his stories and the general chaos of end of summer camp-life. He thanked the powers that be–what a jarring thought that he was one of those powers now– that he managed to find days in-between to see Annabeth and Grover.

He smiled to himself as he remembered the last time he saw Annabeth. She had been moving into her own apartment to start her third year at the University of New Rome. To his unsurprised delight she had chosen archaeology as her major but somehow slipped Latin and Ancient Histories into her schedule. He had helped carry bags and bags filled with books up to her room and they spent the day setting her up and making sure everything was in its place before she started the year.

Their relationship had progressed so softly, so slowly, Percy sometimes felt like he had imagined the year they had as a romantic couple. After he became a god they managed to go on a few dates, some interrupted by hothead immortals and revengeful monsters, and some blissfully alone. But once Annabeth started university and Percy was called again and again to help with this problem and that, it became a hassle to set up dates and figure out when to meet. They didn’t grow apart, so much as grow between. And although he missed the softness of Annabeth, he had gained a friend who knew him more deeply than any being alive– he was eternally grateful for that, and he couldn’t hate what they lost out on.

“Son, are you listening?” Poseidon pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes father, it really was a great time for you. I have to go now, but Iris message if you need me.” And without waiting for a reply Percy strode out of Olympus and into the streets below.

He considered snagging a car but decided against it, since you couldn’t very well drive into Camp Half-Blood. Instead he walked into the ocean and let the current take him all the way to Long-Island, till he could smell the strawberries on the ocean wind and hear the echoes of camp games and reedpipes.

He stepped onto the beach, loving the soft sinking impressions he made in the sand. After his blood turned gold he realized he could walk on the sand and make no footprints whatsoever. The idea scared him so much he sunk under water and cried for three hours. How could he leave nothing behind? How could he have no imprint? It was Tyson, riding on his rainbow hippocampi who found him and showed him how to balance his weight; showed him how to step into the sand and not on it. When his footprints reappeared once more, he hugged his brother so hard if Tyson weren’t a cyclops his ribs might have cracked.

So Percy walked up the beach and through the strawberry fields, taking the time to breathe in the forest air, the fruit breezes, and ah the smell of chaos.

“JACKSON!” Connor Stoll yelled.

And with that single announcement Percy was home.

The day was spent in good spirits: racing with various campers up the wall and avoiding every deadly thing it spat at you– even if he couldn’t really die; then eating in the dining hall and getting to travel between tables without getting glares from various houses or Chiron; laughing as all the food turned blue just for him.

When it was time Percy walked with some of his friends; Clarisse who grew to be a steady, if raging fire, by his side, and Connor Stoll who is now the oldest of the Hermes kids since Travis left for college, and of course Will who above everyone reserves the right to make sure his friends were protected.

In a moment of vulnerability, he broke down on Percy’s immortal shoulder and wept. I don’t want to bury anymore of my friends Percy. I don’t want to be tending to them as they die in my infirmary. I can’t do it anymore. For him, Percy double, sometimes in moments of obsessiveness, triple checked his border defenses.

Now the little group walks around the perimeter of the camp and talks softly and contentedly as Percy knocks against the shimmering force, leaking power into the hollow spots.

“How is everyone at camp?” He asked.

“Fine, nothing has changed much. Ever since the Giant War it feels as if everything has calmed down to a lull. I’m wary it’s the eye before the storm but gods-dammit we deserve a break.” Connor answered.

Percy hid the rage of that truth but let the ache of those words settle in his bones. He simply nodded at Connor and turned to Clarisse.

“Are there any new campers who need to be protected?”

“Only a few, a lot have moved to New Rome over the last years.” There was a bitter edge to her words, caused by the sting of loss.

“You cannot blame them for wanting a life that is not concentrated to three months of safety.”

“I know,” Her nostrils flared, she kicked the rock in front of her. “I know. It just sucks that there’s so few of us now.”

“Maybe we can see about hosting annual games at each camp over the summer?” He suggested, careful to not step where the cracks spidered underneath him– even if the labyrinth had collapsed there was still the chance something tunneled beneath.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Will piped up, “Maybe then I can convince Nico to stay for more than one week.” He rolled his eyes, but the glimmer of happiness in them gave away his annoyed pretense.

“I will talk to the Praetors over there and let you know.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

They turned to face him.

He stared at them for a moment, studying their faces. Even now, all these years later it was jarring to see the signs of growth in their make-ups. He couldn’t say aging, they were barely hitting their twenties, gods Will was still a teenager, albeit not for much longer; but it was weird to watch as they grew up, watch as time changed their features, changed them.

Clarisse, who used to be a spitfire of rage and fierce protectiveness was now, more a well-kept hearth. She was still full of flame, but it was contained, and her fierce was warm instead of scorching.

And Connor, who had been attached to his brother at the hip, was all grown up. Travis was three years into a degree and Connor, although a prospective honours student, had forfeited college until he could figure out what he wanted to do. He was the sole head of the Hermes cabin, but somehow, he kept up the mischief as if the two were still together. The shenanigans are some of Percy’s favourites to hear around the campfire.

And Will, who is dating Nico di Angelo. The two were often running between the camps, though Nico more than the child of Apollo. It was Will, Percy thought, who brought the camp together, more than anyone. And Will, who in the process had lost the most. For him, Percy would continue to be here every year, would continue to help if they called when they were in trouble. Because he too was tired of seeing his friends die. Tired of seeing his friends mourn.

“It’s almost time for me to go but I wanted to say,” He fought to choke back the rising wave of emotions, “I wanted to say thank you. For keeping my home safe. And thank you for being my friends.”

Their hug lasted many moments, ribbons of friendship passing between them. And when Percy walked back into the sea, he was glad no-one could tell the difference between tears and ocean.

Friends, the word echoed in his head. So few and far between since he became a God. It was not that people feared him, they just became… wary. They fell into that space in-between, where one wrong move could plunge them into fear. When he first turned divine, he counted on his fingers how many friends he had, and if he didn’t have enough digits, he deemed it a good day. Now he can count with aching clarity all the people who loved him, and still have fingers to spare.

Annabeth asked him once if he regretted taking up Zeus’ offer, if he regretted turning his red blood gold.

He hadn’t answered her till three weeks later, over a three am phone call.

I don’t regret it, he had said, because I know I can help this way. I know I can protect my family and friends better this way. And when the phone had gone dark, he had whispered into the void of his room– an alcove of coral far, far, far underwater– I don’t regret it, but I’m so lonely. The tears at that admission did not stop flowing for many hours.

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@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere

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How are you feeling?? Cause i got 6K words for this fic and i don’t see myself stopping any time soon. Give me your thoughts young ones!!!!

[enigma-im]

He Was a Satyr Boy

 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters

Word Count: 8604

A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl

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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.

Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.

I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.

"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.

"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.

He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.

"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.

"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.

I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.

I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?

I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.

"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.

"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.

"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.

"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.

I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.

I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.

"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.

I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.

"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.

"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.

"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.

"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.

"Critical role?" I cock a brow.

He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"

I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.

"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.

I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."

I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.

It is a surprise when he shows up next week.

The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.

Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"

 my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.

"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.

"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.

"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.

"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.

"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.

"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.

"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.

"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.

I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.

"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.

"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.

The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.

Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.

He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.

"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.

"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?" 

"Yes," I nod.

"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."

"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.

We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.

He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.

"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.

"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.

He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.

"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.

"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.

"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.

Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.

Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.

"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.

Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."

"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.

Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.

I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.

"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.

I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.

I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.

"Hi," I say back.

"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.

"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.

"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.

"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.

"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.

"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.

The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.

The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.

"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.

I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"

He startles, "What?"

"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.

"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.

"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.

He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."

 I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"

"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."

I smile," No I don't think I do know."

"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.

"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.

"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."

I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.

The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.

I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.

The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.

We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.

We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.

One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.

As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.

We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.

His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.

He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.

Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.

"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.

Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.

He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.

Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.

He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.

When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.

I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.

Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.

Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.

I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.

He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.

Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.

We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while. 

I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.

"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.

He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.

Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.

"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.

"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.

"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.

His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.

I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.

I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.

I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.

"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.

"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.

He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring."  he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.

I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.

"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.

I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.

He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.

We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.

I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.

Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.

"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.

Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.

We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.

I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.

My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.

"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.

I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.

"Thank you," he still huffs.

"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.

"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.

"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."

"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.

"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."

"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.

"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.

"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.

"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."

"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.

"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.

"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.

"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.

"No. Do you?"

"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"

"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.

On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.

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[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 12

I love this series okay?! Leave me alone!

Warnings: Fluff/angst?

Rating: SFW

(pouty Sora is my new favorite thing)

You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy had arrived in Olympus Coliseum. The four of you entered the Coliseum Gates, where two giant golden statues of gladiators clashing swords stood around the entrance. The four of you walked across the grounds and entered the Coliseum. Walking into the dim lobby, the cracks in the stone visible underfoot, a satyr was putting up a sign on the wall near an entrance. A “closed” sign was tied in the dark doorway and a large pedestal was placed against a wall near a lit torch. You and Sora walked up to the busy-looking satyr. 

“Um...” you said. 

“Good timing. Give me a hand, will ya? Move that pedestal over there for me,” the satyr said, not looking at you two and pointed to  the pedestal, still facing the sign on the wall. 

“I gotta spruce this place up for the game,” he said. You, Sora, Donald and Goofy walked over to the pedestal and attempted to move it, but it didn’t budge. 

“It weighs a ton!” Sora said. The four of you went to go talk to the satyr again.

“It’s way too heavy!” Sora said. 

 “What? Too heavy? Since when have you been such a little—” the satyr said as he turned around, expecting to see someone much taller. He looked down at you and Sora. 

“Oh. Wrong guy. What’re you doing here?” he said as he hopped down to your level and gaited toward Donald, who backed away. 

“This here’s the world-famous Coliseum—heroes only! And I got my hands full preparing for the games. So run along, pip-squeaks,” he said. Sora pouted and the satyr put his hands on his hips. 

“Look, it’s like this,” Phil said as he paced around. “Heroes are coming from all over to fight ferocious monsters right here in the Coliseum.”

“You’ve got heroes standing right in front of you,” Donald said as he crossed his arms. Goofy placed his hands on you and Sora’s shoulders, and the two of smiled. 

“Yup. He’s a real hero chosen by the Keyblade! And she has the power of a spirit!” Goofy said. 

“And we’re heroes, too,” Donald said, pointing to himself.

“Heroes? Those runts?” Phil asked shocked. He laughed loudly, slapping his large belly. 

“What’s so funny? We’ve fought a bunch of monsters!” you said. 

“Hey, if you can’t even move this...” Phil said as he attempted to push the pedestal forward, making no progress. 

“You can’t call yourself...” He tried pushing with his back against it, his hooves slipping on the floor. Sora crossed his arms sternly.

“A hero!” He wore himself out and sat on the ground, trying to catch his breath. 

“Okay, so it takes more than brawn,” Phil said as he stood back up. 

“Well, well, let’s see what you can do. This trial is tough. You got what it takes? You ready?” he asked. 

“I’m ready!” Sora said. 

“Me too!” you said. 

“Okay, kids. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Phil said. You and the others entered the Coliseum, where several piles of barrels were set up around the arena. 

“The rules are simple: Bust all the barrels within the time limit. Ready? Go!” Phil said. You and Sora took down all the barrels with seconds to spare. 

“Not bad! For beginners, that is,” Phil said. You and Sora blasted through a harder course. 

“Hey, you’re better than I thought!” Phil said. You and Sora soon returned back into the lobby. 

“You know, you two ain’t bad,” Phil said. Sora scratched his head, chuckling while you smiled brightly. 

“Looks like we’re headed for the games,” Sora said as he puts his hands behind his head, smiling. 

“Afraid not,” Phil said. 

“Why not?” you asked surprised. 

“Two words: You guys ain’t heroes.” Goofy counted the words on his fingers and became confused. 

“Come on!” Sora whined. 

“Wanna become real heroes? Start by mastering this spell,” Phil said as he gave you four the Thunder spell and you walked outside, stopping when you four heard a voice. 

“Rather a stubborn old goat, wouldn’t you say?” he said. 

“Who are you?” Donald asked. 

“Whoa, hold on there, fuzz boy. Wait, let me guess. You want to enter the games, right?” He walked over to you four, the blue flame dancing on his head. He stood behind you and Sora, placing his long-fingered hand on you and Sora’s shoulder. 

“Well, then, hey, get a load of this,” he said. A piece of papyrus appeared in your hand, much to you and Sora’s surprise. 

“A pass?” Sora asked. 

“It’s all yours,” Hades said. He started to leave after giving you two the Entry Pass. 

“Good luck, kiddos. I’m pulling for you, little shorties,” he said. The four of you ran back inside and talked to Phil, giving him the Entry Pass. 

“Hey, how’d you get this?” Phil asked. 

“Can we enter the games now?” you asked. 

“Well... I guess so. We start with the preliminaries! Some real weirdos signed up for the games. Better watch yourself.” You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy fought through the starting matches of the preliminaries. Afterward, you talked to Phil in the Coliseum. 

“You’re no heroes yet, but you ain’t doing bad. Lucky you came to me for coaching,” Phil said. He stroked his goatee as a soldier entered the arena. You and Sora stared at him and he stared back through spiky blond hair, his long red cape flying behind him, boots digging into the ground.

“Something tells me he’ll be a tough one to beat. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up facing him,” Phil said. You and the trio fought through more matches and spoke with Phil.

“Say, you’re better than I thought, kiddos! Wish he was here to see this,” he said. 

“Who?” you asked. 

“Hercules. He’s a hero if ever there was one. Too bad he’s off visiting his father.” You and the trio fought through more of the preliminaries and celebrated while Hades watched from the barracks. 

“Those little punks is your next opponent, okay?” he said. The blond soldier leaned against the wall next to him. 

“Now, don’t blow it. Just take them out. Specifically the girl. She’s a got a power that is very interesting to me,” Hades said.  

“The great god of the Underworld is afraid of a kid? Sorry, but my contract says—” Cloud said. 

“I know! You think I don’t know? I wrote the contract! I know it says you’re only required to kill Hercules in this tournament. But you’ve gotta fight that kid to get to him. Come on,” Hades snapped as he pointed to you and Sora, who was talking to Phil and scratching his head. 

“Hey, it’s like that old goat says: Rule 11: It’s all just a game, so let loose and have fun with it!” Hades said as he punched the air. “I mean, a casualty along the way is no big deal, right?” He smiled and Cloud stood up and walked away. 

“Geez. Stiffer than the stiffs back home. Still, suckers like him are hard to come by...” Hades said. In the darkness behind him, a large creature snarled. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy finished the preliminaries and entered the final match against Cloud. Sora attacks with his Keyblade, while Goofy moves in with his shield and you with your dagger and your powers. Cloud swung his giant sword and knocked the three of you back. 

“That’s the best you can do?” Cloud asked. Sora slid forward and struck, but he dodged backward and jumped into the air. Cloud slammed his sword into the ground with unnatural strength, knocking out Donald. Giving a loud yell, Cloud surged forward and struck, knocking Goofy out before he can heal Donald. You did your best against Cloud, but being a recruit of SOLDIER, his experience was unmatched, and he knocked the wind out of you. He walked over to a kneeling You, Sora, Donald and Goofy unconscious around them, and he peered down at the you. Phil ran in with a white towel, but Hades stopped him. Cloud raised his sword and you closed his eyes, bracing yourself. Cloud lowered his sword to your surprise, and you heard footsteps behind you, turning just as a giant black claw crashed down on you. You and Sora looked up to see an enormous three-headed beast with red eyes growling over you two. Darkness emanated from its jaws, each of its razor sharp teeth bared. Sora gasped as Hades retreated into the barracks. 

“Oh, right, there was one other rule I forgot: Accidents happen,” he said. The beast moved in to attack you and Sora, but was pushed back by an incredibly strong man. 

“Herc!” Phil said. Hercules held back the monster, shouting to Phil.

“Phil, get them out of here!” he said. The five of you raced out of the Coliseum. 

“Whew, that was close! That was Cerberus, the guardian of the Underworld. Herc should be able to handle him. But then again, maybe not... This doesn’t look good. I hope Herc’s okay. Wish I could go in!” Phil said. You and Sora started to run back into the Coliseum.

“Kids, you’re not entering the arena, are ya? This ain’t just some match. This is for real!” Phil said. 

“I’m not afraid. You can decide if I’m hero material or not,” you said. 

“Me neither,” Sora said. 

“Careful, kids!” Phil said. Sora and company reentered the Coliseum arena, where Hercules had Cloud slung over his shoulder, Cerberus’s giant jaws bearing down on him, inches away. The beast’s ears perked up, hearing your entrance and you turn around, allowing Hercules to run Cloud to the Lobby, past Phil. 

“Kids, I got two words of advice for you: Attack!“ Phil said. Cerberus roared and stomped around the arena, sending large fireballs at you, Sora, Donald, and Goofy. Sora managed to stay out of the beast’s path, Donald sending Thunder spells at its three heads and you throwing your dagger at the beast. One of the fireballs headed Sora’s way, and he deflected it with his Keyblade, hitting the center head square in the eyes. The beast stopped, roaring, and attempted to bite him as he attacks. Backing up, Cerberus reared up on its hind legs, and dropped to the ground, sending a shockwave to the trio. You healed Sora with a Potion as the beast’s mouth foamed with dark energy. It moved forward sending dark matter spewing out of its mouth and into the ground. Sora rolled to dodge as the energy pooled and shot up from under him. Goofy, finding a way on top of the beast, sent his shield flying at the multiple heads. Sora moved in as it tried to bite at Goofy and knocked out the beast, which fell to the ground loudly. Later, Hercules and Phil were addressing you, Sora, Donald, and Goofy in the Lobby. Phil read from a piece of papyrus as Hercules stood with his arms crossed. 

“Thus, I do hereby dub thee junior heroes, and confer upon thee full rights and privileges to participate in the games. Further—” Phil said. 

“Hey! What do you mean ‘junior heroes’?” Donald interrupted. 

“You rookies still don’t understand what it takes to be a true hero.” 

“So, what does it take?” Goofy asked. 

“Well, that’s just something you’ll have to find out for yourselves. Just the way that I did,” Hercules said as he smiled. 

“No problem. We’ll start by proving ourselves in the games,” you said. You and Sora smiled, him lifting a fist proudly. 

“There ain’t gonna be any games for a while,” Phil said as he motioned to the “closed” sign over the arena entrance. 

“Gotta clean up the mess from that last battle first,” he said. 

“Okay, we’ll be back,” Sora said. He waved, and the four of you leave as Hercules waved goodbye and Phil stroked his beard. 

“I still can’t believe that squirt actually beat Cerberus,” Phil said. 

“Just between us, I’d already worn Cerberus down by the time the little guy jumped in,” Herc said. 

“My lips are sealed.” At the Coliseum Gates, you saw Cloud sitting near the exit and you and Sora walked up to him. 

“Hey, are you alright?” you asked. Cloud looked up to see you.

“Yeah,” he said. 

“So why did you go along with him, anyway?” Sora asked. Cloud leaned his head pensively on his hands. 

“I’m looking for someone. Hades promised to help. I tried to exploit the power of darkness, but it backfired,” he said. He stood up and looked to the sky. 

“I fell into darkness, and I couldn’t find the light,” he said. 

“You’ll find it. We’re searching, too,” you said. Cloud looked back at you and Sora. 

“For your light?” he asked. You and Sora nodded and Cloud moved closer to you two, placing something in Sora’s hand. 

“Don’t lose sight of it,” he said. He started to walk away, and Sora nods and you looked in his hand. 

“How about a rematch sometime? Fair and square, no dark powers involved,” Sora said. He moved toward Cloud, waving his hand in the air. Cloud turned his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“I think I’ll pass,” he said. Despite this answer, You and Sora smiled as Cloud leaves. With Sonic Blade in hand, You and Sora exited the Coliseum, the doors slamming behind them. Later that night, Hades stood in the Coliseum Gates, fuming. He held a Hercules statue in his hand. 

“He’s strong, he’s kind,” he said. The statue flexed his muscles. 

“He’s always there for you, and he’s handsome to boot,” he said. The statue crossed his arms and winked. 

“He’s perfect. Perfect. Perfectly infuriating! He makes me crazy,” he said. Hades turned red, roasting the statue. The hair on his head blazing hot, he exploded in a burst of flames. As the smoke settled around him, he caught his breath and returned to his cool blue shade. 

“Wait a minute. What are you worried about? All the pieces are in place. Relax. Here’s what you do. Let Hercules train the kids. In the next games, I’ll take care of them,” he said. He made a fist as the horned witch appeared behind him, her staff held firmly in her hands. 

“Who invited you to the party? Stay out of this. This is my show,” he said. 

“As you wish. Fight to your heart’s content,” she said. Hades smirked, nodding, before noting the witch’s tone, and scowling as she disappeared.

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Rogue Demigod - Chapter One

Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians

Pairing: Annabeth Chase x Percy Jackson

Summary: Two years after Luke Castellan's demigod rebellion was ruthlessly crushed by the Olympians, Annabeth realizes that a string of attacks against minor gods across the country might be the actions of another half-blood. Determined to not let history repeat itself, she leaves camp to meet them. Au where Percy never went to Camp Halfblood.

Word Count: 3.5k | 1/?

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

As Annabeth walked into Chiron’s office in the Big House, she noticed the shimmering remnant of an Iris message. Behind the glimpses of rainbow that hung in the air, Chiron’s face was grim.

“Another attack?” she asked.

Chiron nodded wearily. “A minor god in Texas, not far from Houston. Tyche, goddess of luck, destiny, and fortune.”

“Did she see what attacked her?” Annabeth sat down on the edge of Chiron’s desk.

He shook his head. “Same as the others. A sudden deluge of water, which got her off-guard as well as temporarily blinding her. But she swears whatever it was had a celestial bronze weapon.”

“Maybe it’s not a monster,” Annabeth suggested, putting a pin in Houston on a map already covered in pins.

“What else would it be?” Chiron asked. “All the Titans were accounted for, as well as the other minor gods and goddesses. Besides, they would have been able to do a lot more damage. Tyche was shaken and a bit injured, but not severely. It is entirely possible that a monster happened to have a celestial bronze weapon that it got from a previous fight.”

Annabeth stared at the map, unconvinced. There was something weird about this.

“With camp starting up again this week, we’ll be able to send out a quest,” Chiron said. “Then we will know more about this, and hopefully be done with it. The gods are growing impatient with our inaction.”

Annabeth frowned. “And of course they can’t do anything about it,” she muttered.

Chiron looked at her reproachingly.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, then sighed. “So, who are you going to send?”

“Not you, Annabeth,” Chiron said, kindly but firmly. “You know the gods wouldn’t approve of you going, and besides, I need you here.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean me,” Annabeth said. “I was just curious. If this thing can take on minor gods, we need to send someone who can handle it.”

Chiron nodded. “I’ll ask for volunteers and choose from them.” He watched as Annabeth continued to look at the map. “Can I have your word that you’ll focus on getting the camp up and running and not on this?”

Pulled out of her thoughts, Annabeth quickly turned away from the map. “Of course,” and she quickly left the room.

Something about this was nagging at her though. There was something odd about this case.

Back in the Athena cabin, she pulled up the local news for Houston on her laptop. The main story was of a freak wave on the coast – the attack on Tyche. But further down, there was a story about a large, burly man rampaging in a bar before being pulled out into an alley by someone no one saw and disappearing leaving signs of a struggle. The description was how Annabeth imagined mortals would see a minotaur through the Mist.

These two events happened not an hour apart, and Annabeth could not help but wonder if it was the same thing that was involved in both. But she had never heard of monsters attacking each other.

There was only one logical conclusion here, and as Annabeth investigated previous attacks, it became clearer and clearer, but she did not want to think about it.

The attacks on both minor deities and monsters, seemingly indiscriminately. The fact that it never pursued or even attacked demigods. The celestial bronze weapon.

Annabeth closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair and wondered if maybe she was reading too much into it.

The first week of camp was a flurry of activity. Campers arrived, old and new. Annabeth helped to show them around and did not have a lot of time for her own research.

Thalia arrived at the end of the first week. While Annabeth had decided to hold off on college for a year, Thalia had gone last year.

She hugged Annabeth tightly. When she pulled back, she smiled. “How have you been?”

Annabeth’s relationship with Thalia was a bit odd. Although they were now kind of the same age, they had not always been. When they met, Thalia was five years older than Annabeth, but now, due to some magical shenanigans involving a pine tree and the Golden Fleece, they were basically the same age. Nonetheless, Thalia still felt the need to protect her.

“I’m alright,” Annabeth said. “Keeping busy.”

Thalia nodded. “Me too.”

“I actually need your perspective on something. A… research project I’ve been working on.”

Thalia rolled her eyes, smiling, “Of course you would do a research project for fun. I’m forced to do that shit for classes.”

“Don’t swear around the younger campers,” Annabeth said absentmindedly as they headed to the Athena cabin.

In the cabin, campers were unpacking. They all nodded hello as she and Thalia entered. A few stole glances at Thalia in particular. In addition to having once been a tree, she was one of the only two children of the Big Three gods – Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.

She and Annabeth had also been close to Luke Castellan. Before.

As they approached Annabeth’s bunk, Thalia spotted her bulletin board with a map of the US with the pins of the attacks. Thread connected them in chronological order and cut-out headlines pinned alongside them.

“Wow,” Thalia said. “and I thought you didn’t like conspiracy theories.”

Annabeth frowned. “It’s the attacks,” she lowered her voice so that the other campers could not hear. “They’ve been happening all year, more frequently lately.”

“I’m sure Chiron’s got a handle on it,” Thalia said. “Why do you need me?”

“Chiron thinks it’s a monster and is going to send out a quest to kill it.”

“But you’re not so sure.”

“Exactly.” Annabeth pointed to one of the pins and the headlines pinned near it “April fourth, attack on a group of satyrs in Sacramento. Two days later, an empousa was killed in Concord, which is on the way to San Francisco, where to next attack happened.”

“And monsters don’t generally kill each other. They’re attracted to demigods.” Thalia sighed. “Annabeth, if Chiron thought it was a demigod, don’t you think he’d be handling the situation differently?”

“I didn’t tell him what I thought, because he wouldn’t believe me.”

Thalia studied to board again. “If it was a demigod – and I’m not saying I think it is – why would they be attacking minor gods and satyrs?”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows meaningfully and Thalia sighed again.

“Annabeth, this is why I thought you should go to college too, and not stay cooped up at camp. You need to move on, not try to find a second chance at saving Luke.”

They had not said the name in months, but Annabeth never went a day without thinking about him. “It’s not that –”

“Yes, it is,” Thalia said. “We couldn’t save him and now you think you see someone like him, someone you can try to save.” She put her hands on Annabeth’s shoulders. “We need to let him go.” Annabeth could see the pain in Thalia’s eyes. Luke had meant as much to Thalia as he had to her.

“Chiron’s right,” Thalia said. “It’s just a monster.” She smiled again. “I’ll see you at the campfire.”

When Thalia left the cabin, Annabeth noticed that a lot of her siblings were glancing at her cautiously. She quickly straightened her shoulders and took a breath. She was the head counsellor of the Athena cabin and basically Chiron’s assistant, she had to at least look like she was keeping it together.

She looked back at the board. One thing she hated was feelings clouding judgement. It made plans and conclusions unsound and unreliable. She always tried to approach problems with an unbiased eye. Hadn’t she done that here?

She had not suspected the attack was a demigod until she had looked into it. After that, every new piece of information seemed to fit into place. Nothing else made sense.

Because she had tried other explanations. Whatever Thalia thought, the last thing Annabeth wanted was a demigod attacking gods. She did not want to have t deal with that, much less try to save whoever it was.

If there was one thing Annabeth was confident in, it was her ability to research and come to logical conclusions. She knew she was right.

She just had to convince someone of it.

As the sun started to set, Annabeth made her way across the strawberry fields. At the far end, nestled between some trees, was a small cottage.

She knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” a voice called from inside.

“Grover, it’s me, Annabeth!”

Annabeth heard the various locks click open before the door opened. Grover looked tired, as he always did these days. “Hey, Annabeth.”

She smiled as she stepped inside. “How’ve you been, Grover?”

“I’ve been alright,” he said. “It’s nice to hear all the campers around again. It gets so quiet during the school year.”

The cabin was small, just one room, with a bed in one corner and a couple of lazy chairs in the other. A cabinet of cans stood at the far wall.

Annabeth sank into a chair. “I saw Thalia earlier. Has she been by yet?”

Grover nodded. “Briefly.”

“I’m sure we can all catch up at the campfire tonight,” Annabeth said hopefully.

“Oh, I don’t – I wasn’t planning on going,” Grover said.

Even though she wanted to, Annabeth knew better than to pressure him. “Grover, I need your expertise on something.”

“My expertise?” Grover asked incredulously.

“Yes, as a Searcher.”

“And a great Searcher I was,” Grover muttered.

“Come on, what do we keep saying about the negative self-talk.” Annabeth sighed. “I think I may have found a demigod, but I’m not sure. You have the instincts for this.”

Grover sighed. “Okay, how can I help?”

Annabeth pulled out her laptop and showed him the digitalized version of the bulletin board. It would be more efficient to have it digitalized and not physically, but Annabeth liked to think with her hands.

“These are the monster attacks,” Grover said cautiously.

“Yeah, but not just on gods and nature spirits. I found attacks on monsters that fit into the timeline.”

As Grover surveyed the connecting headlines, Annabeth saw the realization cross his face. He immediately stepped back. “No.”

“What?”

“I am not getting involved in this.”

“Come on, Grover, I just need your help to convince Chiron, so he doesn’t send a quest to kill the person doing this.”

“Annabeth,” Grover said. “This is a demigod attacking minor gods. If the gods got wind of this…? It’s the last thing we need; repairing our reputation is hard enough as it is without there being a demigod fighting gods.” His voice rose to a bleat at the end.

Annabeth put a hand on Grover’s arm. “I know this brings up a lot for you, it does for me too, but maybe we can help this person – it’s just one person.”

“Luke was just one person too, and he led hundreds of demigods against Olympus.”

They were both quiet for a good moment. Annabeth closed her laptop and stood up slowly. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” Grover said, grabbing a can and nibbling it nervously. “Later.”

As Annabeth closed the door behind her, she sighed. She had known that Grover would not be happy to hear it, but at least he did believe her. Maybe with more time, he would back her up to Chiron.

But she didn´t have time. She suspected that Chiron would call for volunteers at the campfire tonight.

Annabeth made her way down to the campfire early that evening, hoping to talk to Chiron before too many campers got there.

Chiron stood talking to a few satyrs who had recently brought in new campers / probably asking if their changes seemed particularly promising. He saw her coming down the earthen steps that doubled as seats around the fire pit and quickly finished his conversation.

“Annabeth,” he said. “I actually wanted to talk to you about the attacks.”

“Don’t worry, I ‘m sending out a quest, they’ll be on their way by morning.”

“But that’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Annabeth took a breath. “I don’t think it’s a monster. I think it’s a demigod.”

“What?”

“I did research – in my free time – that I can show you.” She could see that Chiron was wholly unconvinced. “Grover thinks so too.”

“Grover is hardly a reliable source.” There was an exasperated edge to his voice.

Annabeth huffed. “Grover was one of our best Searchers.”

“Exactly: was. He has not left the camp in over a year and a half! I care about Grover, but I couldn’t be surprised if his instincts have dulled a bit.”

“Come on, Chiron. Surely you see there’s something weird going on.” Annabeth looked at him imploringly, but he did not budge.

“I’m sending out a quest. That’s final.” Chiron turned and made his way to his regular spot on the far end of the fire pit.

Annabeth sighed. This was really not going how she had planned. She had hoped that this summer would be the one everything would go back to normal. The camp had been her home since she was seven and she hated how it had changed.

There were still traces of the battle that had taken place two years ago. Burn marks on buildings that Annabeth had been working to slowly get fixed. New scars on basically every camper. And so many empty bunks. The missing kids were not all reflected on the Wall either.

The Wall of Valor was in the Big House and was engraved with all the names of the demigods who died in battle. But only those fighting for the gods – rebels did not count, so they were left off and did not receive pyre burnings.

Annabeth had tried to argue for their names being included, of course, but had not been successful. She had argued unsuccessfully for a lot of things in the aftermath.

She remembered standing in the throne room of Olympus, the gods and goddesses towering above her. Trying to stand tall, she spoke as loudly and confidently as she could muster. “We request that the gods and goddesses claim their children within a reasonable time – at thirteen or fourteen, for example. Many of the rebels –”

“Traitors,” Hera spat.

“Traitors,” Annabeth amended quickly. “Many of the traitors were unclaimed and felt forgotten and neglected. Claiming them could prevent this from happening again.”

“So, you’re blaming us for this?” Zeus asked.

“No, of course not, Lord Zeus,” Annabeth said. “I’m just saying, there were contributing factors that could be eliminated to lessen the chance of this happening again.”

“This is absurd,” Hera said. “Your camp rises up against us and now you are making demands?”

“Not our whole camp,” Annabeth said, trying to keep her voice calm. “We fought against them – for you.”

“You were a close friend of this Luke fellow, weren’t you?” Demeter asked.

Annabeth turned to her. “Yes, we were close.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

She blinked. “I – I didn’t know until it was too late.”

Annabeth pulled herself out of the memory and sat down shakily. It had been a lie. She had known – at least that something was going on.

Other campers had started to filter in, and Annabeth quickly turned Thalia and they sat together. She did not pay much attention as the Hephaestus kids started the fire and the Apollo kids started up the sing-along.

Food was served and Annabeth ate silently, staring into the fire. She could see no way to convince Chiron or anyone of authority. And she could not go to any god with her theory, they would strike the rogue half-blood dead first and ask questions later. Annabeth wanted to help them.

Maybe Thalia was right. Maybe this was just a second chance for her. But that did not mean that it was not true. Whatever her motivations were, she wanted to help.

An old plan from years ago began to reform in her mind. Back before she went on her quest two years ago, she had been very impatient to leave camp. At one point, she had gotten the idea in her head that Chiron would never let her go and that she would have to do it herself. The main tenets of that plan could still work.

Annabeth looked around. If she left tonight, she would have a head start. And besides, she knew about this person’s movements and habits. For one thing, they tended to travel up to New York every couple of months and were due for another visit soon.

Across the fire pit, Chiron rose. “Good evening everyone. I trust you have all had a good week back. A special welcome to all the newcomers. We hope you come to see this place as a home away from home, as many here do.” He smiled warmly. “Now, as I am sure many of you have heard, there have been a large number of monster attacks all over the country over the past year. We believe they are all the work of one creature. These attacks have escalated in recent months and therefore, I am sending out a quest.”

Whispers erupted among the campers and the enchanted flames jumped green and yellow, reflecting their excitement. There had not been any quests last year.

“We do not know what kind of creature this is, so this quest is not for the faint of heart. However, I believe there is a candidate for the job.” Chiron turned to a group of Aphrodite kids. “Olivia Marcelin, daughter of Aphrodite.” He inclined his head slightly to her. “Will you undertake this labour?”

Olivia, petite but muscular, had arrived at camp just before the rebellion. She was thrust into battle situations at fifteen and handled herself well. She was a good fighter, skilled in multiple weapons, and benefitted from being underestimated. Annabeth would have to be smart if she was going to beat her.

Olivia, although first taken off her guard, quickly straightened and smiled. “I would be honoured.”

“And who will you choose as your companions?” Chiron asked.

She looked around. “Adam Flavius.” Her brother, another son of Aphrodite. Unassuming, but had wickedly good aim with throwing knives. “and Sabine Stentz.” No surprise there. Sabine, daughter of Demeter, was Olivia’s girlfriend. Like all children of Demeter, she had power over plants, but she specialized in the art of offensive plants. Annabeth had seen her in action and would hate to have to tangle with her.

“Very well,” Chiron said. “Tonight you will go to the Oracle and prepare, for you leave at first light tomorrow morning.”

“But first,” said Michal – a child of Apollo. “More sing-along.”

As they strummed the opening chords of ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain,’ Annabeth turned to Thalia. “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” she said quietly.

Thalia looked at her with a little suspicion but nodded. “Sleep well.”

Annabeth slipped away quietly. In her cabin, she quickly packed the essentials in her backpack: ambrosia, nectar, change of clothes, a few drachmae, and everything else needed for a last-minute quest. Before she hurried out, she stuffed a pillow and extra blanket under her sheets, so it looked like she was asleep. The longer head start she could get before people noticed she was missing, the better.

Even though it had been a solo plan, Annabeth found herself knocking on Grover’s door.

“What is it?” he asked when he opened the door, looking like he had been sleeping. Then he saw her backpack and the sword that joined her dagger that was normally on her hip. “Whatever you’re doing, I do not want to be involved.”

“Grover, I need your help.”

“I am not going on your redemption quest, especially not if it’s a non-sanctioned one.”

“I have a better chance if you come along, you know that. You can track demigods.”

“I also know that I haven’t left camp since… you know, and I’m out of practice.”

“If we don’t do this, there’s a pretty good chance the demigod will be killed.”

“So what? Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Better that way? Are you hearing yourself?” Annabeth tried not to lose her cool. “This is a demigod who needs our help. Finding and protecting demigods is supposed to be your job, as a Searcher.”

Grover just shook his head.

“Look, I know that you feel like you failed Luke, like what happened was your fault, but that was on all of us, okay? But maybe we can make it right, by helping this person.” She squared her shoulders. “But whether you decide to come or not, I’m going.”

Grover sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

Annabeth sighed a breath of relief. While she had been ready to go along, she hadn’t like the idea. She hadn’t had to survive along since before she met Luke and Thalia after running away from home.

“I thought you said this wasn’t to make up for what happened to Luke,” said a voice behind her.

Annabeth jumped and spun around to see Thalia standing behind her.

“Thalia, I – we –”

“I can’t let you two dumbasses go along, and you seem pretty hell-bent.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fuck it – we’re all going on this unsanctioned quest – which I still don’t entirely approve of.”

[blueneptunium]

Control - Dark Percy

Summary:  Percy is at his last summer at Camp Half-Blood before he goes to live in New Rome for college. His powers are growing exponentially and he struggles for control. (I just really love dark Percy okay? Also yes, this is a lowkey songfic from control - Halsey.) Beta read by @tevi-tevi

Genre: Oneshot Dark!Percy fic, no warnings

Word Count: 6617

Read on AO3

“I sat alone, in bed till the morning

I'm crying, "They're coming for me"

And I tried to hold these secrets inside me

My mind's like a deadly disease”

Percy’s sword arm hurt. He can’t remember how many monsters he’s killed. They just kept coming and coming. How did they get into camp? There were so many of them now that Percy couldn’t see his friends fighting. Suddenly the air turned humid and hot, like it was trying to choke him. As he turned around the comforting landscape of Camp Half-Blood slowly melted into an all too familiar horror. Tartarus. It can’t be. I can’t be back.

More monsters came at him. He recognized everything he’d ever fought or read about. Percy yelled out for help, calling his friends, Chiron, Poseidon, anyone. He looked back to see where they all were, but rather than seeing them fight, he saw something so much worse. A mountain of bodies, stacked up to at least a giant’s height. Blood flowed down like rivers. All the faces were familiar. His mother. Annabeth. Every friend or ally he had ever known. Percy stopped fighting.

His sword was stuck. He turned towards it and found not the Cyclopes he thought he was slaying but rather his best friend. Percy tried to pull his sword out from where it resided in Grover’s chest but somehow he pushed it in deeper. The satyr fell to his knees. Percy tried to speak, to say anything. But the words won’t come. All he can do is stare and hold his best friend’s dying form. Percy called on the water, hoping that it could help heal. The waves came swirling around their heads, but would not go towards Grover. Soon there was enough water to separate them from everything else, trapping Percy in a dome made from the ocean.

“You did this.” Grover spoke before melting into the soil.

Percy fell forward and started to yell frantically. For help or for grief, he didn’t know. The water started to close in. Percy thrust his hand out, trying to push it away, but water from the ground started to rise instead. Quickly. Percy couldn’t control it. He swam and thrashed around, desperately trying to find a way out. Soon the water was over his head.

He couldn't breathe. The water felt clean and normal but Percy couldn’t breathe. Panic filled his lungs where air should be and he prayed to his father.

A deep booming voice resonated through Percy: “You’ve gone too far. You are no longer worthy of the gifts I have given you.” His father’s voice echoed in his head, over and over again until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

Percy jolted up in his bed, sweat clinging to him. He took deep breaths trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. But Percy had had visions before. Is the camp under attack? He stood up and walked out of his cabin without bothering to find shoes. He ran towards the Big House where Grover was staying and walked in without knocking. Opening the door of the satyr’s room, he let out a sigh of relief. Grover was in bed, surrounded by tin canes and snoring very loudly, but definitely not dying.

He considered waking the goat to discuss the dream but decided to let him sleep. It was probably midnight. It could wait until morning. He walked back toying with his camp necklace. There were five beads, one for every summer he’d known of this world, as well as a trident pendant his father, Poseidon, gave to him after the Giant War. Once Percy got back to his cabin, he tried to go to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, images from the dream danced around. After about an hour of restlessness, he got up and headed for the arena.

Percy didn’t know just what it was about saving the world a few times that made people act differently around you, but since the whole Gaea thing, the harpies that guarded the camp and threatened late nighters like himself didn’t really bother him anymore. He, of course, didn’t mind this as sword practice after a bad nightmare was his go-to therapy. He’d either tire himself out to the point where he had to go back to sleep, or he’d sit there practicing jabs and strokes until sunrise where he would sneak back to his cabin and pretend he got up with the rest of the camp. Tonight was the latter option. By the time the sun came rolling around and he was getting dressed for the new day, Percy’s arm was tired and the bags under his eyes were prevalent.

Annabeth met up with him after breakfast, flipping through papers as she walked. “I’m captaining capture the flag tomorrow, you’re leading offense, I’ll take defense.” Percy nodded his head and slipped his hand into hers.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Not quite. These are the plans.” She gave Percy half of the papers she had. “Those are all my battle strategies I wanna try out, choose one soon so I can match a defensive plan.”

“Ah, great, more homework,” Annabeth laughed at him and turned towards the cabins.

“I’m on cabin check, I’ll catch you later!”

“Wait, Annabeth!” he called after her. He hadn’t seen Grover yet and he knew that if he talked to Chiron, the centaur would make into a bigger deal than it was, but he wanted to talk to someone about his dream.

“What’s up, Seaweed Brain? Is it about Rome, have you heard back?” Percy shook his head. He definitely did not want to think about college right now. It had been hard enough graduating high school that spring, what with his grades and the fact that he’d missed most of the junior year, courtesy of Hera.

“No, I just wanted--” Percy faltered. He didn’t really know how to describe his dream. Annabeth just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. As he thought about, one thing about the dream bothered him almost more than anything else.

“Is it, I don’t know, possible for a god to...take away powers?” He tried. Annabeth just raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Like, if Hephestus wanted to take away Leo’s fire ability, could he do that?”

Annabeth looked down in thought. “I don’t know, Perce, maybe? I mean I imagine if they could, they would have done it to all the demigods that supported the Titans. Why?”

She was looking at him with concern, all stormy eyes. He didn’t want her to worry so he cracked his signature lopsided smile, giving him that special Percy-Jackson-idiocy look. “Just thought about it,” It seemed to have worked as Annabeth just laughed.

“See you later, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy smiled and waved her off. He used to hate the fact that everyone, even Annabeth sometimes, took him for being the happy-go-lucky dumb one. He joked around a lot, and yeah, he didn’t do great in school, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. Lately, however, he almost appreciated the persona people had made for him. The only time his allies delved from that idea was when he was on the battlefield.

Then everyone’s ideas changed. Rachel said he looked fierce and terrifying. Frank said he fought like a demon. Everyone always wanted battle Jackson on their side and were afraid if he wasn’t. It never bothered him much at first, but now it kind of scared him. He’d take happy-go-lucky over demon-fighter any day.

“I paced around for hours on empty

I jumped at the slightest of sounds

And I couldn't stand the person inside me

I turned all the mirrors around”

A wave of demigods all strapped up in armor gathered at the entrance of the woods. It was time for capture the flag and Percy had just explained everyone’s roles, courtesy of Annabeth’s strategy.

He was readjusting his straps that he couldn’t seem to make fit right, despite having done it hundreds of times. He hoped the game would go over well, but Percy’s head just wasn’t in it.

He’d had more nightmares of drowning, and to top it off, he’d gotten a letter back from the college in New Rome. As much as they were “pleased the former Praetor” wanted to attend, his grades weren’t good enough to get into their marine biology department. He would have to write another entrance essay and pass a STEM test to be accepted. Percy knew they were being generous, they did mostly deal with preoccupied demigods, but he still felt flustered and angry.

“Focus on the game, Jackson,” he grumbled to himself as he tightened his shoulder strap. Percy uncapped Riptide and headed out into the woods to get to his post before it started.

The plan was fairly simple, but the Ares cabin was leading the other team. They didn’t have much more strategy than hit everything you see. There were two offensive teams. Percy’s team was the distraction, leading the Ares defense out to fight. The second would retrieve the flag and bring it back to base, where Annabeth’s team was defending in several groups.

The fight broke out fairly quickly and half of the other team’s defense was on Percy’s group within minutes. They would need to plow their way through these guys in order to get the others to come, making the flag vulnerable.

For Percy, going against the other campers was fairly easy. He had three on him, two bulky Ares kids and one Demeter kid. He disarmed the Demeter kid first, stunning him so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to use any plant magic, and slashed and blocked with the other two fighters. His body was on autopilot from all the battles he’d been in. Unfortunately, those battles were life or death. This wasn’t. Percy went too hard. He slashed towards the left of one and turned to hit him with the butt of his sword, knocking him to the ground. He stepped in close enough to the next one that she couldn’t use her sword and hit her jaw with his forearm. He felt bad for a moment, but the strategy was working. The rest of the offense came up to avenge their teammates.

He tried to take on the bulk to the campers to give the rest of his team a better chance. They were going one to one while Percy was in four to one. His experience didn’t fail him. At this point, he might’ve even been able to beat Luke. Campers went down left and right. Too quickly. Percy’s mind wandered to his dream, the monsters' bodies that went down only for them to be revealed as his half-blood friends. He felt the panic rise up. His movements became slow and one of the campers got a hit in on his arm. He felt one approaching from behind. Percy’s body moved before his mind. He’d lost the Curse of Achilles long ago but sometimes his body seemed to forget and his only instinct was to protect his back.

Percy summoned water from the creek to blast the three in front of him. He turned around and thrust his hand out to the camper, expecting a water wall to push her down. She fell back, but there was no water. Percy realized with a start that he’d controlled the water in her. He had pushed her back. Without even touching her.

Fear overtook him and he dropped his sword to run to her side. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Percy, it’s okay, I just fell,” Percy looked at her furrowed brow. She didn’t know. He’d let go as soon as he realized and she didn’t know. He apologized again, or maybe it was several times all rushed together. He pushed past everyone else who had stopped fighting and ran for something.

The ocean. It always calmed him down to sit on the shoreline. It smelled so strongly of the sea and of home that once he got there, Percy almost jumped in to escape his thoughts. But something held him back. Honestly? He was afraid to. How could he have done something as violating as control another person’s body without meaning to? He could still see Annabeth’s face, in fear of him in Tartarus when the met up with Misery. He did that.

Percy could hear the hooves coming up behind him before Chiron spoke. “Percy,”

He turned towards the centaur and nodded. “I’m sorry I left, sir,”

Chiron put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and spoke evenly. “It’s alright, though I will admit I am curious as to why you did. Your team won the game and when dear Annabeth went to find you, the others said that you ran off, after knocking several members of their team unconscious.”

“I’m sorry about that really, I didn’t realize--I don’t know.” Percy sighed and looked down. Chiron had the same effect as his mom did: feeling like you disappointed them was the worst feeling in the world. And Percy was no stranger to bad feelings.

“They are all resting up in the infirmary, perfectly fine. It will serve them good motivation to spend their time in the arena wisely. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s happened?”

Percy did. As he talked, he found himself realizing things he wasn’t aware of before, at least not fully. His restlessness since returning home last summer. His struggle to separate fend-for-your-life battles and training exercises like today. He even told Chiron about his dream and his fear of drowning.

“I’m afraid that maybe one day, I’ll need to control the water to help and I won’t be able to or...or maybe I’ll control it too much.”

Chiron nodded, his face a mask. Percy guessed that after thousands of years of teaching, you could probably hide any reaction. “Percy, you have been through a lot for your young age,” Understatement, Percy thought but didn’t interrupt. “These nightmares and worries are normal from someone in your situation and even expected. However, with your abilities, you need to discover control. You have done well training, but how much time of your training has been devoted to your unique powers?”

Percy thought for a moment. Chiron had a point. His summers at camp had mostly been spent working on his swordsmanship. Sure, he’d practice every now and then, and he almost always used his water abilities in combat or during war games. However, he’d never really practice in order to strengthen those abilities.

“Percy, I recommend that you use this summer as an opportunity to make sure you know your limits before you leave for New Rome. If you would like to avoid using this...blood bending, then you need to make sure you know what your powers feel like, and what their limits are.”

Percy thanked Chiron and walked back to his cabin quietly thinking. He definitely didn’t want to go to New Rome with his powers out of control -- they already thought Neptune was bad enough. He could definitely put some more work into his training.

“Percy, wait up,”

Annabeth came running up to him just before he stepped into his cabin. “Hey, you alright?” Her wrinkled brow and stormy eyes made him smile.

“Yeah, all good, Chiron just gave me some advice.”

“Okay, I was going to head down to the fire with Piper, you wanna come? Jason will be there,” She smiled and held his hand.

“Yeah, okay,” He laughed.

They walked to the amphitheater like everything was fine because, for the moment, it was.

“I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead

And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead” 

Percy spent almost the entire day with Annabeth. Normally, that’s not something he would complain about, however it was spent alternating between writing his essay and studying math. Not his favorite activities but at least she was there to help him. Without her, he probably would have put the essay off until the week of the deadline, and it definitely would have been less articulate. Annabeth always had a strategy, even when it came to Percy’s education. This time it was “finish as soon as possible while still being good so you’ll impress them”. If they followed her timeline, Percy would be ready to take the test, which New Rome kindly allowed Chiron to administer, in about a week.

Needless to say, Percy needed to blow off some steam. While the other campers headed to the campfire after dinner, he trudged towards the woods. He thought if everyone was together in the amphitheater, he could be alone to follow Chiron’s advice. Part of the reason he’d never focused his training on his Poseidon abilities was that no one knew how to teach him. No one knew the limit of what he could do--not even Percy.

When he got to the creek, he started with just relating to the water. He stood in the bank and just focused on its power. He could feel it rushing, sense its wildness. He always felt a connection to the water; it was reckless and strong, it refused to be controlled for long, and more than anything it wanted to be free.

Percy wanted to start simple. He willed just a small line of water to rise. It was easy, nothing he hadn’t done hundreds of times. The point, however, was discipline. He dropped the water and stepped out of the river. He concentrated on raising one side of the creek, then the other. The whole stream oscillated back and forth.

Then he started making shapes with the water. Small things, at first: A sphere, a cube, a pyramid. Then he went for intricate. He started to recreate Poseidon’s cabin. First, the basic shape, a generic house. Then the memorized details of spending summer and summer there. The shells embedded in the walls. The curve of the window planes. He was so focused, he didn’t hear it.

Something slammed into his back and threw him to the river. The falling of his cabin-sculpture was enough to startle whatever it was just long enough for Percy to turn around to face it.

Of course, it was a giant scorpion. Percy had his fair share of luck with them. He reached into his pocket but Riptide was gone. Probably floated downstream when he fell. Percy was pinned under the monster and wouldn’t be able to stall long enough for the sword to reappear. As the scorpion's pincers rushed forward to end Percy Jackson’s life, he thrust his hands towards it, trying to push it off.

The monster went flying into the nearest tree. It couldn’t move but wasn’t dead yet. Percy had done it again: controlled the water inside another being. Apparently just as the human body had 80% water, monsters had their fair share too. Unlike during capture the flag, Percy was reluctant to let go. The thing that attacked him was at his mercy. It would be so much easier to end it like this. Even as he thought about it, water started coming from inside the scorpion, swirling around them. If he could take down monsters with just his thoughts, everything could be so much easier. All of his quests, done in half the time. Right before the last of the water was gone from the monster, Percy saw Annabeth’s scared face in his mind.

He let go. He didn’t even finish the monster off with his sword; he felt too guilty for that. It crawled away back into the woods. Percy fell to the ground. He couldn’t breathe. There was panic and guilt pushing on his chest and he had no idea what was happening to him. He couldn’t breathe. The creek responded to his anxiety and pushed water against him, pulling him into the creek. The water was soothing and helped calm his breathing but he still felt the weight of the sky on his chest. Percy realized he was moving upstream. He wasn’t controlling the water, which meant something else was. He started to fight it but stopped quickly. Could it be his father?

Percy let the water take all the way to the ocean. He fell in and instantly swam under, looking for any sign of Poseiden. In the waves, a shimmering figure appeared. It solidified into a woman with dark flowing hair and a soft smile. Percy wasn’t sure how to react so he bowed. “You’re the Nereid that helped me in Santa Monica?” Despite Percy accidentally wording it as a question, the woman held her smile.

“I am, child. It has been a long time since we first me, though I have always kept an interest in you.” She brushed her hand on his cheek and Percy felt warm currents. She still sounded so much like his mother.

“Did my father send you?”

“Not this time. I come for you only; we are shielded from his gaze.” Percy furrowed his brow. Why would she not want Poseidon to know they were meeting?

“It is okay, young hero, no wrong has been done. I simply come with advice.”

“Advice for what? Why haven’t I seen you in so long?” She laughed, a soft sound that reminded Percy of swimming with his mother in the frigid waters during their trips to Montauk. His favorite memories.

“Child, you are more powerful than you know. Like Poseidon, I must keep my distance. Playing favorites among heroes is something Olympus looks down upon. But you are the favorite of the sea, Perseus, and the sea stands behind you.” For some reason, he didn’t mind that she’d called him by his full name.

“What do you mean?” Percy was confused and felt disorientated. “What can I even call you?”

“I have gone by many names throughout your history, though I was never as well known as my sisters. You, child, may call me Maera.”

“Your sisters?”

“The Fifty Nereids, you have met some of them. Amphitrite is married to your father, and I believe you know Calypso without introduction.” Percy’s face warmed. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable underwater. He would always have a soft spot where Calypso was concerned.

“As for what I meant, I think you know. You are growing stronger, but you still have more to gain. To unlock yourself, you must push the limits, Perseus, but be wary. You can do incredible deeds. One day, you may even be able to rival your father. In order to get there, you must keep focus. Do you understand, child?”

Percy slowly nodded. “I think so, but I don’t get why I need to practice. There isn’t much more than Titans and Giants and those are over with.”

Maera brushed his cheek again. “Because one day, a choice of power will come to you, and you will need to be prepared for it.”

“I don’t want power.”

“And that’s what makes you worthy of it. I must go back to Poseidon’s court.” She started to fade back into light. Percy reached out to her, not wanting her to go yet.

“Wait!”

“We will see each other again, young hero, I promise. Follow your heart!”

And just like that, she was gone. Again. Percy stayed underwater for a while, not wanting to leave the safety. He sent out a silent promise to Maera that he would do as she asked.

He walked back to the cabins and ran into Annabeth.

“Hey! Are you...you’re wet.” She stared at him like he was on fire and could only be dosed out by a puzzle.

“Yeah.”

“You’re never wet.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” He felt bad for cutting her short, but he didn’t know what to say, except about meeting Maera and something told him that he should keep that to himself. He cracked the Jackson smile.

“I’m sorry, I just started working on training, y’know Chiron’s advice, and I’m pretty tired.”

She gave him a worried smile and kissed his cheek. “Okay, well, get some rest and we’ll work on your essay tomorrow?”

He nodded and kissed her goodnight before heading back into his nightmare filled bed.

“I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones”

Not even Chiron could’ve come up with a more intense training regime. From then on, Percy was entirely focused. He would get up every morning before camp broke and run the length of the beach, racing against various sea animals, or sometimes Blackjack. At first, he had no chance. As the days passed, he started to get closer and closer to winning. He was still yards away from the hippocampi, but he’d bested two dolphins.

Then he would eat breakfast with Annabeth, working on his studies. It was difficult as he was more restless than ever, but Annabeth was determined--and it paid off. He finished his essay in a week and a half and took the STEM exam by late July. His score certainly wasn’t outstanding but he passed, which was enough for the marine biology program.

After that, he was either in the arena, the woods, or the ocean. He would spar with the Athena and Ares kids. Hand to hand, he had yet to beat Clarisse, but he was a lot closer than he’d ever been. She was actually trying now. When it came to swords, however, no one came close. He usually trained with them to keep up the practice, not get rusty. But now he was trying to improve his skill. He didn’t go easy on them. It took a month before he could beat every member of both cabins in one day. As a favor (that may or may not have stemmed from swapping shower times and chore charts), the Hephestus cabin built him three super-powered warriors that could keep up with him. When he first went against them, Percy felt like he was sparring Luke, Chrysaor, and Quintus (or rather, Daedalus) all at once. It was finally a good challenge. It took two weeks before they needed repairs. After that, the warrior bots needed fixed every night.

“Come on man, what are you training for? The bronze versus sword Olympics?” Leo joked. Percy offered to teach him as payment for the constant repairs. He found teaching helpful, it reminded him of old tactics. Soon he had a class of about half the camp that he taught three times a week. Even Annabeth and Jason signed up for a couple. When he wasn’t teaching, people came to watch him fight against the bronze warriors, watching for tips. He’d gotten good at blocking out excess noise and just focusing on the battle at hand.

Unlike the arena, his time spent in the woods and ocean were private. He would never tell Annabeth, but he was practicing this new blood bending technique. Only on monsters in the woods, and only to a point. He hadn’t killed any with it, and he didn’t plan to. At least, not anytime soon. He had gotten a fair grasp on it. He could now pinpoint how he wanted the monsters to move, rather than just away.

In the ocean, he worked on bending waves and currents to his will, shaping water and utilizing it. He focused on summoning hurricanes and controlling them. His stamina improved enough that starting a storm didn’t wear him out anymore if he was careful. Though it did make some of the campers who were previously enjoying a nice sunny day upset with him. He talked more with creatures under the surface. Rather than just talking to them when either he or they needed help, Percy developed relationships with them. Learned from them on how to better navigate the ocean and his training. Sometimes he would even go looking for a sea monster.

He always won.

One day, Percy skipped out on dinner to stay under the surface. Not entirely voluntarily. Some fish had gone back to Poseidon with the knowledge of Percy’s training and since then his dear old dad would send various underwater menaces Percy’s way when he couldn’t be bothered to clean up after them. Normally it was fine. Just a big fish or a scaley being, nothing to be too worried about. This time, Poseidon went too far. He sent a skolopendra.

Shrimpzilla was worse the second time around. He was pushing currents against it and throwing sharped water its way, but it wasn’t easy. Percy was defending himself well enough, but just went he tried to go in with Riptide, it all went wrong. One of the tentacles grabbed Percy, the sharp ends tearing into his skin, and threw him out of the water. He went flying. Great, Percy thought, If I don’t die from impact, Zeus will be sure to shoot me down. He landed hard just outside the mess hall, some forty yards away from the shore. As soon as he hit down, the ground shook, as if he weighed enough to pressure it. A small earthquake.

Percy was admittedly pissed. He didn’t ask for his dad’s fights. He certainly didn’t ask to be thrown by some crayfish monster. He didn’t even ask to be a half-blood, which is what it all came down to really. He turned his anger into fuel, called upon water from the air to strengthen him. He ran charging at the ocean. About halfway there, his feet picked up from the ground. The storm he was causing was strong enough to lift him up. In the back of his ADHD mind, he wondered if this counted as Jason’s flying and if that would put him in hot water with Zeus. As he was lifted to the monster, who at this point had emerged from the water, he thrust his hand out and called on the water swirling around him to create a weapon in his hand. He came down on the skolopendra, driving a water made trident right in between its glassy eyes. The monster dissolved under him and he used just a little bit more strength to guide him back to shore (where campers had started to gather) before dismantling his hurricane, leaving him soaking wet.

But Percy wasn’t done yet. No, of course not, he always had something to say.

“Really?!” He shouted at the ocean in a voice that sounded a lot more malice than his own. Several campers stepped back.

“What was that?!” He threw the water trident into the water, it sailing well beyond what should have been capable. He imagined it going all the way to Poseidon and punching right into his desk. “Hmm, I don’t wanna deal with fucking Shrimpzella, so I’ll just send on over to my favorite son, Percy, yeah?!” He didn’t know what else to emphasize his point, but he was angry with his dad, so he uncapped Riptide and threw that into the ocean for good measure. “Then again you never were good at cleaning up your messes, huh, dad?”

He started to walk away but paused. He tore the trident pendant from his necklace off and threw it into the water.

“You can have that back too,” he said, though the malice was gone, and he just sounded tired.

Percy kept his head down as he walked to the cabins. One of the campers tried to grab his arm and stop him, but Percy growled out a “Don’t touch me,” and kept going. Only later did he realize it was Annabeth and apologized to her.

No one brought up the sea monster, at least not around Percy.

“And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

God damn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?”

They were lucky that the Golden Fleece made the camp barrier so strong. The monsters that had gathered just hit against the barrier, causing no damage. A few had followed some new demigods to camp, and then called for backup. Normally, the would just wait it out until they left, but it had been a while. Chiron let Clarisse lead a group to “dispatch” the beasts. Percy counted three Laistrygonians, two Cyclopes, and something that resembled a leopard crossed with a shrimp.

“Group One: take on the giants, Jackson you take point. Rodriguez, you lead Two to go after the Cyclopes. Chase, you’re with me. Attack plan twenty-three.”

The broke up and prepared to exit the barrier. The plan was to divide and conquer. Separate each monster so they couldn’t work together, stay in pairs so it’s always two to one. Percy was paired with someone from the Apollo cabin, Ashley. They would stand back and use a bow while Percy got in close with his sword.

The fighting started the second they left the camp line. Percy could hear the Cyclops in the distance, but focused his attention. He ran at one of the giants while arrows went over his head. He played it simple. Ducking under the Laistrygonian, he slid in between its legs, slashing the calf. The monster fell over and Percy twisted as he stood up to drive his sword into its back, vaporizing it.

He signaled to Ashley to go after the nearest giant. Together they ran towards it. Ashley aimed a flash arrow right on his forehead, stunning him, while Percy rolled through and slashed at the chest. The other two campers fighting got the idea and jabbed their weapons into its sides. The now bigger group went to help with the last giant, who was already on the ground. Percy looked around to take inventory. Two giants down, one Cyclops was missing, and… Annabeth fallen. Whatever the leopard thing was, it was on top of her, claws deep.

Percy felt anger and panic rise in his chest. He was too far away to run to her in time. The Cyclops. It was backed into pond. That would give him enough strength. Maybe. He ran towards it, breaking the pattern. Splashing into the water, he called on its power and rose up. He used the Cyclops’ head like a springboard and jumped into the air. When he landed, he focused his power into the ground, taking in water from the pond, from the air, even from himself. A tremor rolled through the ground, knocking everyone off of their feet. Percy thrust his hands down and with them fell each monster. He imagined their lifeforce, the water in them, in his hands. He slowly made a fist. Then he took the driving force and punched the ground.

After that, everything was a blur. He’d used a lot of his strength. The monsters were dead. He was at Annabeth’s side. She was awake. The cuts across her midriff were bleeding, but they weren’t deep.

She was okay.

Percy blacked out.

When he woke, he was in the infirmary. His head felt like he had banged it against a concrete wall for fun. Annabeth was there, asleep on the chair. Percy sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“You were out for just a day, but I imagine you’ll need a few more for recovery.”

Percy looked up. A man with rugged features and green eyes stared down at him. Poseidon.

“Dad?” He wanted to ask why he was here, but his voice was so raspy, he barely got out the single word. Poseidon gestured to the table next to him. A cup of iced nectar was there. Percy gratefully took it.

“Percy, you are very powerful. After all, you are my son.” Poseidon looked at him as if trying to gauge whether or not his words were sinking in. “But you must be careful when using your power. What you did on the hill, not even I use that ability often.”

Percy was confused. Moreso, Percy was angry. “You’re kidding, right?” Poseidon just blinked at him.

“I have been trying to get you to help me understand what I can do since I was twelve! I only see you when the world is about to end!” Percy yelled. As much as he had forgiven his father for, there was an equally long list of things he hadn’t.

“You send me quests and monsters and expect me to risk my life for you, and now you think you have full range to question my abilities? If you wanted to be able to do that, then you should’ve been there when I was discovering them.”

If Percy had been strong enough to stand, he might’ve pushed the god. Which probably would have been a bad idea. He imagined he could get away with yelling at his father, but at the end of the day, Poseidon was immortal and all-powerful. He wasn’t sure what to expect for a reaction. He did not expect Poseidon to nod.

“I understand why you’re angry. I would have liked to have been there for you, to train you myself, but there are rules which I must follow. And there are rules which you must follow.”

“Rules?”

“Demigods are limited by their bodies. There are given godly power but are not born in something that can handle it. I appreciate you trying to connect with the ocean, and gain control over your abilities. But if you keep on your path, you won’t be the one in control. You will burn yourself up, and I am not speaking in metaphors.”

Percy wanted to ask why he was given them. He wanted to yell at Poseidon for trying to mentor him. But he stayed silent.

The god walked over to the nightstand and placed something down. “I must return to my court. I would advise adhering to my warning.”

And just like that, he was gone, melted into water that disappeared before it touched the floor. Percy’s energy to be angry with his father melted with it. He reached over to the table to find what Poseidon left. It was the trident charm he had thrown in the ocean weeks ago.

At least the god had been listening.

Annabeth stirred and he set the pendant down.

“You’re awake.” She muttered.

“And you’re not,” He chuckled back. She reached over and took his hand, but wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Percy, what you did…” She struggled for the words. “Some things shouldn’t be controlled.”

Percy felt like someone punched his stomach. Those were the exact words she’d said to him in Tartarus, only instead of looked terrified, now she just looked worried. He didn’t know how to respond.

Chiron stepped into the room.

“Percy, I am sure that you do not want to hear this, but you must be careful.” Percy sighed and looked down. He didn’t argue. Chiron was a strong mentor, and even though he didn’t want to talk, Percy knew that he should listen.

“I have never seen powers like yours in my lifetime, and I’ve taught many heroes. What you did, it was godlike, Percy. I do not want your demise being caused by your gifts growing.”

“Chiron, I--” Percy faltered. He didn’t know how to explain it. He still felt as if he shouldn’t talk about the Nereid, but it was beyond her advice. He wanted to understand his limits, his capabilities. “I’m not sure if I can help it from becoming stronger.

He looked down again, speaking softly.

“I’m not sure what I’m becoming.”

[codevassie]

hi! a'ight first off i just wanna say your ASFoS fic is quite possibly the dopest shit i've ever read. like. i saved some of the songs from that playlist and i stiLL get emotional when they come up on shuffle so yeaH amazing work!!!

CV: Omg thank you SO MUCH!!! I can’t tell you enough how happy it made me to see this! ASFoS is my baby. That playlist too! I’m curious which songs you liked.Alright, on to the one-shot. I hope you like it! I didn’t know how much I wanted to write this au until I got this request?? Now I have sooo many headcanons. So thank you and enjoy!

Note: Sorry if I got anything to the PJO universe incorrect. I can’t remember every single detail of the books and, I must say, that is one of my greatest downfalls as a human being. I will be working on my other request shortly, but requests are still open, so stop by!Btw, this takes place during Sea of Monsters.

“One,” Keith murmured to himself as he plucked at a strawberry, dropping it into the basket at his feet. “Two, three, four,” he continued counting.

The wind swept past, rustling his bangs across his sweaty forehead. The sun beat down, the weather adjusted for camper comfort, but not the physical labor of hours in the strawberry fields.

“Five… six…” Two more thumps into the basket, filling fuller with the ruby red fruit, delicious where they shined in the bright sunlight. “Seven…”

Keith paused, hand carefully extended to number eight. His fingertips brushed its smooth surface, but he retracted it before it plucked.

He righted himself from his bent posture, directing his line of sight across the field where numerous others were hard at work. The satyrs played their music. The Demeter and Dionysus kids wiggled their fingers, making the vines dance. There were some other kids who had gotten roped into the task too, but mostly it was just them. Satyrs. Demeter and Dionysus kids. And that one kid who hadn’t been claimed yet.

For eight years.

It really had been that long now, hadn’t it? Keith had stumbled his way into camp eight years ago, dirty, scared, orphaned, and only seven years old. Somehow, he had found his way there, in a place he was supposed to belong. Finally.

Except, not even at Camp Half Blood had Keith really belonged. He’d been stuck in the cabin of rejects, of extras, of forgottens. And, whoever his godly parent out there was, they hadn’t cared to get him out.

Hadn’t bothered to send just the tiniest sign. For eight years.

Suddenly, Keith didn’t feel like working in the field anymore. That eighth strawberry could pluck itself.

So he gathered his basket and walked to one of the others, handing it over before making his way out of the fields. He was tired from his work, and nothing sounded better than a bed right now - a bed which had taken years to earn since he wasn’t even an official part of the Hermes cabin and all - but he wouldn’t be going back to the cabin just yet. If there was anything guaranteed about the chaos of the Hermes cabin, it was that there would always be people in it, always a crowd, and Keith didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd right now.

Instead, he went to the arena where only a couple of people had decided to spend their afternoon. Since the border had been poisoned, the weather had become increasingly hotter and its magic was unable to regulate it. Most people were inside, with the air conditioning.

So Keith found himself a corner of the arena and started to hack away at one of the dummies. He was already sweating from his work in the fields and the scorching weather, but he decided he didn’t care much as long as he got to swing his sword, stretch his muscles, and ignore the world.

He didn’t want to think of it all. The border. The monster attacks. That Percy kid off on another quest to save them all. Luke…

“Aren’t you sick of it? How many years has it been now and your mom won’t claim you?”

Eight years…

He swallowed down the sick feeling that rose in his throat, putting extra effort into slashing the dummy. It split, half of it falling to the ground. Shit, now he’d have to replace that.

Keith threw his sword into the dirt, leaving it to stick up like Excalibur in the stone, while he went to drag away the useless dummy. He tried to forget Luke’s voice. He tried to forget how tempting it had been to follow. He’d trusted Luke. He’d looked up to the guy - was even kind of close to him, considering no one survived in the Hermes cabin without having known its cabin leader. He had been a great cabin leader.

But it hadn’t been a shock, really. Keith regretted that - that he had almost seen it coming. Luke had always been so bitter towards their parents. There had always been something off about the way he brushed it off, like he had to force himself to calm down.

It was something achingly familiar, this grudge that Luke held onto. Like a life raft. This resentment towards their parents Keith understood completely. He didn’t think a war was necessary for it, but he understood.

Despite this, a lot of people were wary of him now. More and more unclaimed were disappearing from camp to join Luke. Why would Keith not? Eight years was a long time to wait, after all…

And maybe Keith might have. If not for Shiro.

Shiro was the closest thing Keith had to a brother. Once upon a time, it had made him consider the chances of being a child of Hebe. He’d gotten rid of that idea almost immediately. Children of Hebe were way too good to be anything like him. Not that he had much to go off of. Shiro was the only claimed child of Hebe at camp at the moment, and, even though he was stuck in with all the unclaimed and Hermes kids, he never seemed resentful. He always paid attention too. He helped kids get settled in when they arrived, made sure they had plenty of people they could go to, even kept an eye on them after they’d been claimed and moved cabins. It was just in his nature to care - something Keith couldn’t understand how he did for all the brain cells he put into the notion.

But it had really helped him throughout the years. Shiro had always been there for him, since he’d first arrived three years ago. After so long of being alone, it was nice to have someone like Shiro.

Dragging the dummy out of the way, Keith thought about going to find Shiro. Maybe they could spar together. Or go to the dining pavilion - it was close to lunch anyway. Just then, though, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, hi, Keith,” Lotor said, walking up to him with purpose, tailed by the two girls who were always following him around. “Here all alone? I suppose it makes sense an unclaimed doesn’t have any friends.”

“Piss off, Lotor,” Keith spat, pulling out a dummy and carrying it over to one of the empty mounts.

“I guess it makes sense that you have no friends at camp. I heard they’re all with Luke. Only a matter of time until you follow, I suppose,” Lotor said, sighing like he really believed in that inevitable. Keith felt his blood boil.

“I’m not turning on camp,” he said, turning to Lotor suddenly. “And, for your information, I have friends here too.”

“Oh, yes, whatever,” Lotor said, waving his words away like particularly annoying flies. “Anyway, we were going to spar, but we seem to be uneven here. Care to join?”

Keith knew that was a bad idea. Everyone knew that was a bad idea. You see, Lotor was a kid of Tyche, the goddess of luck, and a pretty powerful one at that. Going against Lotor was stupid, dumb; he’d lose for sure.

Which is exactly why he couldn’t back down each time. Lotor had won too many times, and Keith was determined to bring him down. It wasn’t fair, especially when Lotor won on nothing but his own unnatural luck. Keith was brought down time after time from a misplaced foot or the awkward angle of his sword. The fights were never on skill, and that frustrated Keith to Hades.

When he accepted Lotor’s offer this time, he ended up on the ground not two seconds into the spar. But, hot-blooded as Keith was, he kept going back. And back. And back. Any time Lotor challenged him, Keith was there to take up the offer, as many times as he continued to lose.

Keith was good, but luck, luck was better. Luck had never been on Keith’s side.

“Again, Kogane?” Lotor asked from above, but Keith was already exhausted. The adrenaline from Lotor’s initial challenge was already wearing off, especially after he had already been sparring all day, even long before Lance had arrived.

But Keith had never been known to do things for his own good. He rose to his feet, readied his sword. “Again.”

He was taken down time and time again, none of it by skill, all by happenstance. Stupid things. A foot in the wrong place. A wrong sword angle.

It wasn’t long until Ezor and Zethrid were laughing their butts off. Lotor chuckled too as he watched Keith rise once again, wiping sweat from his forehead. “If this is what Luke is looking to recruit, camp should win without problem.”

Keith was exhausted. He knew, logically, he wouldn’t win anything like this, but he couldn’t leave it at this. Lotor would get what was coming to him and Keith would be the one to deliver it. Eventually, his luck had to run out.

“I bet you’re staying at camp to do the recruiting for him,” Lotor laughed. “How pathetic that he would choose someone who has gone years without being claimed.”

Keith brandished his sword before him. Lotor rolled his eyes, but he put his sword up again too.

“I’m not working for Luke,” Keith gritted out through clenched teeth. His voice shook. He knew he was letting Lotor get to him.

Shaking the emotions away, Keith readied himself to lunge again when a voice interrupted them. A familiar voice. A voice Keith did not want to hear right now.

“What’s going on here?” Lance asked, stalking up to them, flanked by two other kids. Keith recognized them. It would have been strange not to, as long as he’d lived at camp. It was Hunk and Pidge, a child of Hephaestus and a wood nymph. Keith wondered what they were doing there.

“Keith, why are you always doing this?” Pidge asked, stalking forward to look up at him with this look in their eyes. He knew exactly what they were referring to. What they all saw, and what they all knew of his record with Lotor.

“Sparring,” he grunted simply, trying to stand tall despite the exhaustion dragging down his limbs. He crossed his arms, trying to appear put together. Pidge, of course, saw straight through him. And so did everyone around.

“Don’t spar with him,” Pidge said, practically growling on the last word as they glared at Lotor. Lotor just looked on, amused and innocent. At this, though, he spoke up.

“Keith here seems just fine sparring with me,” he said, shrugging a shoulder and smirking. “And I’d really like to continue, if you three don’t mind.”

They both turned toward Keith, Lotor with a challenge in his eye that set a fire in him that wanted to lash out, Pidge with a disapproving look. “Keith,” they said in warning.

Keith had never really listened to them when it came to stuff like this. He didn’t even listen to Shiro half the time when it came to Lotor. He turned back toward Lotor, lifting his sword. “Pidge, give us space.”

“Nope! Nope nope, nuh-uh,” Lance suddenly cut in, making Keith look his way. He was walking forward, coming to stand next to Pidge. “You, my friend, are exhausted. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Seriously? You’re calling me an idiot and expecting me to listen to you?” Keith asked, putting down his sword yet again to turn toward him.

“Yep,” Lance said, self-assured. “And you’re going to.”

“And why is that?” Keith couldn’t help but ask.

Suddenly, Lance seemed to get serious. He leaned forward, talking in a low voice and holding Keith’s eyes to his like glue. “Because, if you keep sparring Lotor like this, you’re never going to win. You’re probably the only one at this camp who can do it, but if you go in blindly like this, he’s never going to get what he deserves. And that’s to eat dirt at the tip of your sword.”

Keith paused, letting the words going through his mind, felt them tug on him, felt them tug him toward Lance, to put down the sword. Lance was right. Keith wanted Lotor to get what he deserved so bad, but Lance was right. That wouldn’t happen today. That wouldn’t happen when he didn’t have the strength to do it, or the level head to execute it.

So he clutched at his sword, then sheathed it. He turned toward Lotor. “Another day.”

And, with that, he followed the three out of the arena.

-/-

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk invited him to the mess hall for lunch, but Keith turned them down. Instead, he went to the showers, then back to the Hermes cabin, deciding to call it a day.

“Long day?” another camper asked as she walked by. Keith merely grunted in affirmation and Romelle giggled. She was a new comer there, yet she had already been claimed. Daughter of Iris. Apparently, since Iris was a messenger goddess, Romelle had inherited some strange ability to project thoughts into others’ minds.

Feel better, she whispered into his mind, and he pushed back a Thank you that he hoped she got.

“I’m heading to Athena cabin,” she called as she left, and Keith could hear the excitement in her voice. That was another thing. As the daughter of the goddess of rainbows, she also claimed to it was her god(dess) given right to be as hopelessly gay for cabin six resident Allura as possible.

“Good luck,” Keith called, but she was already gone. He chuckled, then dropped his head back into his pillow. He stayed like that for a while, listening as voices carried in and out of the cabin. No one paid him any mind and no one disturbed him. Eventually, he was able to drift off, sleeping away much of the hot and sticky day as he could in the tolerably okay temperatures of the busiest cabin.

When he awoke, it was with regret. Mid-day naps were never a good idea. He felt groggy, somehow more tired than when he’d gone to sleep, but, as he tried to roll over and drift again, his body kick-started, letting him know that he would not be getting any more sleep any time soon. Great, he pissed his body off.

So, with a groan, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. When he looked around, he noticed that the cabin was darker, but still relatively empty. Beams of orange sunlight streamed in at odd angles, signalling a sunset over the Big House and time for dinner. Keith wasn’t sure if he was really hungry, but, then again, he’d only had breakfast that day and Shiro would surely come looking for him if he skipped two meals.

He huffed before swinging his legs over the bed, getting ready to stand before he saw another inhabitant of the cabin. Lance, laying in is bunk across the room, book propper up on his pillow where he had been reading on his stomach, was staring over at him. Keith’s wasn’t sure if it was the sunset or what, but his cheeks looked particularly dark.

“Lance?” he asked, causing the boy in question to jump.

“Keith!” he exclaimed, cheeks going even darker. “You’re up!”

“Yeah…” he replied, then stretched a bit, arms overhead. Lance made an odd sound. “Are you not going to dinner?”

Sounding rather strangled, Lance replied, “No, no. I am.”

“Okay…” Keith said, finally catching up to the awkwardness of the situation. He paused. “Well, we should get there?”

“What?” Lance squeaked. “Like, together?”

Keith frowned. “Um, I guess?” Why was Lance being so weird. “Why are you being so weird?” he decided to ask. Lance blinked, then shook his head, sitting up from his position. He cleared his throat.

“Weird? No, not weird. You’re weird,” he accused, jumping down from the bed. “Let’s go get food.”

Keith, confused but amused, chuckled and shook his head. “Alright,” he said as he followed after.

Much of the walk there was spent in silence, and Keith watched the sunset, watched the blue of the Big House and the lonely porch swing out front. He looked up into the pavilion, seeing the commotion of kids getting food, scraping into the offering, talking and laughing and crowding into the Hermes table. But Keith’s thoughts wandered back down to the arena, looking at the desolate area and thinking about earlier in the day.

“Thanks for earlier,” Keith said, startling Lance.

“Huh?” Lance asked, brows furrowing in a cute way. Keith shook the thought from his head, refusing to get stuck on that bullshit again.

“When I was sparring Lotor. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

“Oh,” Lance said, then shrugged. “No problem. I know how you get.”

“Do you?” Keith asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t been aware that anyone paid attention to him. Shiro kept tabs on him. Pidge would beat up anyone who messed with him. Lotor did so only to the extent that he could piss him off. But Lance?

“Well, you’re always fighting Lotor, even though no one has beat him. He’s just got way too much luck for it to be worth it. But you think it’s worth it.”

“It’ll be worth it when he understands he can’t always win,” Keith huffed, frustrated and tired all at once. It was always an uphill battle when it came to Lotor. Or, maybe not even uphill. He was on a cliff and Keith couldn’t scale it. There was never any progress.

“But you always go at it when you’re not ready,” Lance pointed out, and Keith’s attention snapped to him. He frowned, ready to protest, but Lance continued. “Your emotions get everywhere, then you tire yourself out, then you won’t think straight. You’re way too impulsive.”

“That doesn’t matter. One of these days, I’ll beat him.”

“Not like that, you won’t,” Lance shook his head. “Hermes kids are like a Jack of All Trades, you know? So I know what it’s like to spread myself between different things. I’m not great at anything, but I can be alright at a couple.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Keith said without thinking of it, then went red at the compliment. Lance looked at him a bit incredulously and Keith cleared his throat, determined now that he had said it, to explain. “I mean, you’re good at a lot of things, and it’s not just ‘alright’. Being a Hermes kid means you have the capacity to understand a whole lot, and you do.”

“Oh,” Lance said, and Keith turned towards him. His eyes were wide and staring at him, the tips of his ears red in the setting sun. He averted his gaze almost immediately, but Keith’s heart was already thumping wildly in his chest. There was the smallest of smiles on Lance’s lips as he determinedly stared down at his scuffed up tennis shoes, and it made a smile of his own appear on Keith’s face. “Thanks,” Lance said.

“It’s the truth,” Keith replied simply, turning to look back ahead of them again. They were quickly approaching the mess hall.

“Yeah, well, so, it’s like that,” Lance said, clearing his throat and tapping his fingers to his thigh, looking all around, probably to avoid Keith’s gaze. “Beating Lotor isn’t going to rely on just one of your skills. You have to pay attention to a lot more than that. You have to use your head as well as your instincts to figure it out.”

For a moment, Keith was silent. He watched the pavilion where he could see Shiro at the offering fire talking to Pidge’s brother, eyes soft as Shiro laughed at something Matt said. Lotor’s words filled his head again, the accusations he knows everyone must be thinking.

Shiro was the only one who had known just how close Keith had come at one point to actually following Luke out of there. One night, he had exploded with the frustration of it all and Shiro had been the one to calm him down. He’d told Keith not to cling to resentment, to use his head instead of running head first in with anger. It made sense then and it made sense now.

And, surprisingly, coming from Lance, it calmed him down easier than Shiro’s own go at it had. When Lance said it, it sounded like a plan, it sounded like something, not only logical, but attainable.

“I’ll think about that,” Keith said with a nod. Then, they stepped into the pavilion and were swept up in the hassle of kids all around and the delicious smells of dinner.

“And, Keith?” Lance asked. Keith turned to look at him, surrounded by excited kids and sloshing drinks and the smell of sweet burning. Lance scratched his head, looking sheepish, when he said, “About what Lotor was saying to you…”

“About what?” Keith asked, but he had a bad feeling that he knew what. He swallowed, unable  to tear his gaze from Lance’s. His worry must have shown on his face because Lance’s gaze softened.

“I know that you aren’t with Luke, and so do a lot of people here. You’ve been at camp for too long to actually think that we could believe that. Too many here have your back for that. You know that, right?”

Keith felt frozen on the outside, but his insides were alive and a squirming hot mess. Suddenly, there was a lump in his throat and he had to look away in order to swallow it down, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he said as evenly as he could. “Thanks, Lance.”

“No problem, man.”

-/-

“Keith,” Lotor greeted, walking into the arena and making an immediate detour his way. Keith, who had just been sharpening his sword before practice, turned to him with a scowl, clutching the whetstone tighter. He rubbed the pommel of his sword with a thumb, back and forth.

“What do you want, Lotor?” he asked, already on guard. Lotor didn’t have his lackies today, though, and the arena was considerably full of campers, all training for the day. Lotor wouldn’t try to pull anything.

“Our fight was interrupted the other day. Since we both seem to be in for practice, why don’t we give it another go?” Lotor smiled cruelly down at him, flicking a tiny lock of white hair that had fallen into his face away.

“So, you want someone to beat down for the day?” Keith translated, unable to really care about his pride at the moment, especially when a shocked look crossed Lotor’s face. This guy really needed someone who could counteract his powers if he ever wanted to become a better swordsman. Keith would prove that luck couldn’t always win one day, and then Lotor won’t have a single way to get better for those instances.

“I suppose I will have to go easy on you, then?” Lotor asked, rolling his eyes, but Keith shook his head.

“I won’t need it,” he huffed, feeling frustration bubble up inside him. Then, he remembered Lance’s words.

“You’re way too impulsive.”

Impulsive indeed. Keith paused, collecting his thoughts, letting his emotions settle down. He took the time to consider… was fighting Lotor right now a good idea?

He wasn’t tired from practice. And he had sorted out his emotions. His frustration was a dull murmur in his head, but, overall, he could think clearly. If there was ever a time, Keith decided it was now.

So he walked out into the open space, turning to face Lotor, who had done the same. People around the arena seemed to have taken notice and were hushing and gathering, interested to see how another Keith vs Lotor match would go. There were no exchanges of hands in the audience. They all obviously thought they knew how it would go.

And it probably would. Keith had lost to Lotor enough times to realize that, and could think clearly enough to know that he still wanted to try. He would never give up on trying to teach Lotor this lesson: that he couldn’t always win. Since he wouldn’t give up, he might as well learn from the fight.

So he raised his sword, defensive before him and stance low. Lotor tied back his hair, then mirrored the stance. Keith could hear murmurs in the crowd. He breathed one more deep in and out. He was ready as he’d ever be.

Then, he lunged.

Their swords clanged in a metallic ring, screeched as they broke apart, and repeated its reverberations over and over as they each attempted to disarm the other, and put each other in check-mate. He let his body carry him through on instinct, but maintained a clear head, watching to make sure his feet landed correctly, and his blade didn’t skid horribly. He was on the look-out for blatant uses of Tyche’s luck, but it was hard to divide his attention between his opponent and everything else.

One moment, his foot stepped to the side, far from where he’d meant, and he knew what was at play. Lotor’s sword came down to trip him, but Keith moved at the very last second, breathing heavily as the toll of the fight dragged on his limbs. Lotor was fluid and natural, but even he looked to be feeling the effects.

It showed most especially in the increasing number of Keith’s simple screw-ups, things that would have rarely happened had he not been against such strong luck. Somehow, though, he barely dodged each one.

“You have to use your head as well as your instincts to figure it out,” Lance’s voice in his head reminded him.

Balance. It was something Lotor lacked. There was no balance between his wins and losses. There was no balance between his goods and bads. Luck spun everything around Lotor, and he avoided the natural order of the world with it. Keith had lacked balance too, relying on his instinct and frustration to carry him through his battles. Not anymore.

Keith’s sword skidded at an odd angle along Lotor’s blade, heading straight for the dirt below them, and, after that, Keith would be unforgivably open for take-down. He could feel the power behind the move, the golden luck winding its way around Lotor’s blade, blessing it, and its repercussions, its own way of balancing the world, pushing all the bad luck onto Keith’s blade. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

But this action and reaction were twisting the natural order, pushing things around that weren’t meant to happen. And Keith felt his need to right it.

Then, he pushed that need into the power he felt around him, burning away the luck and bad luck and leaving only the way of the world. He felt it all cancel out, his blade swinging with his weight so that, instead of falling into the dirt, it spun around with his body and fell back on the other side of Lotor’s blade. Lotor, for a moment, looked shell-shocked, before he snarled and bat away the blade.

They were back into the throng of it, metal clangs, the audience’s cheers, sweat in their eyes. Keith could feel the luck working around him, working against him, but he could also feel something else. He could feel it canceling with each of his moves. He could feel the luck withering away.

And Lotor could too. His swings became harder, his spurts of luck more and more desperate. They were both tiring, but, somehow, in some way, Lotor’s luck was running out.

Then, in a display of great irony, Lotor’s foot misstepped. Keith reached forward with his own, hooking around the ankle and pulling. Lotor fell right to the ground, wincing as his head hit the dirt. Keith kicked the sword from his hand, then hovered over his pliant body, surprise on his usually impassive face. He pointed his sword at Lotor’s jugular and called for his concession.

Swallowing, Lotor looked around, then down at the blade at his throat. He must have known Keith wouldn’t hurt him, but the sight seemed to scare him all the same. He’d rarely been in this position in his life, now had he? And the sudden appearance of it must have opened up some sort of crisis in his brain.

“I concede,” Lotor said, his voice shaking, then Keith lowered his sword and offered a hand up.

Surprisingly enough, Lotor accepted, though, once standing on his feet, he fled immediately, not looking back. Keith didn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because, almost immediately afterward, he felt someone tackle into his side.

“Oh my gods, Keith! You did it!” Lance practically shouted in his ear. Keith was stunned, momentarily, by the sudden closeness, and it must have shown on his face because, when Lance looked at him, their faces mere centimeters apart, he stopped short, eyes widening and sucking in a breath. Lance backed away very quickly. “Sorry.”

But Keith just laughed. “That’s alright.”

That was when he heard the crowd around him, all cheering and rushing in with congratulations. Pidge and Hunk were there too, whooping and hollering, and Keith felt a smile grow on his face.

Then, everything stopped. The crowd shushed around him, and they all ceased approaching, suddenly looking wide-eyed. Some were excited, some looked confused others pointed somewhere overhead.

Keith glanced toward Lance, but he was frozen too, looking somewhere above.

Keith looked too.

“Oh,” he breathed, the glowing sigil a dull pulsing glow in the midafternoon sun. Around him, campers started to kneel, as was custom. He watched as they all lowered themselves, like a great wave. Hunk and Pidge knelt, the nymph, sending him a thumbs up when they saw his gaze. He saw, towards the back of the crowd, Shiro approach and kneel, holding a fist to his chest as he watched on in pride. Keith saw so many of his friends from the Hermes’ cabin there, including Romelle, and Allura next to her too.

And he saw Lance, at the front and still closest to him, kneel with a reassuring smile and a nod of his head. Chiron wasn’t present, so Lance seemed to take it upon himself to do the honors.

“All Hail,” he said, voice strong and carrying over the throngs of people, “Keith Kogane, son of Nemesis.”

[unlikely-allies]

****SPOILERS****

4/5

Now 14 years old, Percy has been aware of his demigod status for two years and is finally starting to get the hang of it. Unfortunately, it is a bad time to be a hero in training. Kronos is growing more powerful and half-blood have joined his cause or have simply gone missing. Chiron has put the satyrs on red alert, sending them all out to scout for new half-bloods. When Grover believes that he has found two new demigods at a boarding school in Maine, Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth head up to assist him. The half-bloods, a brother and sister named Nico and Biance di Angelo, are being hunted by a manticore disguised as the school’s vice principal. During the battle against the monster, Artemis and her Hunters appear to assist, but Annabeth is stolen away by Luke and his minions. The Hunters had been tracking a great monster when they came across Percy and his friends. Artemis decides to continue on in the pursuit and sends her Hunters with the half-bloods to stay at Camp Half-Blood until her return.

Bianca and Nico are orphans. When Zoe, Artemis’ lieutenant, offers Bianca a place among the Hunters, Bianca is quick to join and get away from her big sister duties. In honor of the Hunters’ arrival at camp, Chiron announces that there will be a special game of capture the flag held. Thalia and Percy agree to be co-captains, but Thalia does her best to take charge. That night, Percy has a nightmare involving Annabeth being in danger. Zoe has a similar dream about Artemis. Chiron decides that a quest will be taken and chooses Zoe to meet with the Oracle. The prophecy given to Zoe is as follows:

“Five shall go west to the goddess in chains, One shall be lost in the land without rain, The bane of Olympus shows the trail, Campers and Hunters combined prevail, The Titan’s curse must one withstand, And one shall perish by a parent’s hand.”

Zoe chooses two additional Hunters, Phoebe and Bianca, and then two campers, Thalia and Grover to makeup the quest team. Zoe will not permit Percy to go because he is a boy. Phoebe falls victim to a prank by the Stoll brothers, but Zoe doesn’t want to choose another person to replace her and the team sets off without a fifth member. Percy decides to follow the team using Annabeth’s invisibility hat, and Nico makes him promise that he will try to protect Bianca.

In Washington D.C., Percy discovers that Luke and the General know that the quest team is near and have sent a monster after them. Luke is trying to have Thalia separated from the others so that he can bring her over to his side. Percy reveals his presence to the quest team to warn them, but Percy and the team still end up having to battle the Nemean Lion. In speaking with Bianca, it is revealed that she and Nico should be older than they appear. Roughly 70 years ago, Bianca and Nico were told that their parents had died and were brought to stay at the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The children believed that they stayed for only a short period of time. In reality, 70 years passed, thought the children had not aged. Someone picked up the children and brought them to the boarding school in Maine, and that’s where Grover found them. Oddly, no one asks for more information about this.

The team arrives in New Mexico, where Aphrodite comes to meet with Percy. She claims to be very invested in the Percy-and-Annabeth love story that has yet to unfold. She claims that she is responsible for the Stoll brother’s prank on Phoebe, which allowed for Percy to be the fifth member of the quest. She also warns the half-bloods to be careful in Hephaestus’ land and not to take anything from his junkyard. In passing through the junkyard the quest team admires the objects that the gods have thrown away. Unfortunately, Bianca tries to take a figure to give to Nico and the team is attacked by the giant figure Talos. Bianca makes up for her mistake by climbing inside the figure and destroying it, but she is lost in the process.

Even with the loss of Bianca, the team knows that they must push ahead. It is revealed that Luke and the General are searching for the Ophiotaurus, a cow-serpent sea creature that when sacrificed bestows the power to destroy the gods. Ironically, Percy had saved the Ophiotaurus when it was caught in a net at camp, and the creature followed him across the country. Grover agrees to take the Ophiotaurus back to camp while the others continue on the quest. The team tracks Artemis and Annabeth to the Mountain of Despair, which is currently located in San Francisco. Thalia suggests that they borrow Annabeth’s father’s car to travel to the mountain, so Percy and Thalia get to meet the man with which Annabeth has such a complicated relationship. Mr. Chase agrees to help them, and it is clear that he misses Annabeth.

Zoe reveals that the Mountain of Despair was her home before she became a Hunter. Zoe was once one of the Hesperides, daughters of Atlas and guardians of a sacred tree. Zoe was exiled for helping Hercules, and since then she has been wary of heroes. When they arrive at the Mountain, Artemis is struggling under the weight of the sky, having taken the burden from Annabeth who had been tricked into taking it from Luke. The General is revealed to be Atlas, and Percy and Zoe face off against Zoe’s father. When it is clear that he and Zoe won’t be able to beat Atlas, Percy takes the weight of the sky from Artemis so that the goddess may fight him instead. During the battle, Artemis forces Atlas back under the weight of the sky. Unfortunately, Zoe succumbs to her wounds. Artemis rushes to Mount Olympus to attend the Winter Solstice Council where the gods will vote about taking action against Kronos. Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth also attend the council to argue against killing the Ophiotaurus, which while alive continues to pose a threat to the gods. To ensure that she will not be the child of the prophecy, Thalia agrees to join Artemis’ Hunters, and Poseidon prevents the other gods from killing the Ophiotaurus and Percy.  

Back at camp, Percy tells Nico about what happened to Bianca. Nico is furious and blames Percy for his sister’s death. When some of Luke’s soldiers appear, Nico causes the ground to split open and the soldiers fall into the chasm before Nico turns and sprints away from camp. Grover, Annabeth, and Percy discuss what to do about Nico and that fact that he is obviously a child of Hades. Given that Nico and Bianca were born more than 70 years ago, their existence doesn’t technically break the oath between the Big Three, but it does provide another contender for the prophecy.

The Titan’s Curse by Rick Riordan contains the first really sad moments in the series. This adds additional layers to the story and makes it more compelling for older readers. As Kronos continues to rise to power and the epic battle draws closer, each book is packed with more action and higher stakes. Thalia taking herself out of contention for the prophecy would’ve reduced some of the drama because we can more or less count on Percy to do the right thing. However, introducing Nico di Angelo and giving him a great deal of rage at a young age may up the stakes even higher than before.

Annabeth and Percy’s relationship has been strictly platonic up until this point Aphrodite’s conversation with mercy hints that it will become something more, but it has been endearing to watch the relationship grow as the two of them get older. The fact that Annabeth is/was considering joining the Hunters casts the future of their relationship in uncertainty, and makes the reader more emotionally invested in the one of them finally realizing their feelings for the other and acting on them. As much as I am suppose to be upset that Thalia joins the Hunters, I really can’t be. I found Thalia to be annoying and conceited. She treats everyone as though they are below her and can’t stop and consider the opinions of others when making a plan or taking action. Her last stand on Half-Blood Hill ends up looking less like a selfless act and more like typical Thalia refusing to let others share her spotlight.

The addition of characters like Thalia and Zoe that aren’t immediately likable but aren’t villains also added more depth to the story. The Titan’s Curse may not have been my favorite adventure, but in terms of reading quality I believe that it was the best book in the series so far. For this reason I am looking forward to seeing how the remaining books in the series continue to evolve.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

A Definitely Incomplete List Of My Favorite Moments From The Lightning Thief (book), because I'm having Feelings

Percy very causally mentioning times he accidentally hit a school bus with a canon or dropped fifth graders into shark-infested water

Grover Underwood

Just everything he’s ever done

Percy running an illegal candy ring out of his dorm room 

“I was worried they found out I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the internet and were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.”

When Percy thought Grover was going to give him some deep, meaningful commentary on life to make him feel better but Grover just wanted Percy’s lunch

Percy tried so hard to do well on his Latin final and Chiron somehow thinks it’s a good idea to tell him he’s ‘not normal’ in front of the class my poor boy

That one part where Percy essentially went “Oh hey mom’s home!!! Better reschedule this panic attack I was having!!” 

When Percy did that weird hand sign (that was never explained) and the door slammed on Gabe so hard he flew up the steps

The fact that when Grover finally tracked Percy down he wasn’t wearing any pants. Like, there was literally no reason for him to not have the fake feet and the jeans on. No actual reason for him to be free balling it. Percy just needed a shock apparently. Showing up in the middle of a hurricane with no pants, dramatic ass satyr I love him. 

The SATISFYING DEATH of Gabe’s Camaro + Sally apparently learned bullfighting just in case because she truly is the best mom

Percy killing the minotaur with its own horn

Percy dragging Grover over the camp line while crying for his mom literally end me

“You drool when you sleep.” could we get more iconic here

Percy teasing Annabeth about her crush on Luke

When Luke stole some toiletries for Percy and he got a little choked up because it was apparently the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him

The fact that Chiron basically told Annabeth that Percy was her destiny

The fact that a recovering alcoholic god of wine who hates children was deemed fit to run a camp for children

Not so fun: Percy, upon meeting Mr. D, immediately recognizing the signs of an alcoholic and going out of his way to sit far away from him ‘just in case’

The fact that everyone just expected him to hear ‘the greek gods are real’ and move on?? why would no one let this boy be in shock omg

Zeus apparently had a thing for the fluffy 80′s hairstyles

“the real world is where the monsters are” 

The fact that Poseidon could have claimed Percy at literally any moment but he apparently decided he really needed that dramatic reveal during capture the flag.

When Zeus was feeling Extra Dramatic(tm) after Percy’s claiming so he started making it rain inside the camp boarders and everyone was lowkey freaking out

When Annabeth pulls off her invisible cap and declares she’s going on the quest with him and Percy was like, beyond unsurprised that she was there and didn’t even attempt to fight her 

Chiron forgot to give Percy a sword from his father for like, an entire month. 

Grover with those freaking flying shoes oh my God

Annabeth blushing literally any time Luke talks to her 

IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT ARGUS, HEAD OF CAMP SECURITY

lmao when Percy and Annabeth start bickering about something and Argus just winks at Percy because he knows

When they were playing hackey sack with an apple but it got too close to Grover’s mouth and he just ate the whole thing

The entire bus scene oh my God

“I was about to become the ADHD Poster Child of the Year” as he’s CRASHING A BUS

Annabeth on a fury’s back 

the explosion. just. all gr8. 

When Grover tries to play a path finder song and Percy just immediately slams into a tree. Also the fact that the path finder song was actually just a Hillary Duff number. 

“You two are giving me a migraine, and satyr's don’t even get migraines!” 

Percy actually, truly trying to sell the story that the three of them are circus orphans who got separated from their ringleader 

Grover: hey guys this place is REALLY SHADY and we need to leave

Annabeth and Percy: but f o o d

Can you imagine walking into a store and finding your dead uncle’s body on display? Like????

When Medusa revealed herself and Annabeth’s running around invisible, Percy’s swinging a sword blindly and Grover’s flying around screaming and trying to whack her with a stick: everyone here is a MESS

When Annabeth was overly annoyed with Percy after that ordeal??? Sweetheart you fell for the trick too

Name something more iconic than 12 year old Percy Jackson mailing the decapitated head of Medusa to the gods on Mt. Olympus in an act of sheer pettiness. I dare you. 

When Percy was insisting on taking first watch while the others slept and Grover was basically like “hey kiddo listen to this” and played a song that immediately knocked him out so he could sleep all night 

“Percy. Say hello to the poodle.”

Percy seeing all the Greek creatures from the train window 

When Annabeth was dragging the boys to the St. Louis Arch and Percy’s claustrophobic ass Did Not Want To Get In That Tiny Elevator but he went anyway because he wanted Annabeth to be happy. That boy has had it bad since the start. 

“I am Echidna!”

“Isn’t...isn’t that a type of anteater?”

“I HATE AUSTRALIA.” 

How many times has Percy actually been poisoned throughout all the series I literally want a count 

‘Lemme just, uh....jump off the fucking St. Louis Arch and hope I don’t die when I hit the water.’

There is just something very aesthetic about Percy lighting a fire in the bottom of a river 

Percy’s got so much pent-up rage that he’s just immediately ready to wreck Ares upon meeting him omfg

THE THRILL RIDE O’ LOVE

Annabeth getting so worked up and flustered over going down there with Percy because it’s a love ride and Percy’s just like “you literally do not have to make this a Thing” lmao

Annabeth wouldn’t let Percy touch Aphrodite’s scarf because she didn’t want him getting infected by love magic but then...touched it herself lol

The entire sequence with the mechanical spiders and the cameras and the ride itself 

Percy’s plan to get off the ride!!!! He’s so smart okay can people stop calling him stupid!!! 

Grover trying to catch them both in mid-air but they‘re too heavy so the three of them just kind of slowly crash into one of those face-cut-out posters lol

Percy, turning to the camera’s broadcasting this shit on Olympus: “Show’s over! Thank You! Goodnight!” 

THE FUCKING ZOO BUS

Everything about that scene omg. The animals they had to help. Trying to convince Grover of how great he is. The baby percabeth. my h e a r t

“What if it does line up like the Trojan War? Athena versus Poseidon?”

“I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll be fighting next to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain, any more stupid questions?”

Do you hear that sound? That’s me, ages 13-21(+) sobbing uncontrollably oh my God I love them so much

‘let’s just set a fucking lion loose in Las Vegas’ 

“I put a Blessing of the Wild on them, so they’ll safely find food and shelter wherever they go.”

“Why can’t you put on of those on us?”

“It only works on wild animals.”

“So it would only effect Percy...”

“HEY!” 

When they get to the Lotus hotel and Grover starts playing that game where the deer shoot the hunters azxjhnhdjx

Percy physically having to drag his friends out of there once he realized it was the lair of the lotus eaters

When Annabeth gave the taxi driver her lotus credit card and he started calling her “Your Highness” lmao

Every time in this book Percy comes close to uncovering a Dark Truth the people around him are just like “let’s not worry about that :) “ and my polite boy actually shuts up it’s so wild because I would just keep going lol

CRUSTY THE WATER BED SALESMAN 

Listen that entire scene has lowkey always been one of my Favs and I’m not even sure why but Percy chopping his head off was g r e a t

The entrance to the Underworld is DOA Recording Studios and I love it

“We, uh...all drowned in a bathtub.”

Poor Charon just wants his Italian suits he doesn’t need all this bullshit 

Grover almost getting dragged into Tartarus: not good. very bad. bad shit. 

Annabeth getting emotionally attached to Cerberus in the span of 3 minutes: RELATABLE 

‘huh my backpack that I thought I got rid of five days ago is getting weirdly heavy, that’s not suspicious though, right?’ 

When Hades just starts monologue-ing about all the shit he has to put up with

“what kind of awful things do you have to do to get sewn into Hades underwear?” p e r c y

when Percy realizes the Master Bolt is in his backpack and he’s just like. tell me why. why. I’m a good person. what did I DO. 

When Percy has to sacrifice his mom to get Annabeth and Grover out of there I Cri Evey Tiem 

My cute lil’ baby yelling around on a beach to get Ares to show up 

ahdbsjznx when Grover gives Percy a crushed, half eaten tin can for good like and Percy is just like “Grover...I don’t know what to say.” I LOVE HIM

My sweet son kicking the god of war’s ass. bless. blessed on this day. 

The news crews who suddenly started backtracking and writing Percy as a hero 

Percy, choking back tears, giving Gabe’s store’s phone number out on national television and promising everyone free appliances IM STILL CACKLING I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH HE’S ICONIC 

Hades actually releasing Sally because he’s Not As Big Of A Dick As He Could Have Been 

Percy: hey I think there’s a really good chance that Kronos was behind this whole mess-

Zeus and Poseidon: XXX KRONOS DO NOT INTERACT XXX

Poseidon rolling his eyes at literally everything Zeus says and does

Poseidon and Percy’s whole talk omg my sweet boy just wants his dad to love him and Poseidon’s trying to figure out how to show affection when he basically signed this kid’s death sentence I’m crying 

A man will never satisfy me as much or in the same way as Sally Jackson murdering Gabe Ugliano did 

Percy was spending months of summer stressing over who the friend that’s supposed to betray him was but like...Sweetie you had exactly three (3) friends and you knew two of them weren’t gonna hurt you

ahbdjsnx when Percy and Luke were having their conversation in the woods and like Luke’s acting shady af the whole time but it’s literally not until he litters that Percy is like “something...is Wrong.” this boy I s2g

Percy getting bit by a scorpion is Not A Favorite Moment but the nymphs helping him out was 

Percy making his Official Decision to go home for the school year only after Annabeth reveals that he actually did talk her into trying again with her family 

I didn’t mean to write out a summary of the whole damn book it’s six am listen I’m just feeling nostalgia for the original series in this chili’s tonight 

whoops

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Fic

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount? 26 fics, which is a million times better than my nine from last year, so I’m counting it as a win! 59,441 words, so clearly all of those 1-2k fics added up.

Fic Roundup!

1. Piece From a Satyr Play | Star Wars | Reylo | 141 words

Her hair is done up in white ribbons, three enormously lopsided buns trailing down the back of her neck.

2. Wasted Early Sunday Morning | Star Wars | Reylo | 434 words

Her skin is smoother than his, smoother than many of the people that he’s touched in his life, and he aches to touch it now, watching her stretch lazily in the early morning sunlight, spine arching like a cats.

3. Cosmic Love | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep | 786 words

There’s solid matter under the palm of his hand, a beating pulse, and a heart to go with it. A living person that Rodney thought that they’d lost.

4. can’t help but be wrong in the dark | The Flash | Barry/Julian | 2,942 words

The day that Allen had snarled an insult back in response to one of Julian’s cutting remarks, he’d gone home and fisted his cock furiously, thinking about the slant of Allen’s mouth and how it would look smeared with come. How Allen’s hair would feel, knotted in Julian’s fingers as he fucked his mouth.

5. eat flowers, breathe light | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep |1585 words

John gives Rodney a dreamy smile, swaying slightly towards him, and says, “You have really beautiful eyes, you know that?”

6. Bifurcation Theory | Teen Wolf | Stiles/Derek/Lydia | 7208 words

Lydia sucks in another shaky breath, trying to think of a polite way to explain that she’s sorry, that this was a mistake, and she didn’t mean to bother him. Just as she’s opening her mouth, Derek sighs gustily, the sound breaking apart with static in her ear. “What’s Stiles done now?” he asks, his tone resigned.

7. Ain’t At Home (Home’s Where I’m Going) | Horizon Zero Dawn | Aloy/Everyone |  6857 words

“Not all comforts are bad,” Vala whispers, and Aloy shudders apart.

8. love, can’t protect you now | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep | 1635 words

“When they come,” Rodney tells him quietly, “I won’t kill you.”

9. Say You’ll Be There | The Flash | Barry/Iris, Barry/Thawne | 1159 words

Barry swallows, fingers tangling with hers, and says, “Storms make me think of him.”

10. it’s warm, this skin i’m living in | SGA | Rodney/John | 1,170 words

When he is thirty-seven years old, John Sheppard thinks about the universe.

11. it’s good to be in love, it really does suit you | KH | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,694 words

“We’ve done dangerous before.” Sora shrugs. “Getting a mortgage was dangerous, but we did it anyway.”

12. a hazy shade of winter | Stranger Things | Steve/Nancy/Jonathan | 1,863 words

In November, they build a tree house.

13. can’t deny your appetite | SGA | Mcshep | 4,031 words

John finds out that there’s a vampire in Atlantis the day after they’ve stepped through the gate.

He finds out that the vampire in question is Rodney McKay four weeks later, when they’re all hunkered down in the yawning shadow of some crumbling ruins and Rodney looks at him, his eyes eerily bright in the darkness, sees the blood on John’s face, and says, “Oh.”

14. caught off guard by you | FFXV | Prompto/Noctis | 1,671 words  

“I just got you back,” Prompto says quietly, words muffled into the curve of Noctis’s neck.

15. take me to church | Teen Wolf | Sterek |3,129 words  

Derek scoffs. “You want to take me back to Quantico.”

16. how to be eaten by a woman | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,350 words

“So why don’t you do it?” he asks, breathless. His chest is heaving, his mouth open, gasping for breath.

“Do what?” Rey asks, and thinks about biting his mouth.

The corners of his lips tick upwards. Kylo squints at her, half-smiling. “That.”

17. move the stars for no one | SGA/Labyrinth | Mcshep | 3,049 words

“You have no power over me,” Rodney whispers, just to see the way that the Goblin King’s eyes narrow - how he steps closer, until his narrow hips are pressed up against the footboard.

He slouches in towards Rodney, sways toward him, his clever eyes hooded, and smiles like he’s won something. Asks, “You sure about that?”

18. is this love? | SW | Reylo | 4,013 words

“It’s okay,” her brother tells her on their wedding night, lowering himself to sit on the floor beside her, until his nose is level with her shaking knees. When he smiles, he looks like a monster. “You don’t have to love me.”

Then he goes to sleep on the couch, taking only a threadbare pillow from their marriage bed.

19. rise again | SGA/SW/Dishonored | Rey, Emily, and John Sheppard | 952 words

“You’re Emily Kaldwin.” A pause. “You are, aren’t you?”

Emily blows out a loud sigh, giving him an annoyed look, as if he’s to blame for the fact that she’s the most recognizable face in all the Isles. “Might be.”

“Huh,” the girl says, and takes a seat right there on the floor. “I’m Rey.”

20. i hope you’ll be happy, miss tara joan | SGA | Rodney/John, original child character | 360 words

They turn off John’s life support on a Thursday.

21. blue lips, blue veins | Voltron | Keith & Allura | 655 words

“I am not,” he says stubbornly, “kissing you awake.”

22. jewel of the south | Dishonored/Star Wars | Corvo & Rey | 686 words

The girl watches him warily, hunkered down in a nest of blankets in the corner. She’s a squatter, that much is obvious from her thin, patched clothing and the general disrepair of the apartment that Corvo’s found himself in. He blinks around, eyes lighting on a sofa, a desk, a couple rat-gnawed shoes.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor,” she says flatly, her eyes heavy on him.

“I’m bleeding all over your balcony,” he corrects, and wavers hard enough that his other leg gives out from under him. “And I’m mostly sure that it isn’t yours.”

23. when the autumn moon is bright | SGA | Mcshep | 2,881 words

There weren’t, strictly speaking, supposed to be wolves in Atlantis.

24. hard and heavy, dirty and mean | Stranger Things | Steve/Billy | 2,846 words

“Remember,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, his breath hot. “You wanted this.”

25. I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus | SGA | Mcshep | 3,855 words

Rodney can’t see much about the man inside of the Santa costume from where he’s standing, the wig and beard hides what the suit doesn’t, but there’s something in his mannerisms that makes Rodney feel a spark of familiarity. He swallows and is still trying to puzzle it out when the Santa finishes with the little girl and turns their way.

John Sheppard looks back out at Rodney from behind a fuzzy white Santa beard, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as they shift from Rodney to Charlie and then back again.

Jesus - fucking - Christ.

26.  The Yawning Grave | Star Wars | Gen, Possible Reylo | 2,489 words | WIP

does the skywalker choose the path, or the path the skywalker? [or: the sabriel au that no one asked for]

Best story I wrote this year: take me to church, hands down. Coming back to Sterek, after two years away felt like coming home. Stepping back into Stiles and Derek’s world, into their feelings for each other, was an amazing experience. I miss them, and I love them still, and the story that I gave myself the chance to write was dreamy and quiet, and just so entirely conveys the feel that I wanted to achieve this year.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. Probably a toss up between  is this love?,  take me to church, and move the stars for no one. Those were the fics that I felt most at home in, the ones that came easily and quietly, like stepping into a comfy robe.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. hard and heavy, dirty and mean comes in first at 992 kudos, 12,356 hits, and 228 bookmarks. I had the good fortune of posting it right after Stranger Things 2 came out, so it got nearly as much traffic as the fic that I wrote last year for the Stranger Things fandom. It is entirely filthy locker room porn between Steve and the latest asshole to be introduced to the high school, and basically exactly the itch that I needed scratched after watching the season. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I’m, um. Maybe a little bit put out that I published the first chapter of  The Yawning Grave, and it’s only gotten seven kudos. I mean, it’s a prologue, and I made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t sure when the next three chapters would be out, but it was still a little bit of a downer, considering how long I’ve been fretting about the fic itself.

Most fun story to write: jewel of the south was super fun to write, but I tend to have fun with all of my crossover prompts. Imagining Rey in the Dishonored universe (twice!) was great fun, and I would totally do it again. I’m going to pretend that this isn’t tickling the portion of my brain that wants to write a Reylo AU where Rey is the street orphan in Karnaca that Empress Ben Organa runs into when he’s on the run. Don’t think that way, Heather.

Story that could have been better? I think that all of my fics could be better in certain ways, and the day that I don’t feel that way I’ll have gotten too conceited to live. I think the one that bugs me the most is one that I haven’t even published yet. Because I hit a snag with the plot and can’t decide if I feel like going back and changing everything or if there’s a handy work around. If we aren’t counting this one, caught off guard by you was the Prompto/Noctis tragic love story that was supposed to be two or three times as large as it is now, and also feature tent sex.

Story I wrote to fix things: take me to church and Bifurcation Theory. The first I wrote because I received a prompt regarding Derek and Stiles around the time that the first episode of the last season aired. I didn’t watch it, but I did see the scene where Stiles does a literal spit-take upon seeing a shirtless Derek on screen in his FBI class. My brain basically went, ‘huh, they’re gonna fuck it up’ and so I just went for it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s canon.

The second I wrote after I’d reluctantly let myself watch season 6. 6A? Whatever. I was pretty intrigued by the idea of Stiles being taken and forgotten, and I don’t mind Stydia, so I watched it and Bifurcation Theory is basically what I wanted to happen.

Longest completed fic this year: Bifurcation Theory, at 7k. So, you know. Not particularly long at all.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I actually had a lot of fun dipping my toes into the Stargate Atlantis fandom this year. The people are all really great, and I wish that I’d been around for the old days. Alas, I was up to my eyeballs in anime and Kingdom Hearts.

Favorite character you wrote this year: Toss up between Lydia and Rodney. I like both of their brains, for - weirdly - a lot of the same reasons. Lydia in Bifurcation Theory felt comfortable. A lot of the fic itself is full of tropes that I love. Angst, road trips, little food places that are entirely based off of cafes that I frequent, two people having sex because they’re pining after a third. And Lydia herself is strong and soft and just. I really like writing girls, and Lydia is one of my favorites.

Rodney is just easy.

Most memorable comment this year: Basically every comment that I got on take me to church? Some people welcomed me back to the fandom, others made comments on exactly what I wanted them to feel about the fic - slow, sleepy, and according to one reviewer, tired, but hopeful. I wanted them to be able to feel the atmosphere of the fic above all else, from the quiet echo of the church to that southern sun shower to the shitty apartment. I even had someone comment on the little town in North Carolina that I used as the setting, so all of them were a delight.

Also, I feel the need to say that @popkin16 has some of the best comments and every time I publish a Mcshep fic I eagerly wait in the hopes of a comment from her. They make me really happy.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

Okay, but I’ve written so little compared to what I’ve wanted to. The Sabriel AU is definitely at the top of this list, though I’m hoping to fix that soon. I have the SGA fic where John is a wraith, the SGA fic where John is dead and Rodney is raising his kid, the Enjolras/Grantaire fic, the roadtrip/beach fic that never got written because I couldn’t figure out if I wanted it to be Voltron, Kingdom Hearts, or SGA, the long ass Dishonored fic that spans all three games and basically centers around the idea that the Outsider, Corvo, and Emily come together as the most dysfunctional family ever, the prompt-fics that I started but never finished, the Beetlejuice AU, the girl Cisco AU, the bodyswapping Reylo fic... and those are just ones that I liked enough to jot a sentence or two down somewhere.

Oddest story: Probably move the stars for no one. I mean... it is a fic where John Sheppard is the goblin king. Though   I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus was a little crackier than I usually get. Hardest story to do: Hah, my answer to this question last year was the Sabriel AU. That... is still at least slightly true, though the wraith John AU has been a pain in my ass and isn’t even out yet. Of those that I did actually publish this year, caught off guard by you which gave me so much trouble that I eventually just published it as is. Fortunately, a lot of the fic that I wrote this year were little things that niggled their way into my brain, so they came naturally. I didn’t do any challenges or secret santas or big bangs, so I didn’t have to force myself to write anything. Easiest story to write? Again, a lot of them sort of wrote themselves since they came out of my brain mostly formed already. can’t deny your appetite was probably one of the easiest, as were all of the ones that I’ve already mentioned on here. take me to church was pretty high up there.

Most mining of your own history in one story: take me to church and Bifurcation Theory, probably. For the first one, I spent a lot of time in chuches as a kid, a lot of time in cars, and well, the entirety of my childhood in the south. Stiles’ apartment is also completely based off of my last apartment. Well. The building anyway. I had two other roommates and a lot more furniture in my actual apartment, but the layout is all the same.

The vegan cafe that Lydia and Derek stop at is based off of Cornerstone Cafe in Columbus, right down to the probably-gay teal haired kid and the pretty college girl who checks out Lydia. I’m pretty sure there are other bits I’ve borrowed, but that’s the one that stands out.

Oh! Also, it’s good to be in love, it really does suit you. There’s... a whole lot of domestic mumbo jumbo in that. Also, weed smoking on what is an exact replica of my back porch. Actually, scratch that, upon rereading this I realize that it is also an exact replica of my house, minus the weird clock. The table holding Riku’s moon flowers holds my bougainvillea and a couple of my coffee plants in real life. Mickey-the-cat is not mine, but he is based off of BMO, who is. Looking back on it, I’m actually 100% sure that what inspired this entire fic was coming home from work and watching the fireflies with Nick on our back deck. We have a really dense knot of trees surrounding our backyard, and the fireflies are NUTS in the summer. It’s really gorgeous back there.

Themes, or absence thereof: Atmosphere. Feeling-the-fic. Slow, quiet love and burn-you-up passion. Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: Sigh. Fingers crossed that I’ll get the Sabriel AU out at least. Though this question has reminded me that I wanted to finish the Carmilla AU as well.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “Did he ever fuck you?”

“Yes,” Derek gasps, a ragged catch to his voice. Her smile grows and then carefully, she crawls off of him, leaving him blinking at her blankly.

“Good,” she whispers, and hitches her knee invitingly. “So you can fuck me how he fucked you.”

He blinks at her and for a moment she thinks that she may have broken him, but then he’s surging into motion, pinning her to the bed, and sliding home in one smooth movement. She gasps, head thrown back against the pillows, and wraps her legs around his waist. They hold like that, both trembling, sweat on their skin and the smell of sex heavy in the air. His lips hover over hers, so close that if either of them moved even an inch they would drag together, his breath hot against her lips. His eyes dart down to her lips before they jerk back up to her eyes.

“Does that mean I should kiss you how he kissed me?” Derek asks, his voice wrecked, and she whimpers, high and desperate.

“Yes,” she breathes, wetting her lips. “Please.”

(or)

“Who else has been touching you like that, Harrington?” Billy whispers, his lips catching on the curve of Steve’s ear. He licks his lips, tongue flicking out like a snake, like he’s tasting Steve. Like he wants to eat him. “Was it your daddy?”

Steve’s heart is pounding, adrenaline singing in his veins. He’s let this go on too long, has all but given Billy the advantage here - Steve's let himself be backed up against the shower, the handle digging into his lower back.

With a sigh, Steve finally opens his eyes and looks at him.

Billy is standing too close, fully clothed and soaked to the bone, his own hair damp from the spray. The only thing he seems to have thought to take off is his jean jacket, which has been flung thoughtlessly at the benches behind them. His shirt is near translucent against his chest. When he sees Steve looking, he grins, touching the purpling bruise that hasn’t quite faded from Steve’s lower lip.

“Now this one I remember giving you,” he remarks, pressing in closer, until his head is under the spray too, tilted towards Steve.

Steve’s breath hitches and he tries to backpedal, going up on his tiptoes when he finds that there’s no more ground to give. The handle digs painfully into his lower back, but he can’t be bothered to care. He gasps as the hand cups his jaw, Billy’s fingers lingering over another bruise before they begin to skitter down the column of his throat.

Billy grins at him and leans down, pressing a strangely gentle kiss to a fist-shaped bruise at the base of his throat.

“You wear them well,” he whispers, lips slick against Steve’s skin.

Crackiest moment (excerpt): “Dinner should be ready around then,” he says with a shrug, and realizes with an abrupt, sinking sensation that Charlie is going to think that he’s inviting Santa Claus to dinner with them. “I’m uh, shit, here.”

His cheeks go ruddy with embarrassment as he rummages through his bag and comes up with an uncapped green pen and a pad of crinkled yellow paper. He quickly scrawls their address across it before tearing it off the pad and shoving it John’s way. Jesus fucking Christ, the entire food court just watched him set up a date with Santa.

“I, um,” Rodney says, becoming increasingly aware of the surge of noise coming from the disgruntled soccer moms waiting in line. He cringes, dragging Charlie down a few steps. “I’ll just see you later. Maybe.”

He trips on the rug once he reaches the landing, but catches himself on a reindeer before he can go sprawling into the nearby fountain. His face is on fire, but when he looks back up, John Sheppard is smiling down at him, fond and horribly, achingly familiar.

Favorite dialogue (excerpt): “Come on,” Stiles says, pushing to his feet. He turns once he’s up and grabs Derek’s hand, yanking him upright before Derek can think to protest. “I’ve got a place.”

Derek looks at him, his nose wrinkling dubiously. “You have a place in Murfreesboro?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow back, refusing to give ground. “I have a place in Virginia. It’s like, a three hour drive, tops. Less if I speed.”

Derek scoffs. “You want to take me back to Quantico.”

“I’m an intern, Derek. Pretty sure they’re not going to go looking for you under my mattress. Come on,” he coaxes, jostling Derek with his elbow. “You know how this works, we’ve done it before. Safest place to be is right under their nose.”

“This is a little bigger than hiding in the closet every once in awhile so your father doesn’t notice that you're harboring a fugitive, Stiles,” Derek tells him. He shuffles backwards, but Stiles follows him, always a little too close. When Stiles refuses to look chastised Derek reaches out and grabs hold of his wrist, stopping him at arm’s length. He swallows. “We aren’t talking about you getting kicked out of your program if they find me. You’ll go to prison.”

Stiles watches him, his eyes dark. Knowing. He takes a pointed step forward, always pushing, and turns his wrist in Derek’s grip. He’s still watching as he threads their fingers together carefully, his palm a dry rasp against Derek’s.

“I know,” he whispers, and leans in to press their mouths together.

(or)

“You have no power over me,” Rodney whispers, just to see the way that the Goblin King’s eyes narrow - how he steps closer, until his narrow hips are pressed up against the footboard. He reaches out, curling long, elegant fingers around the cold metal rungs between them, and though he hisses out low through his teeth when he finds the sting of iron waiting for him, he does not look away.

John is a looming figure in the shadows, a slash of moonlight thrown across his face illuminating the smirk that sits there. He slouches in towards Rodney, sways toward him, his clever eyes hooded, and smiles like he’s won something. Asks, “You sure about that?”

“No,” Rodney admits and pushes himself up. The cracked saucer is in John’s hand, empty. Rodney licks his lips. “Not at all.”

“I love you,” he offers quietly. It’s the only secret he has left.

John cocks his head, letting go of the bars and coming around the side of the bed. He is human enough, save the glint of gold in his collar and the slight sharpness of his teeth. He smells real, and absurdly, Rodney wants to dance with him.

“Nothing is freely given,” John says, but it sounds like a question. There isn’t an apology in his eyes, but Rodney hadn’t expected there to be one. The empty saucer in his hand was proof enough.

Rodney shrugs. “Your rules, not mine.”

Favorite lines (excerpt): It’s raining when they leave the church, a warm downpour that leaves everything smelling of green things and wet earth. The sun is still shining, giving the parking lot a strange, otherworldly air. Stiles squints out into the glare, mashing the button on his key fob until an anonymous black sedan honks back at them, the tail lights flashing red.

Stiles bounds across the parking lot, holding a hand over his head to ward off the rain. A hint of ankle winks back at Derek as he scrambles gracelessly into the driver’s seat. Derek follows at a more sedate pace, swinging by the car that he’d bought for a couple hundred bucks from a local hick’s junkyard. He grabs his bag from the back and the picture of Laura that he’s got pinned under the visor, but leaves the rest to rot in the parking lot. Someone will find it eventually.

When he climbs into the passenger seat he’s uncomfortably damp, but can’t bring himself to be troubled over it. He feels lighter than he has in months. Maybe years.

“What happened to the jeep?” Derek asks, dragging a careless hand across the unfamiliar dashboard. The jeep had reeked of Stiles, of junk food and sweat and a little like the cheap cherry-scented pine tree he had looped over the rear-view mirror. This car still smells new, fake leather and plastic, with the faintest undercurrent of boy.

“Left it with Scott,” Stiles says easily, sliding the key home and turning the ignition. It doesn’t even fight him for it. “It wouldn’t have made the trip.”

That was true enough. Derek watches the parking lot disappear from view, relaxing into his seat more and more as the minutes pass. Derek is tired. It's been days since he's felt safe enough to catch more than a few hours of sleep in his shitty car, head propped uncomfortably against the window. Here, with Stiles next to him, Derek’s body is finally beginning to cave in to the need for sleep.

He makes himself stay awake for awhile, long enough for Stiles to flick the radio over to some generic top 40’s station. He keeps it quiet, occasionally mouthing along to the words, but never once getting loud enough to be offensive. The third time that Derek jerks himself out of a light doze, Stiles turns to him incredulously and says, “For god’s sake, just go to sleep. I knew what I was signing up for when I saw those bags under your eyes.”

(or)

The first time that Rey sees her brother practice the art, she is being fitted for her wedding dress.

He is not strictly speaking supposed to be in the room with them, but none of the servants have quite worked out how to tell him to leave, and Rey doesn’t care one way or another herself. From her understanding, seeing the bride before the wedding makes for a bad match. It brings misfortune on the future household. Bad crops. Dead cattle. Some tales even say that it leads to an empty womb.

Let them be unlucky, Rey thinks with a sniff.

Her brother is reading, half-reclined on the settee to the left of the door, his leg crossed at the knee. It’s been well over an hour since he’s moved to do anything more strenuous than turn a page. Whatever lies within the book's pages has captivated him thoroughly, his mouth having gone ever so slightly slack as he mouths words to himself, black eyes intent.

The sun is beginning to set, the room growing long with shadows around them.

Rey is watching him when her brother flicks his wrist lazily, still absorbed in his book, and calls a ribbon of scarlet flame to the palm of his hand. It winds itself lovingly between his fingers, circling around and around his wrists, like some lazy beast.

Startled, Rey’s breath catches in her chest. Blinking, her brother looks up, catching her eye over the flame, the red glow casting him in a devilish light.

He cocks his head, and she wonders at his expression, the curiosity there as he unravels the flame outward, letting it find the wicks of the fat, ivory candles on the desk next to him. He quirks an eyebrow at her.

The room is still half in darkness, the last of the fading sunlight leaving them.

Rey licks her lips and steels her expression, flexing her fingers nervously before she raises her hands and cups them together. She doesn’t look away from him as she calls on her oldest friend, the familiar blue flame licking first over her knuckles and wrists, teasing, before it settles between her palms. She lights the rest of the room like that, and doesn’t pay any attention to the way the seamstress is fretting about Rey scorching the sleeves.

Her brother’s eyes are dark and intent on her, his book forgotten.

(or)

Rodney’s mark started out small, elegant slashes of color splashed across the meatiest part of his bicep. At the time, Rodney was six years old and didn’t much care for the idea of soulmates. There were cooler things than a bunch of blue paint on his arm, like black holes and the crowded, complicated mess of wiring inside his dad’s alarm clock. He’s going on nine when his mark changes, the familiar blues and greens and whites of sea and foam now a backdrop for the gleaming ferris wheel laid over top the waves, black lines on cool colors. He stares at it, lips pursed, and can’t for the life of him decide if he actually likes the new addition. When he’s thirteen the dark silhouette of a sleek, dangerous looking airplane is added to the mess. The plane itself is larger than the waves, larger than the ferris wheel, so long that the tip of it’s pointed nose touches the inside of his elbow. He grimaces at it, touching the curve of its broad back with one finger. It takes an hour of hunting through books at the library before he recognizes the shape of the SR-71 “Blackbird.” By the time Rodney’s fifteen, two more things have been added - a horse made out of shadows and edges, indistinct black smoke licking up the insides of his forearms and the mandelbrot set that sits neatly underneath it, an expanse of beautiful lines and inky dark that go clear down to his wrist. At fifteen years old, Rodney is significantly more interested in his soulmate than he was when he was six years old. He’s moved to America and is the top of his class at one of the most prestigious colleges in North America. He doesn’t like the majority of his peers and is beginning to realize that it’s entirely possible that he just doesn’t like people in general. He’s prickly, bad-tempered, and his ego has swelled to be the size of a small city. Whoever his soulmate is, she apparently likes the ocean, ferris wheels, planes, horses, and math. Rodney, who enjoys exactly one of those things, doesn’t have very high hopes.

Fic goals: I’m going to carefully not say anything about finishing the Sabriel AU, because that way lies madness. Instead I will say that in 2018 I would like to a) write something novel-length, b) write something original, and c) focus more on original characters. ....Additional goal: write over 60k.

[andtheniwrotemarvel]

Just Like Their Parents

Percy Jackson One-Shot

No reader

Word Count: 970

I wrote this a year ago in honor of my boy Percy Jackson’s birthday. A year ago. A year in which my writing has improved. Enjoy?

Rachel sat in her cave, still alone after all this time. Her walls were still white; she hadn't had the heart to paint after everything had happened. She'd painted layer after layer over the portrait of a certain god, who she blamed for the whole mess. The spot had been blacklisted, for sure.

She'd been had this job for twenty two years, but still looked 22, coincidentally. Just old enough that some of the oldest of the campers looked half a decade younger than her. No one really talked to her anymore unless they wanted a prophecy, and even then, it was as awkward as they decided to make it.

She'd had some friends among the Greek demigods, but they'd all passed on to Elysium or moved on to live lives outside of camp. They'd all promised to come back and visit, but they all had yet to follow through on that. She just had her blue plastic hairbrush, to which many campers fifteen years or so back had taken to calling the love of her life. Some Hecate kids had heard the tale of her chucking it at Kronos's eye, and insisted on enchanting it would that it would always hit its mark.

It had only been a few years before that that idiot Apollo had gotten her friends killed--Percy, Annabeth, Grover--and she'd never be able to forgive him for that. No one, save Chiron, gave Rachel a second thought as the camp grieved the loss of the demigods and the satyr.

Books had become one of her only sure friends, and she grew to love them more than the Athena cabin did. It was impressive how many books she burned through, and how many times she'd been through her personal library.

One might ask why she didn't just leave camp, if she was just so lonely. Chiron could always just give her a call if they needed a prophecy, right? It was true in some ways, but she'd acquired a scent of her own as the Oracle that monsters could trace. It wasn't safe for her. She stayed in the Big House during the winter, but no one bothered her there, either.

August 18th, 22 years after she had taken the spirit of the Oracle, her life began again. Two teenagers walked up to the entrance of her cave, bickering like an old married couple.

"Okay, Smart Alec, you're doing the talking from here on out," a boy stated comfortably

"Not a chance, Mush Head. We agreed that I would make our presence known, but you would be doing the talking," a girl fought back.

"Times change, Zo. How about I say something so she knows we're here, then you say everything?"

"Incentive," commanded the girl. Her voice sounded familiar. Come to think of it, so did the boy's.

"Cookies?"

"We all know you can't bake worth--"

"I could hear you arguing a mile away, kids. Just come in, I'll see if the Oracle has anything for you, and you don't have to continue debating."

The kids entered sheepishly, but Rachel didn't look up from her book.

"Sorry, Ms. Dare. We didn't mean to bother you."

"Ah, you're fine. It's nice to hear someone's voice, other than the ones in my head, you know?" She still didn't look up to meet their strange gazes. Instead, she finished her page, found the popsicle stick bookmark that she's painted on, and closed her book on it. She continued to stare at the cover wistfully.

"Aaanyway, I'm Luke, and this is Zoe. We'd like a prophecy," the boy said bluntly.

"If it isn't too much trouble," continued Zoe.

"Nah, no trouble at all." She finally looked up, and realized why the kids sounded so familiar. They could have been Percy and Annabeth's kids, but that was unlikely. To her memory, they didn't have children when they had died. Although, if they did, they looked about the age. They were probably a random pair of demigods from the Athena and Poseidon cabins.

She smiled and decided not to bring up her two late friends. After fifteen years, it was still hard. "Just give me a minute to prepare myself, I guess. How old are you guys?"

"We'll be sixteen in December," supplied Zoe.

"Both of you in the same month?"

"Yeah, Zo's on the 5th and I'm on the 6th," Luke elaborated. "She likes to claim seniority even though it's only by 11 minutes."

"Crazy that you guys were born so close together," Rachel commented.

"We grew up together, too, so I've gotten used to dealing with this Mush Head."

"It's not as bad as having to deal with you, Smart Alec."

"Believe me, it's a hundred times harder for the intelligent to deal with the plain stupid."

Zoe was the smart one of the pair? She had the traits of a child of Poseidon, while Luke looked like an Athena kid. Odd.

"Calm down, kiddos. You remind me of an Athena/Poseidon couple from my generation, come to think of it."

"Percy and Annabeth Jackson?" Zoe asked. "We get that a lot. Not sure why, though." There was a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because they're our parents? But that wouldn't make any sense at all. No. Certainly not," said Luke, exchanging that Percy Jackson trouble-maker smile with his apparently twin sister.

"The Jackson legacy lives on," Rachel exhaled, not sure how to react to this news. "And of course they named their kids after Luke and Zoe."

"What else were you really expecting?" inquired Luke.

Rachel laughed. That hadn't happened in while. "Nothing different."

[argorpg-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS and welcome to the crew of the Argo II, ABBY! The Gods have spoken: welcome aboard PHTHONOS, known as RONAN AVERY-GREENE, with a faceclaim of HENRY ZAGA. Please take a look at our checklist, and send in your account in the next 24 hours.

ADMIN NOTES: We will tell you straight up when we see Phthonos was the most difficult decision for us to make. Both apps were so rich in detail and plot, and it physically hurt us to choose one. But Abby, your portrayal of Phthonos just managed to tip the scale. We loved the idea of Ronan having a twin, that she plays such a major role in his resentment. It is clear that Ronan still has so much growing to do, and we cannot wait to watch for how this crew and this quest shape him. Your expansion of connections truly let us envision the sort of person he’s going to be among the crew, the way he’s going to mesh with others, and we can’t wait to see his anger develop and affect those around him. (And, happy birthday!)

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME/ALIAS: Abby AGE, TIMEZONE, PRONOUNS: 21 (today! happy acceptance day lol), GMT sept-dec & feb-may / EST dec-jan & june-aug, she/her ACTIVITY  & EXTRAS: I’m a full-time uni student, so while my schedule is usually pretty busy it is very flexible. I’m typically on at least a handful of hours every day, and more than likely have Tumblr running in the background (whoops?)

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED SKELETON: Phthonos CHARACTER NAME: Ronan Avery-Greene AGE & GENDER: 24, cis male FACECLAIM: Henry Zaga, Xavier Serrano, Rome Flynn, Samuel Larsen, Keith Powers

BIOGRAPHY:

It would be easy to say Ronan came into this world screaming, tiny fists raised in the air and already angry at a world that pulled him too soon from the womb’s warm embrace. It would certainly paint a nice picture: Ronan, born screeching and bloody, living and dying much the same. Too nice, perhaps, that the Gods could not give it to him. That the Fates had something else in mind.

It is Eleanor, Ronan’s sister, twin, predetermined better half that comes first, with war and fight already beating in her chest. Ronan is second, one step behind and quarter of an hour later, Nora’s umbilical cord wrapped around his tiny neck.

And so Ronan enters the world like this: already choking where his sister could breathe.

Life before Camp Half-Blood is a blur of mediocrity. The three of them, Nora, Ronan, and their mother make a home northeast of Philadelphia. She’s a teacher, History. Nora takes up soccer and field hockey and swimming. Ronan tries his hand at baseball, but is asked not to return next season after he gives the coach’s son a black eye. Any questions of their father, posed mostly by Ronan, are met with mumbled excuses and hurried promises of when you’re older.

Their mother brings a man home when she thinks they’re asleep. A few months later she introduces him as her friend, David. When they get married, the twins take his name, too, because they’re twelve and despite the storm they summon to fight it get no say in the matter.

The blur comes to a halt. August 19th, 2007. Olivia Greene is born, beautiful and bright-eyed and human, though Ronan doesn’t know yet there’s a difference between what flows in his and his new sister’s veins. What he knows is that she becomes the centre of his mother’s world, and David’s, too, but attention directed away from them is little different than no attention at all. The Avery twins cease to exist in a Greene home.

Nora doesn’t pay it much mind. She’s thirteen now and full of rage. Ronan is, too, sometimes so much he swears the only thing he can see is red, burning red. But Nora has her friends and her sports, her schoolwork or boys to keep her busy. Ronan’s teachers have all but given up on him, and despite the anger that bubbles in his chest he still waits for his mother to tuck him in before bed. He doesn’t know yet what the call the hand that closes over his heart when his mother croons over Olivia’s first word, but fails to notice her son’s slipping grades, poor attendance, rising detention count. He doesn’t know that this is only the beginning, one step down a path that was laid out from conception.

He learns, though. They all pay attention when he puts his hand through the living room wall.

The doctor that bandages his knuckles has stern words and Ronan nods like he listens, but he can’t help the grin that spreads the next time he sees the damage. And again, the next morning, when it’s still there, or the morning after. A monument to his rage and pain and fury. In everyone’s faces, where they can’t brush him aside with not tonight’s and another time’s and your sister, your sister, your sister, so many times he feels like screaming.

David patches the wall, eventually. Paints it over until he can’t even see the seam. But now Ronan knows how it feels to ruin things: a little like fire, a little like ice. Mostly it feels like quiet, just for a second, before the pain hits, and that could almost be mistaken for bliss.

Nora found her fury years ago, but now Ronan has his, makes a home in it, and that’s when the monsters come. Because one is enough for attention, but two, intertwined and blazing, has their hunger. Nora notices they’re being followed first, of course she does. Ronan is always two steps behind, tissue pressed to his busted lip, papers spilling out of his open bag, lacrosse gear swinging wildly off his shoulder. But Nora sees what he doesn’t, grabs his arm, hushes him when he protests to being pulled down an unfamiliar side street.

As it turns out, their new English substitute did take a disliking to Ronan, but not for the reasons he expected.

Their satyr grabs them before anything else can, explains impossible things, gives Ronan more questions than answers. His eyes nearly big out of his head when he takes off his shoes. But Ronan’s body is braced for war and so he wants to fight, argue, shake his head until he can shake out everything the satyr’s said to them. As always, it’s Nora who has the clear head, Nora who dealt the fatal blow to the monster, Nora who decides to listen. And if Ronan could hear anything but the thump thump of his own heart, then maybe he’d realise it felt right. Because nothing except the impossible can explain what their substitute teacher became, and so it is the impossible they must accept.

Fate his kind, just this once, to Ronan and his sister. The house is empty when they arrive, Nora’s splintered softball bat and Ronan’s half-melted lacrosse stick ditched in the dumpster at the end of the street. They make haste, shove only what they can or need into a backpack each. Camp Half-Blood isn’t far, not really, but it still feels like an eternity before they reach the top of the hill, cold and bloody and shivering.

They’re claimed within the day. Well, Nora is, a daughter of Ares, but Ronan is her twin and so, by default, he must be, too. It feels right enough. It feels nice enough, to have a name to the rage that burns like acid in his veins. To have a reason. They make their home in cabin number five, sleep a full night for the first time in too long, are promised safety and training and answers in the morning. And they come, they do, in spades.

Ronan’s weapon becomes the spear, Nora’s the harpe, and together they are a force to be reckoned with. But it is Nora who deals the final blows, who captures the flags, who crosses the finish line, and each time she is lauded, praised, lifted on their shoulders as if weren’t Ronan who got her there. As if he hadn’t weakened their opponent, found the flag, cut down every chariot that came up behind them. He tries not to let the bitterness swell, tries so hard, but even his own victories aren’t met with the same vigour as Nora’s. Ronan wins, all the damn time, but he’s angry and ruthless and cruel, and so it is his sister who wears the crown.

She becomes cabin counselor. There is no other alternative. Ronan doesn’t dare challenge her, because she’s his sister, more than anyone else in their cabin, but more because he knows he’ll lose.

He does his best to ignore the way the crowd ripples when Chiron calls his name. Wills himself not to see the way their eyes swivel from Nora to him. He is not the favourite. He is trouble and dangerous, and hasn’t gotten anyone killed yet, but very nearly. It doesn’t quite fall away when he steps forward, but fades to a static. Because Chiron said his name, and because it can almost sound like his father saying it, too.

And that’s enough. It has to be enough, because if it isn’t, then what does he have left?

FATAL FLAW/DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC:

Envy has always been something of a double-edged sword for Ronan; equal parts incentive and obstacle. It’s envy that pits him against his sister, his twin, his partner fused in the womb. It’s envy that keeps him at the arena until the sun is long set, until sweat pours off him, until his palms are raw and bloody. It’s envy that has him running first into battle, always, because when Nora does it she’s praised but when he does he’s brash and careless. Envy is, truly, at the root of all action, whether Ronan knows it or not.

(He doesn’t, he’s never had the wherewithal to stop and consider, even for a moment, why he behaves the way he does; he fights and he ruins and he hates and he seethes because they’re the only things he knows how to do.)

It’s envy that will make him pick up the spear, jump to action, be a hero, maybe. It’s envy that will make him take the wrong step, move a second too late, catch the wrong side of a monster’s swinging fist. Because he’ll see Ambitio, or Dyspistia, or Honos, and think: I can do that too, and better. I will have what they have, finally. Equally, it’s envy that will paralyse him, stop his fighting heart, turn his muscles to stone. It’s envy that will make him think too hard, for too long, turn desire into obsession, miss his mark, kill his friends, kill the world.

Ronan does something because of envy, or he doesn’t do anything at all. It’s all the same, in the end.

EXTRAS

blog tag // moodboard // pinterest

CONNECTIONS, EXISTING (or expanded)

Anasfaleia: Ronan has met plenty of people who don’t like him. It’s in his nature to abrade, antagonise, rile up; the only true gift he considers from his father. His instinctual response has always been to dislike them back. But herein lies the issue: he doesn’t dislike Anasfaleia. Maybe he’s lacking in some respect for them, which he doesn’t feel is unwarranted, but he thinks of all the Greeks aboard the argo he might even like them the most – though that says little when he measures in relative distaste. Still, something familiar flickers in them, and the fact that they’ve rebuffed every attempt at connection only beckons him more. Kindness has always felt clunky on his tongue, strange and unfamiliar. It’s clear, by contrast, that Anasfaleia is unfamiliar with the Ares way of affection – or at least liking. But he also knows that only pushing them further to the edge of the cliff is a sure way down to destruction. He just needs to come to terms with his own actions and, gods forbid, their consequences.

Ambitio: When Ronan is at a loss for how to express himself he becomes cruel. It’s a learned response, because anger is loud and kindness is quiet and because he feels, so he wants others to feel in return. It’s childish, and immature, and a thousand other things Ronan hasn’t stopped to consider, but still he persists. With Laurel it is amplified tenfold. He feels everything, can do nothing, and so he seethes. Quietly, at first, until it isn’t. And then it is loud, burning and raging and filed down to a point. He doesn’t yet know how to get under her skin, how to garner the response he’s looking for, but he’ll keep trying. Eventually, something has to stick. One of his jabs will land, because he’s never known how to relinquish anything, especially pain, and when he does it will likely bring disaster raining on all of them.

Dyspistia: War and strategy, Ronan’s heard the mantra, had it drilled into him from his very first capture the flag. He knows Dyspistia would rather Nora be aboard than him; they’ve not exactly been quiet about it. He wants to prove them wrong, Dyspistia and everyone who dared whisper when he was chosen. He’s meant to be there, he’s earned this right. What has Dyspistia done to be chosen? What accolades have they been passed over for? But Ronan is self-destructive, and maybe he wants to prove them a little right, too. Maybe that’s why he buries his spear in the side of the ship, why he mouths off, antagonises the most volatile of the Romans, why he acts without fear of consequence. Because Dyspistia is right; Ronan is the wrong twin, always has been, and his refusal to cooperate with what should be his better half aboard the Argo II is just one more nail in the coffin he’s built for himself.

Pacis: It’s not the first time someone has tried to make peace with him. But Ronan has war and wolves howling in his veins, chariots pounding in his heart. He has never known peace, likely never will. Those who extend the olive branch only end up getting burned. He understands this quest is bigger than him, bigger than even the Greeks, he does, honest to gods. But his mind is so easily clouded, his gaze so easily distracted. More so, Ronan is suspicious. The Romans are never what they present themselves to be, and though Pacis’ attempt at bridging the gap between camps seems nice enough, Ronan keeps looking for the snake in the grass. He cannot, for the life of him, fathom how someone trained in battle for so many years of their life can be so kind, simply because Ronan has only known it to be weakness, and it leaves him dubious. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, so sure it will.

CONNECTIONS, POTENTIAL

Agapi: Hunters of Artemis are never permanent fixtures in Camp Half-Blood, but when they do visit Ronan is sure to give them a wide berth. Just once, he turns away from the conflict rather than towards it. He knows he’s everything the Hunters are bred to hate, and so when Agapi is chosen beside him he’s already braced for impact. But, maybe, a hunter and soldier aren’t so different, and Ronan has always been a wild thing, so it’s possible he’s been too hasty. They don’t take a liking to each other, but that’s hardly out of character. Still, the age behind their eyes intrigues him. He sees them watching the Romans, but can’t discern if it’s with hate, which he knows, envy, which he knows, or something else entirely.

Amarus: Another Roman who scorns the gods. Is Ronan missing something? Is there some great secret they haven’t let the Greeks in on? Half of him knows already, really. Half of him understands Amarus, because what have the gods given him except a gaping hole? A void he’s forced to fill with violence and anger and pleas that fall on deaf ears. But half of him scorns Amarus right back, because what would they – any of them, all of them – be without the gods? Self-made heroes? What a farce. Something bitter twists in Ronan’s stomach when he looks at them. If he were crueler, he might say they’re only there to be the ship’s lucky charm, but surely even he isn’t so cold-hearted, right?

Anisychia: Ronan has never known them to be timid, or skittish, or anything except overwhelmingly kind. They might’ve even been a friend, once, between bandaging his bruised knuckles and patching up black eyes, if Ronan hadn’t found a gift for ruination, for spoiling all things sweet that came his way. But he knows this: something fundamental shifted in the throne room. He can’t even begin to fathom what Apollo might have given them, as all gifts the Gods grant their children are laced equal parts with poison, but he clutches his spear tighter every night. Thankfully, the Argo II leaves little room to hide, and if Anisychia insists on keeping this secret to themselves, they’ll soon have Ronan biting at their heels.

Apatheia: Of all the things Ronan has been burdened with, or otherwise hoisted upon himself, death is not one of them, and for that, perhaps, he is fortunate. But he is still a victim of the crowd, a follower of trends, and for all the summers and years he’s shared with Apatheia at Camp Half-Blood, he’s given them a wide berth through each one. Who wouldn’t, he thinks, with their sunken eyes and raised hackles, always looking like something backed into a corner. They scare some campers, unnerve others. Ronan simply stayed away because everyone did. But the Argo II leaves little room for escape, and Ronan finds himself forced to reconsider: are war and death really so different, after all?

Culpa: Cursed, they say, and Ronan wants to laugh. He looks at her and sees nothing but profound sadness – an emotion unfamiliar on a Roman’s face, but something he knows well enough. If Ivy thinks she’s the one to bring dishonour and disaster to the Argo II, she hasn’t met Ronan, the Least Glorious Child of Ares. Surely no bad luck or ill fate can compare to Ronan’s profound mediocrity, the highest disgrace in his father’s eyes. He wants to spit at her, you know nothing of failure, of fighting for everything only to get nothing in return but scorn and disregard. But Ronan knows better than that. Still, something about her beckons him, like a bruise; to touch, to press, to see where all the hurt is.

Cynici: Envy blossoms in his chest again, this time a different shade. How Ronan wishes he could cast off the shackles of his father, feel resentment or hatred, or Gods even indifference, instead of despair. But he can’t, and he doesn’t, and he hates Cynici all the more for making it look so easy. They despise their godly parent, Ronan thinks, maybe because he’s looking for it, or maybe because violence and anger are the only things he knows how to recognise anymore. He wants to ask how they do it; how they stopped begging, if they ever did, how they learned to live with the burden, if they ever felt one, but that would require a moment alone and a shred of trust, both of which Ronan is lacking.

Honos: Hero, the Romans whisper, as if it’s already decided. He can’t say they look like much, but if appearances were the sole factor determining glory then surely Ronan would be suffocating in it by now. As it stands, he doesn’t know what to make of Honos. Half of him wants to believe they were only chosen for their legacy, because he is, at his core, insecure and yearning for a kindred spirit. But he’s not blind to the way greatness wraps itself around their shoulders like a shroud – or perhaps it’s simply duty he sees; they look so similar to Ronan these days. Regardless, he treads carefully around Honos, watches when he thinks they aren’t looking, waits, but what for he doesn’t yet know.

Othisi: Ronan struggles to feel little more than contempt for the Hermes cabin, and they are no exception. They take nothing seriously, where Ronan takes everything, and Gods help them if they come within sight of his spear. He knows, he knows, the Greeks need a united front if they’re to have any hope against the Romans, but it seems like everything Othisi does is purposely designed to set him off. The cheeky smirks, quick hands, half-truths, each crafted to slip under his skin. Ronan knows he’s not that special, really, but he can’t help the anxiety that builds every time they’re in the room. The only good Othisi has ever done is give Ronan and Dyspistia something to agree on, but perhaps that is a feat all on its own.

Superbia: If Ronan hadn’t been in the room himself, he scarcely would’ve believed Superbia of all people was a chosen hero. Everything about them drips opulence, and though Ronan knows little of quests or glory, he knows battle, he knows war, and decadence has little place in either; sooner would it get you killed than bring you victory. He’s convinced Superbia will stick out like a sore thumb, if only because he fails to see their use. Bacchus is not a warrior god, and in turn has not made a warrior child. It’s likely that Ronan’s own hubris clouds any perceived threat, but perhaps that’s for the better. Of all the Romans on board the Argo II, Ronan can find the fewest reasons to hate them.

[sparklyferriswheel]

More Webcomic Recommendations

part 1

Hello again!  The last post I made regarding webcomics had good feedback, and I loved reading the tags people left on that post.  So I have decided to make a part 2 and recommend 10 more lovely queer webcomics that you can read now!

 Alphabet Soup

This comic tells the real stories of LGBTQ+ people’s experiences.  The comics don’t follow a specific storyline.  Instead, each ministory talks about a different person.  Each smaller story can be anywhere from 1 page to 3 pages.  This comic is very sweet, and it’s nice to know that I can relate to how others may feel in their identities.  This comic runs on stories submitted by email to the artist (here is the FAQ about how the artist receives submissions).  I love the individuality of each story and how they are all real experiences.  This comic is for YOU and YOUR queer experiences.  Reading this casually is a great way to pass the time.  Alphabet Soup is currently ongoing (but is on hiatus for a few weeks as of January 21st) and has 81 pages so far.

19 Days and Their Story

Yes, I know that these are two different comics, but because they have similar premises and are by the same author/artist, I am including them together on this list.  These comic were introduced to me by a good friend of mine a little over a year ago, so shoutout to her for introducing me to these adorable stories.  The art for both is lovely and colorful.  Both of these comics are English translations of the original Chinese.

First up is 19 Days, a slice of life comic focusing on two friends, Zhan Xixi and Jian Yi, doing stuff.  There is more than that obviously, but I refuse to spoil anything.  They are highschool students, and there is some angst and tears (both happy and sad).  It is currently ongoing with 190 pages so far.

Their Story is also a slice of life comic.  It focuses on a girl named Sun Jing, who forms a crush of a girl named Qiu Tong from another school.  Sun Jing eventually gathers the courage to approach Qiu Tong at the train station one day, and adorableness ensues.  This one is slightly more lighthearted than 19 days, and it focuses a lot on the wonderful humor the comic has.  This comic is currently ongoing with 122 pages so far.

Monster Pop!

Monster Pop! takes place in a world where monsters and humans coexist.  Sometimes they get along, and sometimes they don’t.  The comic is very cute and colorful.  It is a slice of life story that focuses on George and her friend Franny along with other friends at Unity University, a college for humans and monsters alike.  I absolutely love the characters and their designs, especially Marina and George.  Almost every character has their own tumblr, and THERE ARE REALLY GOOD SONGS FOR THE COMIC!!!  Like please, listen to the songs on George’s blog they are so good.  But yes, please read this colorful wonderful comic.  It is currently ongoing with 5 chapters and over 450 pages so far.

No End 

Oooooooo I have been waiting so long to talk about No End you have no idea.  No End takes place during a zombie apocalypse.  Modra and Ben are out looking for Haven, a safeplace that most people just think of as a fairytale.  However, they run into a strange group of former military, and then the real journey begins.  Although this comic absolutely can be serious, it has humorous and lighthearted interactions between the characters.  This comic has definitely climbed the list and become one of my favorite comics to-date.  Just, please read it.  It’s amazing.  It is currently ongoing and has 452 pages so far.

Rechargeable

Oh boy, where do I even start with this comic.  The caption at the bottom of the picture pretty much summarizes what I was going to say.  Like Griefer Belt (mentioned in part 1), this comic focuses on a bunch of queer criminals.  Rechargeable takes place in the far future, so a lot of interesting technology is featured as well as clothing styles and worldbuilding.  This street gang’s interactions are so heartwarming.  They are such an adorable family-like unit.  Highly recommend for soft interactions and gritty work.  As a warning, this comic contains violence, death, use/mention of drugs and some sexual references (taken directly from the website).  This comic is currently ongoing with 121 pages so far.

Witchy

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In the witch kingdom Hyalin, the strength of your magic is determined by the length of your hair. Those that are strong enough are conscripted by the Witch Guard, who enforce the law in peacetime and protect the land during war. However, those with hair judged too long are pronounced enemies of the kingdom, and annihilated. This is called a witch burning. _(taken directly from the comic). Want a comic about queer Asian witches with lots of action and great characters?  You do?  Then Witchy is the comic for you.  The story is fantastic and could not recommend it enough if I tried.  It is currently ongoing with 190 pages so far.

Unfamiliar

More witches!  But this comic is quite a bit different from the last one on the list.  Planchette just moved into her new house, which is haunted!  Because she is only good at food magic, she goes into the nearby town to search for a witch to help her with her little ghost problem.  The characters seem adorable so far, and the art style is so nice ahhhhh.  The comic is short so far, but I am excited to see what this comic has in store.  It is currently ongoing with 47 pages so far.

Black City Birds

More magic!  Changelings live in this world, but humans can’t see them.  Changelings are fae souls reborn in human bodies.  Violet is a satyr who may or may not have broken a few laws.  She now may or may not have to deal with a case that she is blamed for.  Super cool premise and character designs.  I’m enjoying it a lot so far.  This comic is currently ongoing with over 50 pages so far.

Autophobia

Oh man, I can’t believe I almost forgot to include Autophobia on this list.  Now this, this comic is a masterpiece.  You will laugh.  You will cry.  You will smile.  You will shout.  This comic brought almost every emotion out of me, but I guess that also could have been the fact that I read the entire thing at 3 am on a school night.  This comic brings attention to mental illness, which is great.  One of the main characters, Louis, suffers from anxiety.  His anxiety plays a big part in the story.  This comic details Daniel, an energetic kid who is very confident but also very clumsy, befriending the boy he has always had a crush on, Louis.  Even though this may count as a spoiler, I will still include a small piece of information.  In chapter 14 there is an intense and very realistic depiction of an anxiety attack, so be careful when reading that part.  There are also mentions of alcoholism and physical abuse, so there are your warnings.  This comic is currently ongoing and over 540 pages long and divided into 14 chapters.

Puu (பூ )

To finish up, let’s talk about a comic completely different from the last few that I talked about.  Puu takes place in Tamil Nadu, India.  Jameel and Saboor are roommates, but they slowly grow into something more.  It is an absolutely precious comic with colorful soft art.  Overall, recommend for a casual read to lighten your mood. It is ongoing with 16 episodes so far.

Okay, fine.  There are 11 comics on this list, but hey, look at that as a bonus!  I own none of the comics listed above.  I hope you enjoy these and have a nice day!

[amongushq]

Welcome (back) to Among Us, RORY! HARTLEY MORGAN ( with the faceclaim of NAT ZANG ) has found shelter in NEW ATHENS, where we hope HE will fit in nicely. Please make sure to check the “after applying”section of our navigation here!

It is infinitely difficult to point out the best part of this application. The writing style makes it a great read, which is important when an app gets so wordy. However long it took you to type Hartley’s story, it was well worth it, as we have a complete view of his background, how it shaped him -- but mostly, how he always was himself to begin with. As you worded it in the application, Hartley’s personality doesn’t change as much as it evolves, still giving us a glimpse of the child he used to be. His opening up once at camp, his thoughts on the Olympians; everything has a reason and is believable. Hartley is complete and three-dimensional, and it’s obvious you know him well and can make him grow without losing sight of who he is as a person. Someone with his opinions and talents will, without a doubt, add diversity to the group; all in all, we can’t wait to have him around and see who he will associate with, and how his feelings towards the gods will play out.

AND YOU ARE…?

I.

It seems to be an accepted unquestioned fact of the universe that children of Gods, little beings called Demi-gods, will not have a happy childhood. Will not have a happy or fun life, will not get much back for being placed on the Earth as tools, mere weapons at times to be used by the Gods. Left at birth to a single parent, often times one that doesn’t care enough for the child, holding hatred in their heart for being left alone with this thing. Their origin stories are laced and sewn together with neglect and fear. Young children running away from those who they are meant to call a family, feeling too much like a black sheep to stay. Or running for fear of getting hurt, be it from the monsters that lurk in the night or their relatives. There are exceptions to this fact, as there are with any other fact. Kids who grow up loved and adored by their one parent, sometimes two, a step-something in the midst who doesn’t know any other way but to love a child. Then in situations such as these, the beginning of the end always starts with one thing. Camp.

When you’re the child of one of the bigger gods, in the Greek terms, the Olympians, in Roman terms, the Dei Consentes, you can very easily be dubbed as important. ‘Important’ can mean many things in this case, maybe you’re just the child of one of the Big three, the gods who fancy themselves as the best and those in charge. Except Hades, because he’s not an Olympian, that would be absurd. Right? If this happens, it’s quite likely you’ll be the focus of much attention, be it good or bad, depending on the person who decides to take a look at you in that moment. Being dubbed important has a cost, as all things do, and it’s likely that you’re set to die or come close in some grand fight for your Godly parent or the good of all the world. There’s a good chance you may be part of a prophesy. Count your blessings if this is the case. If you’re the kid of one of the other 12 main gods, it’s still easily to be noted, to be important, to hold others interest for quite a while. You’ve always had a place to stay at Camp, there has always been a cabin dedicated to your parent.

Good luck if you’re the kid to any other God or Goddess, you can easily be dubbed as disposable.

II.

When the sun began to set on November 15th, 1998 in a small town known as Lancaster Village in New York, there was a storm beginning to brew. There was an eerie feeling that blanketed many of the residents that night, the intense feeling that something was wrong. They would never learn what this feeling truly meant, as many blamed it on the large storm that came. As it began to near midnight, and the sky opened up with a fury, a baby was born, or shall I say created. This baby would come to be known as Hartley Lynus Morgan. A quiet baby, set to grow into a quiet child. Hartley, as he got older and could understand the words spoken around him, was called one of the ‘lucky ones’. He didn’t understand this, but then again, he was just a child, and children shouldn’t have to analyze what others say.

Hartley could have been called an odd child. ‘For starters,’ a neighbor whispered as he and his father pass on one of their strolls one Summer day, ‘The boy is seven and I heard he hasn’t uttered a single word.’ Which is only partially true, Hartley could speak, and he did so to himself in his room plenty of the time, but he hadn’t yet spoken outside, near others. He had talked around them, yet not with words, as he preferred to keep his thoughts to himself and his father, and use sign language instead.

He could also be called odd due to his intense interest in literature. ‘Well there’s a reason,’ his fourth grade teacher had said to another parent one afternoon, ‘his family doesn’t have tv or a computer or anything,’. Unlike the rumor that went around about him two years prior, this one was completely true. Hartley had no television, he didn’t watch anything, and his apartment didn’t have a computer. So he read, he read as much as he wanted and more, because it was the one thing his father would splurge on for him. At first it seemed his father would though he would have trouble reading, but no, he could be considered well ahead of the curve. One of his favorite things to read about was Greek, Roman, and Norse mythology. There was something about the stories that he quite enjoyed.

Hartley, as a young child, wasn’t ever a fan of socializing with his peers. He always had the feeling that something was off. Like he simply wasn’t like the other children, he wasn’t as excitable, he wasn’t as loud, and he rarely spoke. But he was a very happy kid, there was rarely a moment when he didn’t have the ghost of a smile on his face. And while many adults thought he was weird, or that his family was abnormal, the other children liked him well. He wasn’t close friends with any of them, not that he minded, he had one best friend, his father Asher, and that was enough.

III.

Asher Morgan was 16 when his little sister, born from a different mother than he, was taken away to a Camp specially for people like her. The daughter of Apollo, he would come to learn. Demi-gods, he learned, and he also learned that he was as normal as they came, bar one thing. He could see through ‘the mist’, the one thing that protects the world where monsters and gods really exist. One could assume he was bitter at not being special, but he was more thankful than anything else. His sister told him stories, of some of the things that happen, and he saw them sometimes himself. He wouldn’t want to be involved in that world, and that thought was only further cemented when he got news that his little sister had died.

He kept his own personal promise for a long time, but all stories need a good beginning, and this one starts when Asher fell in love. He didn’t mean to, but does anyone mean to feel anything? He knew who she was, she didn’t keep it a secret from him, but he couldn’t deny how he felt about her, and when she revealed she was pregnant a few months into their relationship, he knew he had to do everything in his power to protect his child. Asher was fully aware of what his son was, and feared for the future he believed fate had in store for him. This knowledge fueled his overprotective nature, and the rules that he would put in place as his son got older.

Hecate had told him the potential things Hartley could inherit, and kept his son away from anything magic related, knowing as long as Hartley believed the spells he spoke would work they would. As a result, Hartley was strictly forbidden from reading anything magical, especially Harry Potter. Asher made sacrifices to keep Hartley safe, moving away from the city, disconnecting himself from television and the internet. But he knew just that wouldn’t be good enough. Hecate also told him of the other gods and goddesses, and Asher started to grow disdainful of them for scorning her. And he began to fear they would scorn his son in the same way.

He took it a step further to protect Hartley. He taught the boy everything he knew about self defense, fighting, and using weapons. Under the guise of bonding, he took him out hiking and camping, he taught him how to use a knife in defense and more, slingshots, daggers, and even guns once he reaches the age of 12. He would feel bad if Hartley hated it, but Hartley took to learning all Asher had to teach him like a fish to water. He would never let Hartley get hurt, and this was the best way to help protect him, even after he’s gone.

When Hartley was nearing his 15th birthday, Asher was sure no one was ever coming for him. That maybe his son could live a normal life, a safe life. There had been no monsters, no danger, no satyrs coming for his son. Maybe he thought this all too quickly, because just days after he first let these thoughts into his mind, a satyr showed up at his door. It was time.

IV.

Hartley grew up and grew into who he was as a person. His personality didn’t so much as change as it did evolve. He was still a relaxed teenager, not a do gooder, but he wasn’t labelled as a bad child either. On the surface, to those around him, Hartley simply didn’t do much. No one saw him or his father around town unless it was late runs to the grocery store, he didn’t hang out with anyone but another quiet boy in his math class, and people rarely heard anything about him. If it wasn’t for his odd demeanor, he could have easily blended into the woodwork.

At home however, Hartley was a much different person. He was excitable, quickly talking about his interests with his father, jumping from topic to topic with glee. Of course, there were moments of silence, when Hartley was thinking about who knows what, or reading his new book that he’d eventually describe in detail. He was surely more mature, though he was never immature per say. He was more open with those around him, not talking about anything of importance, but still, now he was talking. Great bounds from where he had been as a child, when whispers of ‘problems’ followed his every move.

There were still whispers, maybe more malicious, maybe not, it all depends on perspective, but Hartley did his best to never listen to closely, willing himself not to fall into the trap that is rumors. He heard them though, people wondering if something was wrong with him, why doesn’t he ever do anything, isn’t he a bit creepy, things of such nature.

Hartley could dissuade these thoughts with ease if he so desired, he could tell them of all that he does, of the books that he reads, of the training he had partaken in with his father the night before. Yet, he had no desire to do so, he never understood why, but he had a feeling that life was much more than what people in your class thought of you.

V.

When Hartley was 14, he thought his father was having a mental break one evening after school. Now, he isn’t one to usually have such thoughts, but he figured it was quite warranted as his father told him about his mother, a Greek Goddess, Hecate to be exact. This, to him, was a clear indication of something wrong with his father. He didn’t voice his concerns at first, and just listened to his father, and the more he spoke, the more Hartley began to listen. He learned that he once had an aunt, a lovely girl with wild blonde hair who was talented in many things. He learned that she wanted to be a doctor.

He learned that he would have to go away, to somewhere called Camp Half-Blood, to learn more, to be protected. He thought that was absurd, he could protect himself as is, but when a man came out of his father’s room, and further explained things. Things like monsters and the dangers that would follow him, he understood. Maybe he was accepting this too quickly, but it made sense to him, like something inside of him shifted, and began to make him more of himself. His father also told him of what happened to his mother, and the way the camp worked.

Hartley was hesitant as he packed a bag of things to take with him to the camp, sliding in a few of the weapons he kept in his room inside. The satyr, a nice man named Marchun, promised to tell him more on their journey. Hartley was worried, he was only a kid, and he was being thrown into a world he knows nothing about. It would be easy to resent his father for never telling him, but Hartley was never a fan of easy. He was happy his father loved him so much that he would try to protect him from the dangerous world in which he belonged. Or maybe didn’t belong, if the words spoken about his mother and the way some gods were pushed to the side were any indication.

The father and son parted with the promise to write to each other, and for Hartley to visit whenever possible. It was only a few hours after Hartley came home from school, unaware that it would be his last day doing so, when he set off with a satyr, to a place he never could have imagined existing.

VI.

It takes him a couple of days to settle in, albeit unhappily, or maybe not unhappily, more confused. He learns the moment he steps into the camp grounds that yes, he is indeed a son of Hecate. He also learns that his mother only recently got a cabin. Previously, there had only been cabins for the main 12 gods, which Hartley thought was a bit ridiculous, the thought that other demi-gods somehow didn’t deserve one dedicated to their godly patronage. Other gods and goddesses had to have had children of their own, as he knew, just based off of who he was, that there was no rule stating that they couldn’t. Maybe this is where Hartley started to have feelings towards some of the gods.

He talks with some of the other campers, and is further informed of all the things that potentially come with being a child of Hecate. That being magic, mist control, limited necromancy, and limited prophetic abilities. None exactly guaranteed, but promised he should have at least one. So another cabin member, a daughter of Hecate, took him out to a field to see what he would have an affinity for. After giving him a couple of tips, pointers really, he set off on trying each of the domains. Even if they could only truly test three of the four, as prophetic capabilities couldn’t be forced.

They found that he was quite skilled- powerful is the word she used- in mystiokinesis and mist control. Though his control lacking a significant amount, which the girl, his sister, he was quick to say, chalked it up to it being the first time he was trying. A few weeks went by when Hartley realized that he was smiling around many more people than usual, and that he was genuinely happy around his peers. He had a family, siblings that he was already starting to love.

He was shown the armory after his initial magic testing, and surprised his sister by falling in love with most of the weapons there. Hartley’s chosen weapons ended up being a dual set of daggers, one made of celestial bronze, the other made of silver. He knows magic, but if he learned anything from his father, it’s that he should be able to protect himself when he has nothing but a weapon in hand. He wants more weapons, but he knows he has the ones from home, and with magic, he can probably learn to make more. All that matters is that he can defend himself.

He doesn’t forgot his thoughts of the Gods. He would never hold anything against their children, for they are not the one’s who have the real power in this world. His feelings multiply each time he learns another friend’s story of how they came to camp, of what their life was like before it. He says nothing on the thoughts that go through his head in those moments, and pushes them off for a later date. Maybe they’re too dark at times, but he doesn’t think they’re any darker than the actions of some of the Gods. He stays at Camp year round.

Interlude.

His father dies. Car accident, he is told when he finally reaches the hospital, too late to do anything but decide what he wants done with his father’s body. Cremated, he decides, and has his father’s ashes formed into a gem, pressed into a necklace that he vows to never take off. Later, when he returns to camp, he sits in his cabin, alone. There’s something happening in a different part of camp, he didn’t bother to learn what it was. He puts the gem on the table and starts to work, setting about a protection spell on the gem. His father would want to protect him, even after death. It’s the least Hartley could do for him.

VII.

Three years have passed since that fateful day in his old home when he was whisked away to a land of magic, mystery, and destruction. He’s grown more in this time than he thinks he ever could have if he never found out who he is. Hartley is now far more open than ever, willing to talk with anyone at camp, and always happy to welcome new Demigods to camp. He still falls into quiet periods, some habits are hard to break, his thoughts running faster than usual. It’s in these moments that his mind festers on his beliefs in the Gods. Of how cruel and terrible they can be. He does his best to ignore these thoughts, but sometimes it’s easier said than done.

Hartley is currently splitting his time between New Athens and Camp Half-Blood. He lives at Camp and is the Head Counselor of the Hecate Cabin, and his proud that he holds the title, despite the comparably short amount of time he has spent at camp. He welcomes any and all new members to the Hecate family with a smile, and a silent vow to keep them as safe as he can. He goes to New Athens for University, majoring in Literature, letting his long held love for it become something more than a mere hobby. While it’s exhausting, splitting his time between the two places, along with keeping up the protective barrier, doing work with the Labyrinth, his classwork, his head counselor duties, training, and any other passing thing, he’s content. He keeps busy with all his responsibilities, and when he does have a moment of quiet, he likes to spend it in thought.

Hartley has gotten better at controlling his magic as the years went by, though there have been mishaps due to his lack of, he is only getting better. He likes to practice by himself, but he will gladly accept if a sibling wants to do any sort of magical sparring or practice with him. After all, it is part of his duty to help them as well. He continues his weaponry training, and has expanded his horizons to other weapons, even swords, which he finds fun to use, but usually not his first choice. While not known to most, he carries multiple concealed weapons on his person at any given time, always prepared to defend himself or others. He will note his disdain of not being allowed weapons inside of New Athens.

VIII.

{ When you’re the son of a Goddess, but a Goddess that has been snubbed, and whose hand has been forced, sometimes you start to see things you might not if you were the son of someone important. }

Prior to the Recall, Hartley was planning on moving away and going to Cornell University for schooling, and starting a new chapter of his life in the normal world. He was planning on visiting Camp, and all of the friends he had made, as well as his siblings, but his plans were put to a halt with the announcement of the Recall. He was all ready to give up his duties as Head Counselor, everything ready for him to sign off. The Recall is something he has many thoughts on, all linking to his prior ones about the Olympians, but he won’t ever speak them aloud. He knows they aren’t above punishing those who go against him.

Bitter isn’t the right word to use when describing how he feels about this new situation, or the Gods in general. Maybe affronted would be better, or incensed. It’s just another notch in his notes of how much the Gods, particularly one, rule their lives with an unrelenting hand. He can’t say a thing however. He isn’t important in the grand scheme of things, he’s well aware of this. He’s the son of Hecate, who the Gods aren’t particularly favorable towards, he knows he has been marked as disposable. He could be wiped off the map before he finishes his sentence. So he is going to continue playing their game. He’ll follow the rules, as he always has, maybe it’s him biding his time, he really doesn’t really know yet.