#Krios laughing at him

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mouth Othrys

Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw III

A thunderous crack startled Axel out of sleep. At first, he thought Hecate had darkened the Mist into onyx.

His memory kicked in: black marble walls. Jack had moved Pax and Axel to their own room in Mount Tamalpais. Jack attempted separate rooms, but, of course, Pax ended up in Axel’s room within twenty minutes of being split, fifteen more minutes than the Sabotage unit had bet on, leaving Prometheus with a score of 7 to 1 on prediction.[1]

Mementos from the dead scattered and clanged all over their carpet. Axel had left all other decorating to Pax. That was why Praetor Julian’s medallions, a centurion’s unicorn necklace, and other items clattered onto a pink shag carpet with paint splotches. Axel hoped they were paint splotches. Pax had, allegedly, found the carpet dumpster-diving with Matthias.

Panic hadn’t set in yet. Axel sat up, clutching something to his chest: the Triple A Chimera helm. A hiss erupted from the top of the plumes, something far too weak to be the helm’s gravely tones.

Honey, the weasel, appeared quite distressed by the movement, hissing and squirming to find comfort.

Above Axel, he could see Pax peering over his bunk, his amber eye glistening in their room’s night light. Matthias had installed it at the same time he installed Pax’s bunk. Axel had replaced the original cover: a British aristocrat’s glowing ass, the monocled and top-hatted man peering over his shoulder while mooning them. Now, it was a winking dryad. Still inappropriate but a massive improvement.

“Baller is upset,” Pax said, his voice trembling, “Was that an earthquake? Like, did Poseidon just take a massive shit? Imagine if that is what took out the titans—”

“Axel! Pax! My boys!”

Their door flew open.

The scene was a flashback overlapped into real time. Jack stood in his pink, monogrammed PJs, the back of a toilet seat raised like a baseball bat to attack potential intruders. The only difference from the first time was that the walls and toilet seat were black. Prometheus often quipped that Kronos might have an aneurism if their new camp didn’t have the right SS aesthetic.

“You’re okay!” Jack exhaled, lowering the lid with a thunk. The effort had made his arms shake. “The room next door collapsed. I thought—”

“You were going to dig us out where a toilet cover?” Pax asked, voice quivering.

“Yes, next best thing to a shovel—”

“Jack,” Flynn’s snap quieted Jack. He took a step back.

The Leader of Assault and Battery was mid-tugging a shirt over her chest as she came into view. Axel averted his gaze. “Luke is hurt,” she said. There was a faint jingling noise, signaling that she must have been wrapping her bun. She’d taken to wearing the goofy hair trinkets Pax made for her. “Ajax with me. We’re mobilizing to dig Luke out. Axel, with Kampe. She’s decided she’s leading the charge to camp Half-Blood while Kronos is occupied under rumble.”

Axel’s gaze shot up. “She’s what?” Her command was already taking effect. Axel sat up fully, careful to assure the helm and weasel stayed safe against his chest.

“She thinks they might be able to beat Percy Jackson back to his camp—”

“He was here?!” Pax yelped. He, too, appeared under Flynn’s command. He scurried down from the top bunk, only pausing to collect Honey from Axel’s helm. She squeaked indignantly. Axel appreciated it: a battlefield was no place for a newborn Mistform, no matter how fierce.

Flynn glowered. She liked to be interrupted (especially by children) as much as the soldiers of Mount Othrys liked doing Monster Laundry Duty.

Fortunately, Jack had no such reservations. He picked up one of their newly minted Orpheus Metal shirts from the ground and slipped it over Pax’s head. As if he were five years younger, Pax obediently lifted his arms to make it easier. Jack’s motion was frantic, and Axel had to wonder if Luke could get hurt after receiving the Curse of Achilles. “Well, kiddo, unless some other demigod’s parent has earned the title of ‘Earthshaker,’ then that’s our perpetrator—”

Someone’s words overtook Jack’s. It was Luke’s voice, but not. A second voice reverberated under the first, the same way Kouta, Axel’s older brother, made announcements for the circus, but maybe if Kouta was hyped up on some demonic energy drink. It was a two-toned cacophony, rusty and vile. As it roared, the building shook again, a hateful scream of, “Percy Jackson! After them—after them—”

Everyone froze. Even Flynn’s hold on the boys snapped.

Before, when Luke and Axel used to meditate together or when Luke had convinced Jack to allow Axel to join them at the Horizontal Monster Mash, Luke had described that voice. Between Luke’s gulps of beers, the color would drain from his face and his eyes would go hazy. He recalled the sublime and awful tauntings that haunted his nightmares, that would seep into his waking hours to remind him he was useless, merely a vessel, a stuffed animal disemboweled of its stuffing. (That last one, Axel knew, would upset Pax immensely.)[2]

That voice made Luke feel small, the way Axel’s father’s voice had for him. He didn’t need to ask why Luke followed its orders. It was impossible to resist when it was in your head all day.

Now it was Luke.

Axel couldn’t help but think of Pax, pitching their cause to new demigods: Have you heard the good word of Kronos? Overlaid with a blasphemous verse from his days at a Catholic elementary school: he has risen, just as he said.[3]

Kronos had risen.

Axel didn’t realize the Luke-Thing was still screaming. Not until Lucille stepped into their doorway.

She wore her battle armor. Her blonde hair was neatly braided back, and she carried a Greek-style helm under one arm and a pilum in the other. With her frail frame, she looked like a costumed Barbie. Their training taught Axel otherwise.

“Flynn. Axel.” Her tone was grave, the same way it always got before battle. “The strike force is moving out.” Her icy blue eyes shifted. “Jack, Pax, I’m sorry.” Giving them a fragile smile. It failed to comfort anyone.

Flynn’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not leaving Jack alone.” Ever again, Axel thought he could hear. Maybe with another faint echo of, Especially not with that thing. “What if the Ol’sissies double back while Luke is out of commission? A child of the Big Three? Maybe two if that earthquake wasn’t from Jackson?”

Lucille nodded. The half-sisters had a respect for each other’s combat intuition.

Despite trembling at Luke’s shrieking and the fear of angering Flynn, Pax whimpered, “B—but Mercedes said—”

That she could make Axel and Pax be part of the Sabotage Unit, away from the main battles. But, Axel knew it would be futile after his second cage match had gone so well, especially after the assault on the lab.

Lucille explained this gently, “I know, sweetie. But, Axel has proven himself over and over. It will boost everyone’s moral if he’s there.” She pressed her lips together. “And gain him favor with any new… changes in command.”     

Axel had a gut-sinking feeling Lucille was right. The helm hummed in his grip. Now, more than ever, he needed to be seen fighting along the monsters’ side. If they were to survive assassinating Kronos after the war, they needed the full backing of Alabaster’s monster family.

Axel stumbled to the armor at the base of their bunks. His legs felt leaden. The fingers touching the helmet buzzed with painful anticipation, an electricity that made him lightheaded and eager. The opposite sensations left him disoriented. He needed to focus on one. He unwove a strip of leather from his armor and tethered the helm around his neck. That would need to do for now. He should leave it. They needed to test these in a controlled environment. But, instinct—

You’ll need me, Lieutenant.

Axel wanted to snap that he didn’t need anyone. A glance around the room proved no one had heard that but him. Maybe it couldn’t talk outside of Hecate’s realm.

Lucille had already lifted his breastplate to offer it to him.

Jack tugged at his hair, frantically looking from Axel, to Flynn, to Pax. “Oh, Lucille, keep my boy safe! He’s too young and pretty to die! We haven’t even gotten him a girlfriend or a solo in one of our concerts!”

Lucille giggled weakly. She couldn’t cover her mouth with a pilum in hand. “I’ll do what I can.” As Axel finished strapping on his armor, she turned to Pax. “Can you do me a huge favor?”

Three sets of eyes were intent on her: Pax’s multicolored ones, and the beady eyes of the two weasel kits.

“Go to the nursery and check on Charlie and Ethel for me.” Her eyes softened at the names. 

Oh, Fortune bless Lucille. That would get Pax out of harm’s way. Besides, he was an excellent playmate for Charlie.

They walked as Axel finished strapping on his armor. Lucille led him out. Goodbyes—did they properly say goodbye? He remembered ruffling Pax’s hair, trying to ignore how Pax’s eyes welled with tears, the same way they always did before his cage matches—Don’t you dare die—and ducking under Jack’s attempted hug.

Their hallway was an offshoot from the main one. The main one had descended into chaos. Monsters and demigods jostled past each other. The Luke-thing’s howls left them panicked, disorganized, and disoriented. Its order was so primal: after them.

“Please proceed to battle in an orderly fashion. Please keep your voices low so you can standby for more orders!” Lucille’s charmspeak was sweet and kind. She never had the projection that Flynn’s snarls had, but all the soldiers within hearing distance slowed, relaxed, and fell more into military lines. The calming effect rippled to the others rushing by.

With the mob partially tamed, Axel could see down the hall towards Luke’s quarters. Part of the ceiling was collapsed. Krios, one of the Titan lords, stood beside the rubble with his arms folded, tapping his left bicep. “If you can’t ask nicely for help,” he said, voice booming, “then you needn’t bother asking at all.”

“Imbecile,” the not-Luke snarled back.

Krios rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

At least the Titan Lords seemed unbothered by Luke’s and Kronos’ unholy matrimony.

Something about seeing Krios standing there left Axel confused. “Kampe is leading us?” he asked. Hadn’t Luke mentioned something about Krios leading them through the labyrinth? Axel finished strapping on his old helmet. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would keep his skull intact. His own confusion at the chain of events—going to Hecate’s realm, Flynn’s charmspeak, Kronos’ screams—was clearing.

Lucille nodded, helping up a demigod who had fallen in the chaos. “Yes.”

The younger camper blushed, thanked her, and darted after the others.

Axel felt skeptical. “But, she’s a jailor.” Did they give battle lessons in Grecian jail school?

“Luke gave her Ariadne’s string,” Lucille said, “The others are going to follow her.” She nodded to the disciplined line up at the labyrinth entrance. Because of newly established order, support was able to come through. Matthias could be seen walking down the line, chest puffed up and shoulders pulled back, as he handed out goody bags of ambrosia and, if Axel had to guess, fart bombs. He and a dracaena checked monster and demigod armor and handed out extra weapons.

Lucille continued, “She’s known to be a powerful entity—like Atlas. Why do you think Luke wanted Atlas when he had the other Titans?”

Recognition meant a lot to mythological beings. Axel clenched his jaw. Just another mythological aristocracy, as Alabaster would say. “Being a famous jailor doesn’t make a good strategist.”

They were approaching the labyrinth entrance. Axel had steered clear of this place, especially after Chris Rodriguez never came back. Selene Beauregard had told Luke that he was alive at Camp Half-Blood, but that he’d been left to babbling incoherence. Chris was the only one who had come out alive.

Another foolish scheme to send a demigod when a monster could thrive in the labyrinth.

Axel could see the mark of Daedalus. Alabaster had explained the symbol to him: a glowing blue D above the labyrinth entrance. Any time he walked in the hallway, it stuck out sorely: an exploitable security risk that had, indeed, been exploited. He didn’t understand why everyone had treated it like a kitty door for coatimundi to wander in. Jack and Pax had given him a weird look the day he’d growled, “It’s like no one else can see it.”

Watching how the others felt along the wall until finding a grip on the door, Axel realized the others really couldn’t see it.

Lucille glanced at him. “Are you nervous, Axel? It isn’t like you to protest so much.” She reached over to squeeze his arm. With Lucille’s status in the Attack and Battery unit and Axel’s recent rise to fame, no one minded how they cut in line. From the queasiness on some of the demigod’s faces, he assumed they wouldn’t have minded either way.

Axel stared at the entrance as they stepped up to it. He couldn’t stop his ears from twitching. Something felt wrong about this place. The strategist in him screamed. They were going underground—underground­—chasing after a demigod that could cause earthquakes. “What if Percy doubles back and collapses the tunnels on us?”

“Recent rumor has it, Percy sprinted away from Luke and did not look like he was coming back. He was scared of Kronos. We’re in his army and I’m scared of Kronos….” Her brow furrowed. “I’m glad Pax agreed to check on Charlie. I can only imagine how terrifying those shouts are for them.” She frowned, and reached to twirl a lock of hair that was tucked too far back to reach.

Axel winced. Them. She meant Charlie and Ethel. Ethel didn’t handle this kind of shouting well, and Charlie was only a kid. “If there’s one thing Ajax is good at doing, it’s distracting people from terror.” And he and Lucille both knew Pax would be a she (instead of a he) if it would make Ethel more comfortable.

Lucille might have been about to thank Axel.

“Move it,” a quivering voice came from behind them. Feigned bravado. Axel suspected the waiting was about the same as waiting for a delayed tooth extraction: sometimes you just want to get something over with.

Axel took a deep breath. “If I lose my mind and forget who I am, promise me you won’t let Ajax convince me I’m a famous weasel catcher on Discovery Channel.”

That earned a real giggle. Axel remembered how cute he thought Lucille was the first time he met her at Monster Donut, before he knew about Ethel. That seemed so long ago.

“Oh, don’t make me promise that! I think you’d make a charming show host.” She suddenly hopped onto the tips of her toes, coming close to his height. She rearranged her pilum, so she could hold it and her helmet in the same hand. With her hand freed, she gracefully lifted it up and lowered it towards Axel.

It took Axel a heartbeat or two to realize she was offering her hand the way she might for a ballet partner to spin her. Or for a partner dance? It was called something in French that Alabaster would have known.

Axel took his friend’s hand, sheepish at how scarred and rough his looked compared to her dainty fingers. The absurdity of it—a ballet pose before battle—made him laugh.

Axel had no delusions. She was holding his hand for his sake. A return laugh for the one his joke incited.

He and Lucille stepped into the darkness, hands held high, into one of the most dangerous places of the mythological world.

___

Thank all of you for reading! I think I rediscover my footing a bit better as a writer in the next chapter. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy! (AND THANK ALL OF YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS, ASKS, REBLOGS, AND SWEETNESS! You're making it so worth coming back! <3)

____

    

[1] Jack, “You’re old enough now that you can have your own room where your fanclub will know how to find you alone and, potentially, underdressed—“ Axel, “Ajax and I are still sharing a room.” Jack, “B—but your fan club!” Lou Ellen, “But your fan club!”

[2] Pax, “ARE YOU INSINUATING LUKE WAS ONCE A BABY PANDA--?!”

[3] Mathew 28.

[imaginechb]

Things the fandom often forgets about Jason Grace:

His mother abandoned him at 2 and he survived training with the wolf goddess Lupa at 3

He isn't some dumbass bro himbo like a lot of people think, he's actually really smart and knows a lot of things

He wears glasses and loses them a lot

He's one of the kindest demigods in both camps

He defeated the titan Krios with his bare f*cking hands

AND he killed the trojan sea monster

He isn't the "roman percy", and he's not some knockoff protagonist

He isn't trying to replace or compete with Percy

Percy and Jason actually hardly know each other and there really isn't much of a bromance there like people think (but if you wanna keep being delulu I respect it)

He toppled the black throne of Kronos and earned his position as praetor

He was literally praetor

Which led to him hardening a bit and put a lot of pressure on him to be a perfect leader

He once jumped into the grand canyon to save a girl he really didn't know that well, with no regard to the fact that he would literally die

HE LITERALLY DIDNT KNOW HE COULD FLY

He isn't boring, it's just that when we meet him in TLH we literally don't know him (and he doesn't either lmfao), we don't have the history and bond we do with Percy

He has a big smile and deep laugh

Jason didn't replace Percy at CHB, people were actually apprehensive of him whereas CJ pretty much DID replace Jason with Percy (treating him as a powerful leader and electing him praetor)

He was literally a child soldier and probably has a lot of issues because of this

He used to squint a lot before he got his glasses

People probably thought he was glaring or judging them, but in actuality he just couldn't f*cking SEE

He's actually a big softie and gives such golden retriever vibes

Canonically handsome

People think he's too perfect but that's because he had to be. He had so much pressure on him to be perfect all the time

He has a calm and steady voice, and even when he's yelling/speaking intensely, it's still steady and strong

TLDR; Jason is literally my fav and Jason hate will not be tolerated here thank you 🫶

[somewhereincairparavel]

hc that Jason has like the cutest giggle ever, like he only laughs most of the time, which is super rumbly and deep, but his giggles are just soo.. idk cute? Like his shoulders would shrug a little and he has a dimple on his left cheek that would show up (fight me, this is canon bc I said so) I feel like I can imagine he giggles super hard once, and the entire Argo ii would be dying of cuteness, I can literally imagine Percy and Leo doubling over laughing their guts out (even Nico would smile at that) bc Jason's giggle just seems super out of character for him cuz, hello? Here's the son of Jupiter, toppler of the black throne, slayer of krios, child of rome, praetor of CJ, out here giggling like a 5 year old girl?? Pure comedy, they'd never let him live that one down.

[pain-is-too-tired]

I still think about Jason having killed a whole titan in hand to hand combat.

Hc that Krios had killed one of the previous Preators before him that he was close to and he completely lost it.

Krios laughs at first when Jason starts fighting him, until Jason loses his weapon mid battle and keeps going.

He's sparking, his eyes are glowing with electric energy, the winds are picking up around them closing Krios in and Jason and fighting tooth and nail like a wolf.

Krios is taken by surprise because Jason isn't fighting in line with the other romans. Krios can't predict Jason the same way as before. He's full emotion. He isn't facing Juno and Rome's attack dog anymore, he's facing Lupa's wolf.

After Krios is defeated and the wind dies down around him, the others find him standing triumphant, covered in Ichor. And for once in a long while Jason is scary. They're so use to seeing the prestige of Jason being a son of Jupiter and Juno's favorite. They forget the raw power Jason really holds out of politics.

Kinda hard not to promote him when he's standing covered in the blood of the Titan.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Percy hates the Mars on sight but he's suprised to see he's not the only one.

The Romans straight up ignore him until he starts throwing a tantrum. And Octavian meets his gaze, cooly and says "well you're a bit late for that aren't you soilder?"

"What?"

"The battle" Said Octavian dryly. "You're late. 6 months in fact, but hey you at least showed up this time. So I suppose that's something."

There's laughter around the table and Percy wonders if he misjudged Octavian. "You are to do this quest for me, at once." Demands Mars.

Octavian smirks "I'm afraid I'll have to consult my superior. I am just a lowly Augur of course." He looks over at Reyna, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"What do you say? Praetor Ramirez Arellano of the 1st cohort and co-leader of the 12th Leigion Fulmimata." It doesn't escape anyone that Octavian calls Reyna by her full title with a level of respect he hadn't shown Mars at all.

"Denied." Says Reyna swiftly, a coldness in her eyes but Percy can tell she's fighting a grin. Octavian does grin, much like a Cheshire cat and turns to a seething Mars.

"There you have it, my hands are tied. Oh well come and try again next week."

Mars ignores him, his gaze on Reyna. Reyna meets his look without so much as flinching, she's the picture of relaxed and calm.

"You're orders do not succeed mine, Praetor."

"Why? Who died and made you consul?" Says Reyna, Octavian snorts as Dakota quietly explains the joke to Percy. Percy grins, oh he's going to love this.

"That would be him, Praetor." Remarks Dakota with a grim smile. "Ah, you're right my mistake." Says Reyna, she shakes her head and stands up.

As she does several soilders soo too, drawing their weapons and looking at Mars with cooled rage.

If he makes a move to hurt Reyna, they'd attack without hesitation.

"We will consider your request, if you give us a council with Jupiter."

Percy looked at Dakota, confused. "He's the King and Mars dad" he supplied, helpfully. Dakota looks down, angry "he's also Jason's dad."

Just the mention of his name put a frown on everyone's face, sadness in their eyes ignited with greif. Even Reyna wavered when she hadn't before, and Octavian blinked back tears.

Jason Grace meant everything to them.

Reyna's determination only grew. "I don't know what you've done to him. But I know you're all responsible, Jason was here one moment and gone the next. Our search parties keep going circles, and we know someone up there is interfering."

Reyna looks around and than at Mars and says defiantly. "I want Jason returned, or I will consider this an invitation to war."

Mars laughed.

"You? You dare to think you can face us?"

Reyna smiles, it is not kind. "Krios, younger brother of Kronos and one of the first original titans said the same thing. And Jason Grace, a mere demigod said if we both shall fall, I'll make sure you die first."

Everyone cheers, remembering that moment while Mars goes pale.

"Jason still lives while Krios is down in Tartarus. And you.. You took him from us, you forced us to fight alone in a battle that decimated our numbers."

Octavian puts a hand on her shoulder, noticing her voice tremble with rage. She takes a deep breath, a thankful look to one of her oldest friends.

Before taking a deep breathe.

"If he's not returned, I will fight Jupiter myself for his return."

And Percy didn't even need to look to know every demigod around them agreed with Reyna wholeheartedly.

And the way this was going, Percy would help.

[reddamselette]

Jason huffed. A shaking, stained hand of blood wiped the sweat of his forehead, smearing red across his skin. With his other hand, he tightened his grip on the lance, pointing the spear tip towards his target.

"Jason," Reyna called breathlessly from across, shaking her head almost pleadingly. He'd never seen that expression on her face, in her eyes. He could see it now. The terror overwhelming her body. "Don't. You— you can't hope to—"

"Look around, Reyna. There's— there's no one left." He raised his arms as weak as they were, as sore as they were from the endless bloodshed of fallen enemies and comrades. Among the very few Centurions of the cohorts, stood he and Reyna. But he knew.

He was helpless, useless, and alone. Time was running out. The clock to his life counted down the seconds and lives were lost, what was one more? What was another life sacrificed if the life itself was the reason they forced themselves upright against Titans?

The light in the eyes of the Legion faded away, gone in the wind like their plans for the future. They were to be buried, honored, never forgotten but in vain.

Jason took a step forward. Then another. Until he was face to face with his foe. Blond brows furrowed, electricity thrummed through his eyes and the faint scent of static rose in the atmosphere as blond hair raised and stretched in each direction as if he was underwater.

"I am the son of Jupiter!" He shouted with authority, clear blue irises stormed over with clouds of dark gray and his chest was on the verge of exploding. "I am a son of Rome, the Centurion of the Fifth Cohort. I bow to no tyrant."

A boastful laugh tore through the Titan Krios' throat, looking down his nose at Jason with distaste. "You cannot hope to defeat me, boy."

Jason held his lance high above his head, calling on the power of his father and welcomed the surge of power that coursed and slithered through his veins and body like a snake. "Don't you know Rome is well-known for overthrowing your kind?"

The son of Jupiter jumped high, willing the air to take him into the sky as he spun the lance around in his hands and pointed the weapon down at Krios, the spear aiming for the center of his forehead and between the eyes.

"Allow me to show you!" A clap of thunder clashed with bright and thick tendrils of lightning from the Heavens wrapped around the lance as Jason struck.

[messydiabolical]

I've been going though all my old documents of drell worldbuilding and such, so expect various snippets and rambles over the next few days! Kolyat Krios' early memories of his first home.

He was barely out of toddlerhood, and it was before his eidetic memory had fully taken hold. The memories he could recall from this time were hazy, there but hard to grasp. A lot like how the humans and turians seemed to describe their own memorisations.

He could see their first home in fragments. He knew it was small, cluttered, ramshackle. It was also very loving. An odd word to describe a building perhaps, but loving is how he remembered it.

 Mother bathing with me in the tiny shower, cursing when the hot water suddenly went out, then laughing it off. ‘Well that’s one way to really wake up and start a day!’ she waggles her eyebrows theatrically as she tickles my cold body through a towel, making me giggle, forgetting the chill. Her subvocal song trills in joy and I try to copy it, stuttered bursts of happiness in a staccato beat to her soothing tones.

 The neighbourhood was noisy, full of life and interesting, questionable smells.

Children were always outside, playing in the streets. Groups of teens and adults would also gather and mill about, though in retrospect, probably not for such innocent pursuits.

In the apartment upstairs someone was learning to play what sounded like an entire orchestras worth of instruments, taking a jack of all trades, master of none approach to the enterprise. They were very fond of practising late at night, the ceiling thudding with the beats.

A neighbour below them would watch Kolyat in the days while mother and father both worked. She was very old, saggy scales and eyes clouded over like the stormy clouds out beyond the dome walls. He adored her. She’d cook delicious soups that he’d gum and gnash at with his sprouting fangs, getting more all over his face and clothes than actually in his mouth. She’d just laugh in delight, rub his face with a cloth while he blew soupy raspberries in protest. She also loved to read storybooks, putting on funny voices for all the characters. Sometimes Kolyat would sleep over, and she’d make him a blanket fort on the sofa. Kolyat loved her very much.

‘Please Orla, I must insist you take some credits for your time.’ Mother shifts me on her hip. Her frillrings sparkle in the sputtering, broken hall light. I reach out with a pudgy little hand to play with them.

‘Now now dear, how many times must I insist. you keep those credits for him’. A wrinkly, gentle hand reaches over, stopping me before I grab too harshly on my silver hooped quarry.

Mother and father worked a lot. Mother seemed to like her work, exhausted as it left her. The same could not be said for father.

Father would come home from work dirty, dejected. Mother would rub his shoulders, kiss his cheek and put me on his lap, and he would melt a little. Kisses on my brow and a whispered promise. ‘I’ll make things better, do better for us’. Holds me a little tighter.

Kolyat can’t recall the exact words exchanged, but he remembers the night his parents fought, the first time he heard anything but loving devotion between them. The apartment only had one bedroom, so he usually slept in a crib he was vastly outgrowing, squeezed in next to his parents' bed. They had waited until he was asleep before bitter whispering began, then moved to the living room when it was clear things were escalating. It didn’t do much good; Kolyat had already woken up and the apartment had thin walls. It was a long night.

The next morning Thane was gone and Irikah, usually so positive, so determined, seemed to have lost a little spark about her. Usually when she made breakfast she would play music on her omnitool, singing off key and dancing as she moved.

That morning was too quiet, mothers movements too stiff and precise.

It was a Kalsef, a drell weekend day. Kolyat had begun to recognise patterns in time, knew that this was the day daddy always took him to the temple after breakfast while mummy got some me time.

‘Where daddy?’ the little drell asked, confused by the change in routine.

“He’s-” She pauses, looks side to side, runs her hand across her brow. She looks back up, leans across the table, strokes my cheek.

“He’s away on business Kolyat”.

Away on business. That was the first time he heard it. It would not be the last.

Three, perhaps four full Kalsefs passed, and father finally came home. He was dressed in sleek, fancy clothes, nothing like the overalls he’d worn for work before. He was smiling wide, rushed to Kolyat and swung him up in the air. Kissed mother and told them both he’d missed them so. Mother was all smiles too, but something was different. Something felt off to Kolyat. Like they were too eager, too desperate to seem normal, natural, which only served to make it feel unnatural.

A few days later they were packing up their meagre belongings. Emptying the apartment. A lot of it they didn’t bother with, too broken, not worth keeping. Father assured them they could get better things at ‘the new place’.

They travelled then, taking a skycar and then a shuttle, higher in the sky than kolyat had ever been. He clung fiercely to Thane when they looked out the windows, the vast oceans so far below, the islands and domes little specks on the surface.

“Fear not my son, we are quite safe. We’re going somewhere wonderful, you’ll see”.

Their second home was a lofty apartment at the very top reaches of the dome of Da’quin city.

The view out of the floor to ceiling windows made Kolyat feel sick. He had his own bedroom now, and he’d pile up toys against the glass planes, building a barrier between him and that fathomless fall. His new big bed accommodated his rapidly lengehtening limbs, but it felt so many miles away from mother and fathers bed. You couldn't hear the neighbours from the apartment. Never seemed to meet them at all; they could have been completely alone up there for all he knew. There were certainly no Orla’s in this building. He never saw her again. His second home was lonely.

[underdark-dreams]

🖤 WIP Whenever 🖤

Tagged by @commander-krios and @dutifullylazybread! Thank you both! No-obligation tags for your fic or art WIPs: @rolansrighthorn, @faerunsbest, @swordcreature

I thought I'd share more from my in-progress Rolan rut fic, Birds and Bees. It started as a one-shot and is now drafted out at 3 chapters (oops!)

(Featuring a new Tav! She's a ranger who swings by Sorcerous Sundries to do her alchemy when she's in the city, and attempts to flirt with the oblivious wizard in her free time)

A laugh came from behind his back. “Do you mind?”

Rolan turned to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her makeshift alchemy station with eyebrows raised. To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and playfully dropped the appendage off the edge of her work desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees nearly buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him as she ground something in her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“I need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

[happyk44]

Jason howling as a vocal tic on the ship, and it startles everyone else (except Hazel, who knew him briefly before he vanished and was aware that this was something he did). He's not ashamed of it, she can tell that much and, besides, he never seemed quite ashamed of it before, but this time, his shoulders are drawing up to his ears and he looks... frustrated.

Oh, she thinks. Camp is one thing - they already knew and it was understood as that thing that Jason did sometimes, same as with Dakota suddenly jumping rapidly while shaking his fists.

But this is a different setting, different people. Judging from Annabeth, Leo and Piper's faces, this wasn't something he demonstrated in front of them before. She'd only known him for a little bit, but she was well aware Jason didn't appreciate the label of "different". He was already that Roman kid that Percy was replaced - different in his mannerisms, his rigidity, the repressed snarl behind him lips.

At Camp Jupiter, he was Jupiter's son, the foregone leader. Stronger, more powerful. The child raised by wolves, the defeater of Krios. The golden boy.

He always laughed off when people said things like that. They were half-jokes. An easy kindness between friends, but reflecting on fact nonetheless. His teeth would always grit a little. His body tightening. Discomfort.

Just like now.

It didn't even register as a thought before she was already crossing to the other side of the boat. She leaned over the well crafted railing. Jason was stiff. His throat was so tense, she could imagine it like a rope, seconds away from splitting in half.

She turned to face the clouds like he was. Cleared her throat and howled alongside him.

She was not good at it. It was more of a "whoooo" than a real howl. But Jason didn't seem to mind as he shot her a quick look. It was kind of funny. It reminded her of little kids howling alongside their dogs.

Jason wasn't her dog however. But Frank was - sometimes.

She turned to where he had been reloading the cannons and jerked her head out to the clouds. He took the hint. Tightening the cannons back into place, he hopped over and leaned across the railing on Hazel's other side. His initial howl was a weak, cracked thing that her had giggling and him frowning. Jason wasn't stopping in his noise, but his shoulders shook anyway, a crooked grin cut against his lips as he howled.

Frank's head shifted into a proper wolf. This howl was lot better than the others. The sound of it, a rough guttural thing that trailed off like a song, encouraged Jason's own crooning. In seconds, it broke into a battle of who could do better.

Hazel accepted her loss with grace. Behind them, the others were still a little lost, but carrying on nonetheless. Sneaking peeks back at the three of them while they continued on. Annabeth ducked over to Percy. Their heads lowered together. She was probably asking him if this was a thing he saw at Camp Jupiter. A Roman child thing.

A wolf-trained thing.

He shrugged and gestured loosely outwards. He had not seen it. For starters, he hadn't been around long enough. And secondly, Jason was the only kid at Camp who howled like that. The little ones did sometimes, but they were strewn about New Rome playing pretend. Not howling because it itched a part of their brain that needed to be scratched.

The howling died off slowly, gently. Hazel steadied her grip against the railing and leaned back. Her feet kept her firmly planted. She held herself there for a moment. Then swung back up. The air rushed past her face and she exhaled with it.

"Better?"

Jason flexed his fingers one right after the other against the railing. "Better?" he echoed with a frown. "Better? Better?"

He was like a parrot.

Hazel snorted and tilted her head back. "Helloooo," she drawled.

His head snapped up from where he'd dropped it to mumble to himself. The echo was instant. "Helloooo!"

"Hello!" she called back.

He clicked his tongue twice then, "Helloooo!"

She grabbed his hands and began jumping fast like Dakota would. Frank's warm hand steadied against her back. Jason "hello"ed one more time before copying her. Big jumps with knees pulled up as far as they could go, calves tucked into thighs, and head ducked over. They mimicked Dakota's tight fists with their entwined grip.

"Hello!" she shouted with every bounce. The word tied up on her tongue quickly.

Jason echoed the greeting back for a few seconds before devolving into his repeated chant of "teeth".

Hazel did not understand what exactly was soothing about the word "teeth". "Hello" made sense. Even "Reyna" was a good one. "Teeth" was a gritted word that just sounded menacing as fuck and did not tickle any part of her brain.

So she stuck with with a repeated and enthusiastic "hello" for the couple minutes they jumped in tandem. Her legs ached by the time they faded into a slow stop, Jason's words quieting down into steady silence and breathing.

She keeled over and gripped her knees. "How the fuck does Dakota do that?" she panted. She held her head back. "Gods-dammnit - he makes it look so easy."

"He makes it look like he's having a spasm of some kind," Frank said. "Or a tantrum because someone drank all his koolaid."

Jason snorted. Damn, sky baby was breathing fine. She almost wanted to whack him for it. But instead she just rose up and leaned against Frank's strong center.

"Better?" she asked.

He ran his hand through his short tufts of hair. "Yeah," he said. He gazed off into the clouds, then back at her with a quiet smile. "Thanks."

She waved him off. "It's fine." She gestured towards the inside of the boat. "Do you want me to explain it?"

She wasn't fully sure how to explain it though. It's just a thing that he does sometimes, they'd said about Jason. If it interrupts a conversation, just wait a moment. And that was it.

Dakota's was explained a little better. It's not because I'm hyper, he'd said. But sometimes I get all, like, tense and stressed and it helps me shake it out.

She'd stared at him. Then said, Being at Camp doesn't help you shake it out? I think I've ran around more here than I did when I was a kid.

He'd laughed and bumped her with his shoulder. Nah, it's not like that. That's energy. This is different. Like when you sit and bounce your leg. But that's controlled. This is like my brain telling my body it's full, and we gotta let some stuff out or I'll explode. I can feel it coming on, but I can't stop it.

Kind of like going to the bathroom, she'd thought. How many times had she'd bolted through the door and race to the toilet before it could all come rushing out of her without permission? And when she did make it, sat down and let go, the relief was instantaneous.

Was Jason's like that? It had to be similar. Being on the boat, sailing right towards the enemy, yet another war slapped on his back, knowing that his home felt betrayed by him, dealing with being possessed back and forth, being the only one who could handle all the bitter wind and sky spirits that attacked them - his brain had to be sending out multiple alarms to his body telling him to let go or implode by now. Probably had started days ago. When Leo made the first attack and everything went downhill.

He didn't say anything, but his brows were furrowed. "I-" He grit his teeth. "I'll do it. It's fine."

She played with Frank's fingers. The two of them shared a brief look. Then she kicked the side of his foot with hers. "I'll do it, Jason."

He scowled. "I can-"

"Shut up, I'm doing it," she said. She eased off of Frank and prodded Jason in his belly. "I already decided and I'm older than you so shush."

He blinked, almost owlishly. The tension in his shoulders stuck, high and tight. Then slowly began to drift down. He opened his mouth then clamped it shut, staring back out into the clouds.

"Okay," he said softly after a few seconds of plaintive silence.

She poked his belly again. "Whoooo."

Frank came up beside her. "Whooooo."

The corner of Jason's lip twitched. He tilted his head ever so slightly to catch them both with his electric eyes. It was quiet, then he laughed soundlessly, and gave a quiet, "Whooo" back.

[astorythatwritesitself]

There Will Be Time

Fandom: Mass Effect

Rating: Gen

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairing: Thane Krios/Shepard

Additional tags: Prompt Fill, Memory Loss, Post-Reaper War.

Excerpt:

It’s been six months, since the war’s end. One, since the prognosis. ‘A matter of weeks,’ the doctor had said. 'Two or three months, if you’re very lucky.’ Adrian had taken it fairly well, all things considered. Vanished for a few hours, along the beach trails near their home, but there had been no tears when she returned. Hardly even a tremor in her voice, when she’d said: 'we always knew we were on borrowed time.’ Thane is simply grateful for each day that passes without incident.

Yeah, the AO3 version turned into a whole other thing lol. Original answer/draft is still up for posterity though, just no longer in the ship tag lol.

(Brief excerpt of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Elliot)

'She could be wrong, siha-’ Thane starts. Starts, but the words catch in his throat as Adrian presses closer, arms tightening around his waist. Her lips brush his shoulder - or so he chooses to believe. He can’t bring himself to look, to see if she is crying.

‘You can rebuild a lot of things, but a brain’s pretty high up there in ‘experimental’,’ she replies, only the faintest of tremors in her voice. ‘I'd… always wondered. If it wouldn’t burn out fast, or break down - and that’s on its own, being around that much Reaper crap? If they were trying to indoctrinate me or anything…’

That’s as far as the conversation goes. The next day - week, ultimately - will be for shoring up what she’d prepared during her arrest, handling any other affairs. What remained of the night was simply to be enjoyed, to commit to memory all they could, before the chance passed by.

----

It's little things, at first. 

A misplaced item. More notes around the house - reminders of appointments, when to feed the fish, where things were. Tasks left undone. Dropping things, because her hands won't cooperate. Things that are easy enough to overlook - even laugh about, if it's a good day, things that could happen to anyone and mean nothing. He helps her clean up, she releases a statement that she is tired and done, and would like to enjoy some time with her husband, anyone looking for information can ask any of the other survivors of the war. 

Which is true enough.

That she's unable to completely recall the orders of events, or what even happened, isn't information the wider media needs.

----

There is still time, Thane tells himself, when he awakens to find Shepard still asleep. Some mornings he does get up - catch up on messages, let the others know how things stand. Sometimes he meditates, often he walks.

Sometimes, he writes, when it's too much to bear.

More often than not, though... he lingers. There is time, and he knows better, now, than to risk letting it slip away. Knows to enjoy the warm weight of her arm around his shoulders now, the soft, even sounds of her breath, and how lovely it is (all else aside), that she is able to sleep peacefully at last, old nightmares either forgotten or distant enough to no longer matter.  Things that will, yes, be only memory - but how often had he regretted every moment denied, with Irikah and Kolyat? Moments lost before he even knew they were there? 

Not again. 

---------

Four months along, and there are more notes, fewer models, more muddying of when something did or should happen. Longer pauses in conversation, where she struggles to find her words.

He asks (only partially from the doctor's suggestion) if she could share a poem with him - he loves hearing her recite, no two ever quite alike. Remembers from their time aboard the Normandy, the hazy warmth in her voice as the words flowed, swift and clear, her love for them sweeping him along even when they didn't translate so well.

The words do come. Slow and faltering and in a hollow, clipped tone - 

“And would it have been worth it, after all,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

After the cups-

“No-" She shakes her head, biting her lip and drumming her fingers on her thigh.  "Wait, no that... that goes the other way around, doesn't it.”

Her voice trembles - breaks, just the slightest bit, on those last words.

"It's a long one, siha," Thane says. "You've stumbled on this one before, it's-" 

It's nothing to worry about, he wants to say, but can't. Adrian rests her head on his shoulder, eyes closed as if they could stop the tears trailing down her face. She's stumbled before, yes... but would that provoke such a reaction?

So, instead - he draws her close. Closes his eyes, focusing first on keeping his own voice steady as he picks up where she left off, then as she joins in, as he guides her through the rest. Better that, than leaving it silent and incomplete; and the shorter ones come to her quick as they ever have. 

----

He’s steeled himself as best as he can, to spend no time mourning now. Not while she's here, when there’s still more good days than bad. More days than they’d dreamt of having when they’d first met, more days than seemed possible, during the war.

A day like this, where Shepard is already awake, taking over the kitchen table with her latest ship model, and Thane almost believes that their future stretches out far and away, beyond anyone's predictions. Her hands are steady, and he can almost forgive the faint, burnt odor lingering in the air, because it means she’s remembered to eat on her own. He sits beside her, and they talk for a while - about Vega’s upcoming visit, the inaccuracies of the Normandy model strewn before her, Kolyat’s last message; and all the while, her words come without trouble, with no grasping or fumbling to recall this detail or that.

----

“We don’t have anything else going on today, right? I was thinking, maybe we could go to the beach,” Shepard says after a while, as she starts cleaning up her workspace. “It’s beautiful out there, today.”

Thane hums a brief agreement from where he stands, just behind where she sits, clearing up the last of the dishes of his meal. “That would be lovely, siha,” he replies. Sets the plate aside and turns, resting a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. Is about to say something, when she looks up at him, a faint and fretful half-smile on her lips.

“I think my translat-”

Her expression falters - confusion and then a slow, horrified comprehension.

( ’I think my translator just glitched. What did you call me?’ )

She grips his hand as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. He leans down, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, all the while reminding himself, there will be time to mourn later, there is time together now.

But gods, it's growing short.

[xx0yeet-everything0xx]

i just think it would be funny if percy assumed that jason defeated krios through something magic or with a bit of help or anything, but then one day he learns that. oh no. for all his abilities, jason cannot turn a titan into something else, he can only batter the mortal form so much that it's practically a kronos-cut-into-pieces scenario. and that's exactly what happened.

hazel once mentioning that although jason was so much nicer, people had been more wary of him when she'd first entered camp. reyna saying that it was because of the krios fight, and jason being incredibly vague about what happened and everyone assumes he just summoned a huge-ass storm. reyna knows, but bites her tongue.

and then, one day, it's gwendolyn that tells percy. "you did not want to see what happened to krios."

"was he electrocuted or something?"

she laughs. "none of us got to see the fight, because the two had been in the middle of a hurricane. but when the storm fell apart, i was the first to see jason, and the only one who saw what exactly happened. i'll never forget it: this kid, stumbling forward, dropping a titan's war helmet from his hands, and his face and clothes were all dripping with ichor. behind him, there's a mass of flesh. maybe someone could identify the legs or arm. but where the head should be, there's only... only goo. "

gwen shakes her head slightly. "for some reason though, what stuck to me the most was his expression. the way his eyes had been wide and blank, like a small child. in a moment, he was back to praetor, but right then... it was as if he was confused. that he had no idea what exactly he'd just done."

[lilmissnatcat24]

i need to know more abt this shakarian regency au!!

hehe thank you! regency au's are my guilty pleasure lol

“I fear I am nearing the title of spinster more and more each day, precariously so,” Shepard said. “Most notably after the disastrous failures to court her grace, Princess T’Soni, it seems the queue of suitors I possess dwindles by the hour.” 

Garrus, placing his elbow on the table in front of him, leaned in, his monocle twinkling in the candlelight. “You know, an observation I have often made of humans--” 

“Oh, please, my lord. I am simply ravenous at the thought of hearing your well-researched and perfectly sound opinions of my race,” Shepard said sarcastically, placing a condescendingly light hand on the bare skin of her chest. 

Garrus gave a snorting little half chuckle, barely even enough to actually quantify as a laugh, as if emotion was something that needed to be censored before it graced his face. “As I was saying, for how confident you humans portray yourselves to be, it is often muddled with the cripple of deprecating dubiety. No doubt you could find a suitor, there is still time before the season is over.” 

“Could I now?” Shepard asked with an all-too cynical glance at Garrus. “And who might you suggest, my lord?” 

“I don't know!” Garrus said, in mock offense. “It’s your suitor after all, isn’t it? Come now, Miss Shepard, you can’t honestly tell me that not one eligible spouse has caught your attention this entire season?” 

“Well…” Shepard said, her eyes searching up at the frescos on the ceiling, as if they held all of the answers for her. “Perhaps the Viscount, Lord Taylor, would not be a horrible prospect.” 

Garrus made a twisted sort of face at that. It was hard to pinpoint the emotion exactly. But it looked as though someone had wafted a pile of varren dung underneath his nose, yet he was attempting to be polite about it. It almost made Shepard laugh, had it not been Vakarian, who was still in her mind’s eye to be her sanctimonious mortal nemesis. 

“You disapprove, my lord?” Shepard asked, not attempting to cover up the sarcasm oozing from her tone. 

“I shall not comment on whomever has caught your eye as a suitor,” Garrus said, awfully pompous and polite. It was as if someone had trained him on exactly what a gentleman should say in exactly every conversation-- which was about as charming as talking to an elcor about international politics. “However… I will say… has the Viscount not struck you… as…?” His words hung in the air, struggling to find a logical adjective that was both biting and horribly civil.

“Careful now, my lord. You risk an ulcer with all of that thought.” 

“Dull,” Garrus finished, looking awfully pleased with himself. 

“Yes,” Shepard said after some careful consideration. “Yes, I suppose the Viscount is not the most rousing of gentlemen, particularly in social settings. Although, I will not deny that, at the bare minimum, he is not unpleasant to gaze upon.” 

“Why, Miss Shepard,” Garrus said, looking terribly offended. Yet his voice trembled with the lightness of humor. “I never knew you to be so shallow.” 

“Then you do not know me well at all, my lord, for I am nothing more than a vain, vapid creature,” Shepard said. “Perhaps then, Miss Chambers may be better suited for me, would you agree?” 

That same, pained expression flitted across Garrus’s face, but this time he did not seem to struggle as much to be polite. “And she, you don’t find awfully eager?”

“Is it a bad thing to be eager?” 

“Pardon the assumption, but you do not strike me as the type of person that needs to talk in length about your ever-confounding feelings each waning hour of the day.” 

Shepard paused. No, she was not that person. Although, she would not give Garrus the satisfaction of making the correct assumption, so she remained silent. That seemed to please him well enough, as a soft, trilling noise came from deep in his chest. 

“Well then, what of Lord Krios? He is a friend of yours, is he not? Surely you could not find fault in his character as my future husband?” 

“You would risk scandal yet again to marry a widower, fifteen years your senior?” Garrus said, this time sounding genuinely offended. “Come now, Miss Shepard, surely you do not have such a harsh opinion of yourself.” 

“Then who shall I marry?” Shepard asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Seeing as you shot down every eligible prospect that still may look my way after my failure with Princess T’Soni?” 

“I suppose you could find yourself a true myriad of suitors,” Garrus said, gesturing at the rest of the party carrying on behind the two of them. “Once they find your true, stimulating nature--?” 

“Stimulating?” Shepard repeated with a laugh. 

Garrus’s neck seemed to turn slightly blue. He adjusted the tassel around his carapace, which looked to be an awfully itchy garment he wore. “I mean to say you can carry a conversation better than half the people in the ton. And-- I fear to admit this, seeing as it would go straight to your head-- but your quick wit is sure to charm the odd suitor or two. Although, I will say that it is often sullied with sarcasm and offensive remarks, so I would advise you to watch your tongue.” 

“My lord, that may be the kindest thing I’ve ever heard uttered from your lips,” Shepard said, oozing with all of that offensive sarcasm that so sullies her speech. 

“And, well, if I’m being perfectly honest, you are not a wholly unappealing person upon the eyes--” 

“You flatter me so.” Except Garrus, for some reason, was seeming to look everywhere but her at the moment. At his silver cutlery in front of him, at the porcelain plates with food gone yet untouched, at the silver wine goblets that certainly were touched. “If you are so keen to sing my praises, then why is it that you do not marry me yourself?” 

Shepard knew as soon as she said it that it was not the right thing to say. Garrus, who was already peaky, seemed to turn positively gray at the comment. He opened his mouth several times as if to say something, then closed it, giving the distinct impression of a fish that had been taken out of the water only to flounder helplessly on land. Shepard felt a blush rise in her cheeks. She was acutely aware of the corset that was digging in her ribs, and the complete lack of cool air around her, thick and claggy and threatened to suffocate her.

[dutifullylazybread]

WIP tag game

Thank you @freesidexjunkie for tagging me. This came at just the right time--I have JUST the little tidbit to share with everyone. Tagging @el-tur-el, @lostinforestbound, @darkurgetrash, and @commander-krios. No pressure at all to respond to the tag, but you're always welcome! :)

SO HERE IS A LITTLE SOMETHING SOMETHING FROM CHAPTER 10. It's a lil spicy:

Warning ahead--this isn't edited. So it might be rough.

“Gods, damn it all!” Tav hissed. She stood in the dead center of her room, fighting to untie the laces running down her back.

She had noticed a knot, a small, hardly noticeable thing, as she dressed for her performance earlier that day. She hadn’t thought it would make it next to impossible to remove the damn thing.

She pushed a hand through her hair. She could always go to dinner like this and say that she had gotten distracted by something or another beforehand.

“Tav? Are you almost ready?” Rolan wrapped on her bedroom door. 

“No,” she said with a sigh.

“May I come in?”

She pulled the door open for him.

“There’s a knot in the lacing,” she said. “I can’t even loosen the blasted thing.” She tried to gesture at the lacework running down her back, though she didn’t know how much good she was doing when she could only vaguely motion to the problem. “Could you… help me with this?”

Rolan stiffened. “Are you—” He cleared his throat. “But of course. Turn around.”

“If you’re not comfortable with this—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Turn around.”

Tav did so. She faced her desk, where the small vanity mirror reflected the two of them. Rolan tested the laces, plucking and tugging until he found enough give to work with. His face was flushed a wine-dark red, and he kept his focus trained on the back of her bodice.

“Perhaps it’s time to look into different outfits for the performances,” he said.

He tugged Tav back into him when he pulled on the lacing a bit too roughly. 

And in the mirror, Tav watched Rolan’s gaze slide to the swell of her breasts—quickly, before he forced himself to resume.

After ten minutes of toiling, the knot was undone, and her bodice loosened. She caught the front of her dress as the fabric began to peel away, revealing the shading of her nipples. The cold air hit her exposed back.

“I’ll… let you take care of the rest,” Rolan said. In the mirror, she saw him avert his gaze.

“You know…” Tav said slowly. “I wouldn’t mind your help undressing the rest of the way.”

He lurched to a halt, his shoulder jarring into the doorframe. “Don’t be silly, you can manage that much on your—”

Realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

“Oh… Oh.”

She bit back a laugh. True, she hadn’t even kissed his lips yet, but she wasn’t opposed to their first kiss being in the throes of passion.

Uncertain, Rolan came to stand behind her. He resumed unlacing her bodice, his fingers gentle, precise… and shaking.

“Rolan, you don’t have to—” Her sentence melted into a moan when he pressed his lips into the slope of her neck. His chuckle, muffled against her skin, coiled beneath her naval and drew a blush to her upper chest and neck.

His hands drifted down to her skirt fabric, balling it up in two fists at her waist. He dragged her against him, the texture of his robe dragging over her bare back. His cock was hard, pressing into her ass.

She couldn't resist. She rolled into him, and he shuddered around her.

[starlightshadowsworld]

The 1st were all fighting Krios, who was deciminating their numbers. Jason had raised concerns, along with Reyna and others that a united front was better than one alone.

But the 1st were very prideful. Jason may be the son of Jupiter, but he was lower ranked. To ask for his or anyone else's support felt like an insult.

And here Jason was, saving them because of their idiotic pride. "You can punish me later" He said, slightly exasperated when the 1st's centurion glared at him.

If they survived this.

Jason was content to lend support and fight as a team, but Krios just had to pick him out from the pile. "Son of Jupiter! You will fall by my hand like your father shall after you!"

Just by the sound of his voice, Jason was frozen. His power was overwheliming, it was like nothing Jason had ever faced before.

"Grace! Stand down! If you steal this victory from us, by Jupiter I will have your head."

Jason could've laughed. He was facing down death itself and that's what concerned them. Jason had half a mind to push the centurion into Krios's path, let him duel the Titan himself.

But Jason would not. He was terrified, how... How could he even hope for victory? A mere demigod couldn't defeat a titan alone but this was all they had. Jason might be strong, but he was nothing compared to the stars themselves.

"Jason!"

Jason took off his eyes of the Titan and looked at Reyna. She was fighting alongside the 2nd, having known better. And Jason wished he was at her side.

"You can do this, I believe in you!" And it was like magic, suddenly all his worries and fears went away. Who cared about the odds? If Reyna said he could do it, than he could.

"I believe in you too" Said Jason back, and she laughed. It was warm, bright and if it was the last thing Jason heard he'd die happy. "Orders denied sir" said Jason, and off he went.

[anotheroceanid]

Oh my gods thank you for answering me I'm about to sleep so I'll annoy you more tomorrow if you keep answering my asks, Kronos thoughts on Percy? Just because of the Rhea dress up series I'm now starting on your ask blog

Don’t worry, it’s nice talking ✌️

Hm… okay, but as I said, Titans can be creepy. (this can be considered a bit darker than the previous snippets, and it gets a bit of titan lore from WTHB, but nothing that counts as an spoiler)

You know these old guys who will look at you and tell you that you look just like their deceased wives? That was Kronos. But at a much younger age, Percy thought it was super normal being compared to a long-recluse titaness.

See, everything was happening so fast ever since he got to camp, that never once he reflected much on the “you look like your grandma” talks. He thought it meant in a “she sided with the Olympians too, now they’re not even on speaking terms with her anymore”, and coming from the guy who ate his kids, Percy wasn’t paying much attention.

Years later, it definitely snapped to him.

Probably talking to one of the other elder titans, he’d come to realise how much Kronos used to really compare him to his former wife. Even in the way he spoke to Percy. Weird. Weird. Weeeeird.

The thing is: after a millennia or two living on Tartarus (and worse, without a body), you don’t end up well. Kronos, all his siblings would confirme, was never in a good place… mentally speaking.

Their father detested him more than he detested anyone else, and in the meanwhile Ouranos worshiped the ground Rhea walked on. And Kronos had a huge, huuuuge crush on her ever since… ever. No need to say that Ouranos was 100% against it, that was his little girl, his favourite, the jewel of his world, one good thing about having kids is that one of these kids were Rhea.

But Rhea liked Kronos too, when he was just that silly guy that made her laugh, so she hoped eventually Ouranos would soften a bit to this potential relationship. Well, it never happened. The whole thing with the coup went on. Rhea could’ve told his father that her mother and brothers were conspiring against him, but turned out she liked Kronos more than she liked their father.

Kronos was very smug about it.

About the time the coup happened, some of the titans were already married. Tethys and Oceanus had a lot of kids already, Hyperion and Theia had Helios and Selene already, and it was just a matter of time before Koios and Phoebe started having kids too. Krios was trying to woo his violent sea lady and Iapetus was doing just alright as a bachelor (until Clymene was born, but that’s an entirely different story), and the other titanesses were still in their “Boys??? Ew!!!” era. So, Rhea and Kronos got together. Everyone knew it’d happen. Happy ending, right?

Nope. As stated before, Kronos never been in a nice mental state. But Rhea loved him very much, and thought Kronos’ turmoil was just a matter of time (yes, a pun) and that he’d be fine sooner than later and would like have kids just as much as Hyperion but a little less than Oceanos (she didn’t want to have that many kids).

Then, she got pregnant. And he ate the baby. Then again. Then again. Then again. Well, we all know the story about how it got to the rock.

But Kronos… not so much. Maybe something deep (as Tartarus) down, he felt bad about it. Maybe he did want to have kids. Maybe he even liked the kids that he had. He made a joke about his daughters’ future weddings on the day Helios got married to Oceanos’ eldest girl, Perseus, who was Kronos’ favourite niece. He spoke about them like they were sitting just beside him, not in the bottom of his stomach. That was terrible. Rhea cried a lot.

So everything to say: Kronos is not very aware of reality as it is. He’s a terrible person (titan, whatever), but he’s also a very confused one. So at the sight of Percy, he didn’t see Percy… At least, not all times. Usually, he’d see Rhea playing in a younger, boyish figure. Sometimes, he’d see his enemy. And sometimes, it’d mix. And if Rhea was a bit wilder, well, he wasn’t exactly the same either, so whatever.

And if if Rhea had loved him more than she loved her father once, maybe it could work again, right?

But Luke didn’t want to cooperate with this part of his plan. Thankfully.

[faerunsbest]

Tav Character Worksheet: Ma'na

(i wasn't sure if you wanted dwylla or the new tav ma'na so im using this to flesh out mana)

with Ma'na i haven't even built her up in bg3 i just built her like Dwylla. with whatever i was capable of doodling and what i know from playing and researching.

as far as tags uhh if you guys wanna play @dutifullylazybread @falcatamandarina @cinnasalmon @commander-krios

thank you elven-e-girl

Name: ma'na its a joke because mages need mana and i made her for rolan! haha i thought it was funny anywho

Age: shes early to late 30's but doesn't actually know how old she is as she doesn't count it or celebrate birthdays.

Gender:female, happily woman although she does not limit herself to 'fem' activities and the like

Sexuality:Bisexual. she find herself attracted to certain features (dark eyes//split tongue//ect) although you can be none of the things she finds attractive and still land her if you make her laugh and feel safe

Pronouns:she/her

Tav voice:n/a

Family:Ma'na is one of 23 children. they are drowe that work mines, there are so many of them for the same reason farmers used to have a million kids. its cheaper to raise em then hire em. She used to be a rather mid worker but was prominent for the sole reason of she

Birthplace: Somwhere between mintar and thornwood there is mine. that mine is where she was born and where she lived her life

Job(s): she has done very little as since she was born she as told her purpose. to work. manual labor, mining, building, digging, demolition and all that comes with helping keep her family up and running

Phobia(s): drowning/suffocating ,nothing terrifies her as much as not being able to just perform the basic task of breathing

Guilty Pleasures:in all honestly she feels guilty about wanting to be wanted for more than she can offer.

she feels guilty about feeling pleasure in her body and her form, things like touching cuddling, kissing fucking and masturbating makes her feel likes shes doing something wrong

Hobbies:singing. sculpting sewing

she sings in the mines and her voice echoes down cold stone keeping people awake, sending chills when you've forgotten shes there.

with all the clay she pulls up from the soil, she pressed her fingers deep appreciating the feel of around her fingers, pressing, pulling stretching and smoothing clay until it resembles someone or something

she loves fixing old clothes, stitching in little pictures to make broken old worn out things feel new and loved still

alignment chaotic good. overall she wants good happy things but people aren't always good and she sometime retaliate with excessive violence or some form of mischief

sins.previous to the nautiloid she didn't have a lot of opportunity to commit any notable sin. even so probably the most notable things shes done is sleep with Dammon when she was supposed to be working. she also kicked the absolute living shit out aradin far past a singular punch

virtues: she does her best to believe people are good and give them a few chances to be good which is why she wont let astarion ascend

This or That?that?

Introverted or extraverted? depends on the day, but mostly extroverted

Organized or disorganized?mostly organized but any more than is useful

Closed or open-minded? forever curious shes quite open minded

Calm, anxious, or restless? calm, theres very little that sirs anxiety in her. shes always very much 'ill either die or i wont'

Disagreeable or agreeable?usually very agreeable as she just wants to enjoy herself

Cautious or reckless? moderately cautious

Patient or impatient? very patient, she willing to wait for good things

Outspoken or reserved?depends on the topic, shes very reserved with gale as she like to let him yammer but with astarion and laezel she feels its incredibly important they know how she feels

Leader or follower? she never lead anything until the nautiloid, as long as she knows what needs to be done she can lead but prefers to just do her part and be done

Empathetic or apathetic?incredibly empathetic

Optimist, pessimist, or realist?somewhere between optimist and realist, as in do the best with what you've got but a person can not expect miracles

Traditional or modern? whatever is easiest and most efficient she has no qualms in either direction

Hardworking or lazy? she will as hard as is needed but no harder than is required

OTP: ma'na and rolan my loves

BROTP:astarion/ ma'na they talk a lot, about things they wish would or wouldn't have happened. when he offers to please her at the grove she catches him outright, stating she wont touch him unless that what he wants, actively wants. he's so thrown off guard they wind up sitting out there talking until its time to leave in the morning

NOTP:SHADOW HEART

they just do not mesh and shart doesn't join them on the mission despite being rescued on the ship