#Poseidon to stop it and given Poseidon gives in in the end - then clearly he could of?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingsonne-zedecks · 6 months ago

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I mean. We're entitled to different interpretations at the end of the day. I will say that I do think your interpretation feels like it starts with the base assumption that Eurylochus is dumb and bad and at fault and then works backwards from there under some faulty assumptions.

I don't think Eurylochus opened that bag out of fear. That's not what I was saying. Needing to know whats in the bag for sure doesn't need to come from a place of fear.

There are many pieces of knowledge that we as listeners have that neither Odysseus or Eurylochus have. And many that Odysseus has and doesn't share with Eurylochus. Eurylochus's actions can't be judged based on things he doesn't know, especially when the fact that Odysseus not telling him things is central to the trust struggle.

You talk about how unhelpful Eurylochus is when it comes to having a plan to survive the storm. But Eurylochus can't know that the storm is from Poseidon. They shouldn't even have been in the storm in the first place. Attempting to sail straight through it was another decision Odysseus made on his own that only seems logical when you know he is the main character. Within the story its a dumb ass move. They should have skirted the storm or found somewhere to wait it out. Even at Aeolus's palace, Odysseus's plan rested entirely on his own hubris. The idea that of course he'd be able to smooth talk a god into giving him what he wants. None of these plans are reasonable, no matter what Odysseus thinks.

Eurylochus and the crew don't know what happened with Aeolus. From the listener's perspective, the chain of events is as clearly logical as you claim: Odysseus goes up, the storm stops, Odysseus comes down with a bag holding the storm. Therefore, the bag obviously holds the storm. Except that's not at all the most logical or likely explanation from the crew's perspective. From their perspective—Captain goes up, talks to the wind god, the storm stops—is a complete explanation. Why would a god put the storm in a bag? It doesn't make sense at all!

The other unknown knowledge is the fact that the bag can't be closed. Its a simple thing. Odysseus knows, we know. But only us. Eurylochus can't know that. That's the whole point. Odysseus isn't sharing important information with his second in command.

So let's reject the assumption that Eurylochus doesn't have any actual thoughts, emotions, and motivations beyond the urge to be contrarian and ask ourselves what he is going through for these nine days. The treasure rumor is spreading through the crew, they are sneaking about trying to open the bag, Odysseus isn't sharing any information with his second in command, his friend is destroying himself trying to stay awake guarding the bag until finally, he falls asleep.

At this point, there are certainly crew members who want to open the bag and see the treasure the king is hiding from them. Eurylochus's trust of his Captain is hanging by a thread. Sure, he's probably telling the truth, but can Eurylochus be certain? Can he stand with the Captain against the crew when the Captain won't stand with him?

Consider this possible motivation then. Eurylochus is second in command, his role is to stand between Captain and Crew and to speak for both. He will open the bag, not the crew. He will open it just a crack, not enough to let the storm that is almost certainly inside out, just enough for him to know for sure—to soothe his own doubt—and then he can tell the crew with absolute certainty that the Captain is telling the truth.

Remember, no one has given Eurylochus any reason to believe that the bag can't be easily closed again. So he opens it the slightest bit, and the storm blasts free, opening the bag the entire way.

You're right that Eurylochus doesn't really have any plans of his own. That's something I've talked about in other posts. But Odysseus doesn't either. The last time Odysseus planned ahead he tricked the Trojans with a wooden horse, slaughtered them while they slept, and killed a baby, and he's been drowning in guilt ever since. From Full Speed Ahead until Suffering, Odysseus doesn't plan, he just pushes forward, never stopping, relying on his wit to get them through. And people died on it.

You can recognize that they both share responsibility for what happened, but it only seems to be Eurylochus that earns your ire. Is not the entirety of the existing Sagas the crew being sacrificed to pay for Odysseus's mistake with the Cyclops?

The Odyssey is a tragedy. Odysseus and Eurylochus are two sides of the same coin, equally dammed and doomed by the narrative. The tragedy comes from the fact that at any moment things could have gone better if they made different choices, but that as characters they could never make any choices other than what they did.

Eurylochus isn't the Antagonist. He's not the Villain. He's no more the reason for anything that they go through then Odysseus is. Removing his depth of character to treat him as though he is—as someone deserving only of anger rather than pity—cheapens the character of Odysseus as well, and robs the story of its richness.

More Eurylochus content.

Something that I think isn't talked about enough in Epic conversations is what it means for Eurylochus to be Odysseus's right hand man, his second in command.

The second in command isn't supposed to be a perfectly obedient follower who never questions their Captain. He is supposed to be a second brain, a fresh set of eyes, someone that Odyssues can rely on to help him chart a surer course (metaphorically and literally). And yes, the second in command supposed to disagree with their leader when they are making a bad decision—to be the voice of reason. Eurylochus is the go-between for Captain and Crew, advocating for both.

And Odysseus doesn't listen to him. Ever. In full speed ahead Odysseus acknowledges Eurylochus's concern to some extent, but that's the last time. The more time passes the less Odysseus pays any attention to Eurylochus's concerns, until we reach Luck Runs Out. At which point Odysseus is done and decides to shut down Eurylochus for good. Its also the last time Odysseus chooses to run his plan by Eurylochus before enacting it.

Here is where the Bag comes into play. Odysseus comes down from Aeolus's palace carrying the wind bag and attempts to brush off Eurylochus and the crew when they ask about it. He did not need to do this. He could have just explained what it was from the start, but Odysseus is done sharing his plans and having them questioned.

As a result he is on the back foot once the winions claim its treasure. Only then does he explain. We know he's telling the truth from the perspective of the viewer, but the crew has no such guarantee. For all they know the storm inside is just a lie, a cover up, an excuse. Its not like they don't know that Odysseus lies.

At this point the Bag almost becomes a symbol of the fracturing trust between Odysseus and Eurylochus. Its a plan and a decision that Eurylochus was excluded from, and then Odysseus literally keeps himself awake for nine days guarding it. From an outside perspective that's super concerning. Its proof that Odysseus doesn't trust his crew, that he doesn't trust Eurylochus. If he did then he would have done the reasonable thing and traded off guarding the bag with Eurylochus so he could get some sleep.

I personally don't think Eurylochus opened the bag with treasure as his motivation. I think he was driven by his growing distrust just as Odysseus was. He couldn’t take Odysseus's explanation on faith anymore and needed to know what exactly it was that was driving Odysseus to such extremes to protect.

Luck Runs Out and Keep Your Friends Close were the death knell for trust between Odysseus and Eurylochus. Scylla and Mutiny is the conclusion of that shattered trust.

"If you want all the power you must carry all the blame!"

Eurylochus would have shared that burden with Odysseus. Would have shared the weight of the guilt and the lost lives of their friends. But Odysseus wouldn't let him.

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rainbow-femme · 3 years ago

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Here are some characters that deserve their own backstory movies

The disney villians especially Ursula and Ms Trunchbull from Matilda

Personally I do and I don’t

On the one hand I love stories of negative character development where we see someone get corrupted, but Disney clearly can’t do those. They love making these backstory movies but their brand doesn’t allow for downer endings or bad people as main characters. Everyone has to grow and learn a positive lesson, so Cruella doesn’t explain how she got to be someone who would steal and kill 101 puppies for a single coat and Solo not only doesn’t show Han becoming a selfish criminal out for himself but in fact has him aiding a rebellion, a lesson he then has to relearn 20 years later

But Ursula is very interesting and I would love to have an exploration of her backstory because she as a character is more interesting than people realize

To start, in the Little Mermaid we are shown two magical beings, the king of the ocean Triton and Ursula, who is just some lady. And king Tritons power is, seemingly, in his weapon rather than himself because transferral of it transfers that power, while Ursula is able to do hers on her own. Her power seems to be smaller and more specialized, where Triton’s seems to be larger but more generalized. Ursula can master transfiguration and bind your fate to a task while Triton can shoot destructive beams and control the sea

But despite being seemingly the second most powerful being in the ocean, and the only one of her species that we see (sequel not withstanding) Sebastian’s reaction to Ariel going to meet her is similar to finding out someone you know went to ask a local drug dealer for a favor. Clearly not good, but not bad enough that he went to a third party to stop it, even when that third party is Ariel’s father and the only being more powerful than Ursula

Which is weird, considering Ursula’s house is full of merpeople who failed to fulfill their contracts and were turned into worm people. How is it that Ursula is known as A. Generally dangerous, and B. A maker of deals who can get you what you want, but no one has connected her to the disappearances of hundreds of people? And why is no one worried that hundreds of people have gone missing? Has she been doing this for so long that the disappearances aren’t that noticeable, like over centuries?

And then most fascinating of all is her motivation. She takes advantage of Ariel being the daughter of Triton to use to her advantage, but this clearly wasn’t part of her original plan. We’re given no reason to think she’s been doing all of this to lead to this moment, her business wasn’t put together with the hope of one day luring in one of Triton’s daughters. So why does she do it? The clients don’t pay her, she gets seemingly no benefit except that anyone who fails to uphold the contract becomes a worm person in her house. She went to the trouble of learning oceanic contract magic just to get sad worm people in her house.

And then! When Ariel makes the deal, even then it doesn’t seem to be her endgame to get Tritons weapon until he gets involved. She foiled Ariel, stole her voice, and… Tried to marry land royalty? To what end? What was her goal in marrying Eric? She didn’t need to marry him to keep Ariel from fulfilling the contract, clearly it wasn’t that hard to keep them from kissing for 3 days so she could have just kept sabotaging them. Why go the extra step of brainwashing him, transforming herself, and marrying him? And if this was something she wanted, why not do it before? She’s always had the transformative and brainwashing powers. And it’s only after this plot is ruined that she goes after Triton and taking his power. Is there something she can’t do on her own that she needed the weapon for?

So what kind of backstory would get us close to explaining this?

Well, Triton in Greek mythology is the son of Poseidon. Greek mythology also gives us Scylla, a beautiful naiad who was claimed by poseidon but cursed to be turned into a monster by the wife of poseidon (there are a couple versions but this one fits best with the narrative)

Making Triton the legitimate son of Poseidon, and for the sake of our story, making Ursula the bastard daughter of Poseidon and the woman who was cursed for catching his eye. This would explain them both having magical powers but one having a more monstrous form while the other has the traditional merperson form

So we have a woman who does not fit into society by being both from a cursed bloodline and by her outward appearance, but who still has magical powers. So much power that she can give anyone what their heart desires, but even this isn’t enough to make her be accepted by society.

So what better way to get back at the society that rejected her and villainized her mother than to use their own laws against them, offering them what they most desire while making clear that the consequence of not fulfilling the bargain is the same fate as that of her mother? It’s a classic Greek bargain, giving someone everything they need to accomplish a goal but severely punishing them for wasting the gift you give them if they still fail.

But there have to be some successes, Triton seems aware of her and what she’s doing but hasn’t stopped her. And not in a “I can’t stop her because of a technicality” thing but because he genuinely doesn’t seem interested. So I imagine there must be a 33-50% success rate at least of these contracts to make it both enticing for hundreds of people to go her and for Triton to not see her as an evil kidnapper but someone doing stuff she probably shouldn’t but only with those who consent to her deals. So there have to be people who swear by going to Ursula to change your life and achieve your greatest desire, making her more akin to a neutral being or maybe a trickster rather than evil

So she’s out here acting as your typical mythological deal maker. But why does she want to marry Eric, and why does she wait for Ariel?

Well, given her likely functional immortality she’s been around a while. And based on the way she acts, she enjoys luxury but has so far been unable to attain much of it. Almost like she is the one person her powers cannot work on, a cruel twist of fate.

But then here comes her half niece looking to make a deal, a deal that would involve, if completed, a granddaughter of Poseidon marrying human royalty.

This could be her out. She knows contract law, she’s spent untold years learning the subtle art of loopholes. Something many people have pointed out in the film is that for a brief second, smaller print appears on the contract in a non decipherable language. This could be her slipping in the loophole that the contract grants this gift to any female descendant of Poseidon, meaning she can also claim the use of human legs. And if she doesn’t have a voice it’s fine because the contract gave her Ariel’s to use instead.

So that’s why she waits until Ariel to become human, and why she tries to marry Eric. It’s the loophole that would get her out of the society that rejects her and not only into one that would accept her but that would put her in the position she likely always felt she deserved: Royalty

But when it all goes ass up she makes a last ditch effort to take Triton’s position and power, either in the hope the power will be enough to free her or to force the people who have always rejected her to accept her as their new ruler

#Ursula #the little mermaid #disney movies #movie thoughts

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pjo12fan · 4 years ago

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Headcanon #3

Annabeth discovers she loves baking

The bad news: she’s really bad at it.

But nobody dares tell her.

The thing is everyone’s so used to Annabeth being really good at everything:

She trashes Percy, Leo and Jason at video games.

She’s been giving Piper a run for her money on their karaoke nights, and now there’s debate on who the best singer is.

Hazel’s starting to regret giving Annabeth horseback riding lessons, cause she’s getting scarily good.

And she’s even taught herself Chinese, to the point where she’s speaking it better than Frank.

So, when she starts getting into baking, all her friends are thinking, looks like here’s another thing Annabeth is a badass at. On the plus side, there’ll be free cookies right?

Wrong.

There are free cookies. But as it turns out, Annabeth is really awful at baking.

It started when Percy’s parents were away for the weekend on Sally’s book tour, they let Annabeth stay over so Percy wasn’t alone.

And Annabeth just went into a frenzy. Making batch after batch of burnt cookies, feeding them all to Percy.

Except he didn’t dare tell her how bad they were, he just kept swallowing as many as he could. And she would just keep making more.

The thing is Annabeth was completely oblivious, she just loved watching Percy eat for some reason. And she would smile and ask him, “Do you like it?”

And poor Percy’s just forcing mouthful after mouthful down his throat and nodding enthusiastically. He figured she’d get better over time.

Well, the seven demigods had a reunion at Percy’s place a couple months later.

Annabeth’s decided to bake a cake and some cookies as well. But by that point, each of them had already experienced Annabeth’s baking before, so they knew it wasn’t going to end well

Frank and Hazel are determined to avoid the inevitable, and they actually bring a cake they bought, to the apartment.

But when Annabeth finds out, she just says “I reckon we could finish two cakes, besides mine’s almost done!”

Upon hearing that Leo just closes his eyes and starts to groan, but Piper slaps the back of his head and tells him to not be rude.

She hates it as well though. But she figures somebody’s gonna let it slip sooner or later.

Anyway as the night goes on, Annabeth just brings out trays and trays of cookies.

And Jason can’t help but ask why she made so many. “I swear it’s not humanly possible for someone to eat this many cookies.”

He’s lying though. It is possible. If the cookies were good. It just wasn’t possible for someone to eat that many of Annabeth’s cookies.

She doesn’t know that. She just laughs cause she explains how Percy really loves them and how he can’t stop eating them. She was scared there wouldn’t be enough, so that’s why she made a ton of them just to be safe.

She goes back into the kitchen to get more. Everyone just stops chewing and gives Percy dirty looks. They’ve pretty much had enough at this point. It’s literally been months of burnt, horrible cookies, forced smiles and painful chewing.

And that’s how the evening goes, whenever Annabeth gets up to leave. Everyone is just begging for Percy to end it, once and for all.

Once the coast is clear, Piper and Frank spit out mouthfuls of cookie into the bin. Hazel and Leo just stare at the son of Poseidon and shake their heads.

“How could you man?” Jason’s just pleading with his bro, “Why haven’t you told her? Whyyy?”

And Percy’s basically given up at this point. He just can’t do that to her, he can’t tell her it’s bad.

It’s gone on too long, and they’re all in too deep he explains, they’re just gonna have to wait until Annabeth gets better.

And Piper’s mouth just hangs open. She’s in complete, utter disbelief. “Percy, honey, are you insane?!!?!”

“It’s been months man,” Leo’s chiming in now too. “She’s getting worse!”

“I’m pretty sure the last one I ate had a blonde curl in it.” Frank’s almost in tears and he’s begging on his knees at this point. “Please Percy, you have to tell her.”

“And tell her tonight Percy,�� Hazel orders. “After we’re gone.”

“Why me?” Percy complains. “Cant someone else tell her?”

They all facepalm when Percy says he can’t because he’s told her so many times he loves her cookies, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even hate them anymore at this point

“Why would you do that Percy? why?” Jason picks a couple cookies from the tray, checks to see if Annabeth is in view- she isn’t, and he tosses them in the bin.

Leo clicks his tongue. “It’s time to own up man.”

Percy looks like he wants to cry, he just shakes his head saying he can’t do it.

But by then, Piper just wants all the pain to end, and she’s blatantly pouring charmspeak into her words. Telling Percy, “Gotta tell her Perce, it’s better she finds out from you than someone else. And it’s better you be honest than have us keep lying about it.”

“Lying about what?”

Annabeth’s frowning, staring at each of them. They were clearly talking about her.

Everyone’s gone silent. Nobody dares meet her eyes. Even though she’s wearing an apron with a cartoon on it, and she’s got ridiculous rainbow mittens on, Annabeth is still so very scary when she’s mad.

“Lying about what?” She demands. “What’s wrong?”

Nobody replies. Frank quickly excused himself to the toilet. Jason and Piper suddenly found a real interest in the design of the coffee table. Hazel’s nervously playing with her hair, staring at the wall. Leo starts fidgeting with the springs in his pocket. And Percy’s just staring at the floor, he figured he could probably list hundreds of monsters he’d rather fight right now to avoid being here.

“Hello, anyone?” Annabeth’s practically got steam coming out her ears at this point. “I know you can all hear me!”

Piper looks up, makes eye contact with Percy, who’s silently pleading with her to not do this, but she turns away and looks at Annabeth. “You should ask your boyfriend.”

Annabeth cocks an eyebrow, staring at him expectantly. “Well?”

Percy’s mind has gone blank. He can’t think of anything to say. Other than the truth. Piper’s charmspeak is still echoing in his ears, and it’s taking literally all his strength not to do what she says.

He can’t take it anymore though. He opens his mouth and starts saying, “Well, we all kinda think-”

“We?” Leo’s shaking his head. “Don’t speak for me man.”

Jason feigns annoyance. “Yeah Perce, it’s what you think.”

Percy stares back at them. Are they being for real? But everyones face is just telling him, hey, you got us into this mess, now you gotta fix it.

So what can he do? He clears his throat, he puts on his bravest face. “Annabeth, I have a confessions to make.”

Annabeth has got her hands on her hips. “Mhmmm.”

“I think the-”

Ring!

He’s cut off by the doorbell. Someone’s knocking impatiently. And Percy is the most relieved man in the world at this point.

Frank goes to open it. And it’s Nico.

“Oh hey Nico,” He starts saying. “What’s up? Do you wanna come in?”

Nico pushes past him and walks straight into the living room. Everyone stares at him.

“What’s up man?” Jason asks.

Hazel goes for a hug but he signals for her to stop. Instead he turns to Annabeth.

“You gave me a box of cookies yesterday.” Nico says. “And I tried one.”

“Oh yeah!” Annabeth grins. “Did you like them?”

Nico stares at her, he can’t tell if she’s joking.

“No.” He says.

“Oh,” Annabeth pouts. “I didn’t know that, everyone’s been telling me they’re great.”

Then Nico narrows his eyes, as he looks at all of them - Jason, Piper, Leo, Frank, Hazel, and Percy, all sat on the sofas, collectively holding their breath.

“Cowards.”

He spits out the word, staring down each and every one of them, before disappearing into the shadows.

And that’s how it’s done folks.

This is so long, but I just couldn’t stop writing hahaha, Nico’s a badass though

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aknosde · 3 years ago

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Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

—————

Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #its been a while since i posted something for pjo #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #hoo #alea iacta est #Reyna!Swap au #chart writes #fic: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur #riordanverse #anyways I'm pretty happy with this and if you want some explanations or clarifications you can ask me or look at my final notes on ao3!#i already have another one in the works! it just needs to be beta read

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theepitomeofamess · 3 years ago

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hey y'all, i'm working on this project i'm really excited about and i wanted to share some of it.

it's basically just a retelling of Ares mythology (i know that this probably sounds a lot like knock off madeline miller, but just hear me out) focusing on the parts that don't paint him like an angry meathead -- the version of his myth where he's raised by Priapus and taught to dance long before fighting, how he is one of the few male gods to care for his children and respect women, the story of his daughter Alcippe (which, if you don't know it, trigger warning for sexual assault and murder if you look it up), and the idea that his anger stems from depression caused by being hated by his supposed father and ostracized by any god who wanted to stay on Zeus' good side (hello projecting :^D).

Anyway, i wanna share some ideas i have about Ares as a character (in no way trying to be disrespectful to the deity, my apologies if it comes off that way). I've got a long list of ideas under the cut, I'd love to get some feedback (@witch19, you know I'd love your opinion on all this)

so a big concept i want to work with is tattoos. from what i understand, tattoos were a sign of punishment in ancient greece, used to mark slaves and criminals so they could be identified or continually punished. there's a story (link here) of athenians tattooing athena's owl on ancient samians after a defeat, ares decided to take on the same punishment as the men he had helped in the battle. as he grows into himself and his confidence, the tattoo grows with him from athena's pygmy owl to an eagle owl, which became one of his sacred animals in some versions of his mythology. he started getting even more as he started viewing them as a sign of strength rather than punishment, and especially when he learned of emperors tattooing gladiators, who he often helped and identified with

the owl is his first tattoo, but his favorite is a honeycomb over his heart. there are a lot of bees on the comb, with aphrodite being the queen directly over his heart. there's a bee for each of his children, and a drone with a broken wing for Hephaestus (Aphrodite actually gets a matching queen bee on the back of her hand so when she puts her hand over his heart, the bee is still there)

maybe another tattoo is a peacock feather for his mother? maybe it's covering a Lichtenberg figure he got from one of zeus' fits of rage?? maybe idk???

speaking of scars, he gains a scar for every one that's gained by a soldier. it doesn't matter what side the soldier is on, it doesn't matter how minor the wound is, he bleeds with every soldier in every fight he's involved in, feels their pain. armor does nothing to stop it -- it never even gets scuffed.

because it never gets hit and therefore looks brand new, ares doesn't actually like wearing his armor. it gives the impression that he's never been in a fight. he'd rather just wear his tunic.

he's actually much more of a romantic person than a sexual one. he's not asexual (bisexual, actually), he's just a big softy and craves a softer, more genuine connection. that's why he doesn't take as many lovers, why he doesn't have casual sex, and why he takes his time romancing aphrodite. he really enjoys the soft, quiet intimacy.

the first time he met aphrodite, he asked her to dance. no one was dancing except servant girls/nymphs, and they were not on the same page at first. aphrodite thought "dancing" was an innuendo (like what zeus and poseidon have done before), and ares wasn't catching on to the fact that she thought he meant sex. poor boy just wanted to dance, and it took some talking in circles, but he did get his dance. aphrodite loved how fun and innocent it was.

dancing is an outlet for him. he loves it. he spent his whole childhood with priapus dancing, and still enjoys it to no end. this influences his build (where a lot of the gods -- zeus, poseidon, etc. -- are more bulky and lumbering, ares is very lean, limber, and light on his feet)

he keeps a garden. it was part of being raised by priapus in the mortal world -- they grew their own food, and it's a hobby that followed ares into adulthood. besides, growing his own food means that, while he doesn't get as many offerings, he still gets the good stuff. the garden has a beehive that aphrodite loves helping with. all of his children are spoiled with mortal food before they are ever old enough or well known enough to get an offering from the mortal world

he refuses the idea that zeus is his father. he believes the version of the story that he was conceived by hera alone through pure spite and rage -- this is the version that athena tells him, and he tends to believe athena before anyone else.

speaking of, he actually gets along with a lot of the gods. he and athena, though constantly pitted against each other, have a pretty good relationship and she is often a comfort for him. they will often sit together in no man's land after a battle, and she will often comfort him if it was a particularly bloody one. at the end of the day, in her mind, she's his big sister. she actually used to (against zeus' wishes) go visit ares at priapus' home and read him stories.

apollo actually really enjoys hanging out with him -- ares dances to apollo's music and apollo is the one that gives ares his tattoos, a form of art that apollo doesn't get to practice otherwise.

he sees hades a lot more than a lot of people, as he often helps thanatos in escorting killed battalions to the underworld, spending the entire time ensuring them that even if they did not achieve victory, they brought honor to their homes and families. hades doesn't have favorite nephews/neices, but given how ares has been ostracized in a way that hades can find familiar, he empathizes with him quite a bit.

he and hephaestus actually would have been very close if they were allowed to have a childhood together and didn't have mutual jealousy, and actually have some really sweet moments. ares trusts hephaestus wholly with the wellbeing of aphrodite and his children, knowing that he will take care of them in his stead if he needs to.

still working out the kinks on this idea, but the dryad Harmonia is born from the tree that grows from ares' tears for Alcippe. she offers to help him create an entire society of daughters for him, ones that live away from the threat of men. daughters that know well how to protect themselves from those who threaten and attack them. (like i said, i'm still working on this idea, i'm not even sure if the amazons will be included, but i like thinking about the different ways that this could be interpreted/used)

maybe in that same vein of harmonia and the tree, ares crafts eros' bow himself (maybe with some help from hephaestus and his experienced craftsmanship?) from a branch of harmonia's tree? maybe he strings it with his own heartstring, left dangling loose, irreparable after the heartbreak of Alcippe?

okay so clearly i have a lot of ideas regarding this project. any and all writers, mythology lovers, narrative flippers, please let me know of any further interest or ideas about this!

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mackeydoodledoo · 4 years ago

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Promises

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Cassia Beryl (Fem!Demigod), Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Cassia Beryl (Fem!Demigod) [Non-romantic]

Summary: For as long as you've been existing, you posess powers of a God. The Greek God of the ocean to be specific. Knowing Wanda since Ultron. You vowed to protect Wanda. Keeping her promise to Vision before the mind stone was ripped from him. When you rescue Wanda's kids from a witch named Agatha Harkness, using your godly abilities, she begins seeing something in you that she hasn't seen in a very, very long time.

Warning(s): WandaVision Finale Spoilers

A/N: hi, I recently finished Wandavision and let me tell you I'm bittersweet. Cassia Beryl is my MCU Character!

--------------------------------------

As you peek around the corner, you notice two kids being held by some kind of purple magic string. If i can sneak over there I can get those kids out of there. And that’s exactly what you do. You bob and weave through backyard after backyard until you're directly next to the witch.

"This is Chaos Magic Wanda, and that makes you the Scarlet-"

You throw your trident that pierces right through the magic, disappearing. Your trident lands into the ground on the other side of the road.

"She really is special," you smirk, slapping the witch with water and picking up the boys

"Cass?.." Wanda calls out to you

"Hey Wans," you smile, turning to her

"Mom!" One boy said, running to her as you let them down

Mom? She's.. a mom? You were given a mission, from the Rambeau; Monica, to try and save Wanda from spiraling down into a Villain. You were pretty close with Wanda, considering how the two of you both joined after the Battle of Sokovia.

"Get inside boys!" She replies, "Go in your rooms!"

You watch Wanda's boys head into their house, you hold your hand out, your glove glowing. Your trident comes back toward you. You catch it with no recoil on the impact.

"It can't be...." Agatha says, breathlessly, looking at you

"Can't be what?" You ask

"I know those colored eyes anywhere," she replies, "You're-you're Poseidon's kid!"

"And? Your point is?" You snarl back, "I want NOTHING to do with my father!"

Angered, you propel water from your feet and use it to kick Agatha into towns Square. With Wanda in tow. You watch Wanda throw one of her Psonic power however, you notice how Agatha absorbs it rather than falling back.

"Wans?..." you call, noticing her black tipped fingers

"I absorb your magic," Agatha speaks, "It's kinda my thing."

You walk over to Wanda and feel her hands and try to rub off the black. Even with your water powers nothing came off.

"I'll handle this," you say before your neck is wrapped with purple magic and you're dragged back

As you turned around you feel your hands wrapped, unable to hydro kenesis.

"Cass!" Wanda calls

You wanted to let out a snarl but feeling the magic wrapped around your neck getting tighter.

"You and I have a lot to catch up on darling," Agatha smirks before she's finally knocked back by Wanda

Trying to gather your bearings, vision fuzzy, you begin falling. Expecting to hit the solid ground below you, you were wrong. But feeling a familiar, soothing feeling. It felt like a water current but you knew it wasn't water, cuz when you opened your eyes Wanda was standing in front of you.

"Are you hurt?" Wanda asks, her accent coming in

"I almost got choked to death," you laugh, getting up to stand by her side, "But other than that I'm dandy."

You look over and Wanda's hands are continuing to turn black.

"You built this town to feed your need to have Vision back," Agatha states, "You make these people feel your pain."

You and Wanda look over and you see a lady's eyes turn gold and then back to normal.

"Dottie?" Wanda asks, as she's walking over to the two of you

"My name is Sarah actually," she says, "I have a daughter, Eight years old. I can't see her, she's locked in her room, if you could let me see her please."

As Agatha 'frees' everyone from Wanda's unintentional mind control, they all begin ranting on about how they have families outside of Westview and how they wanna leave. You pull Wanda into your arms tk try and calm her down as she was beginning to break. However, she loses it and begins putting red magic around the people, excluding yourself.

"No, I'm sorry," she cries, releasing her magic from them

Without thinking, she begins releasing her magic against the barrier.

"Everyone out, now!" Wanda commands

As they begin running, you begin hearing military trucks...

"Hayward... that lying rat!" You yell

However, before you could reach them, they reached you. Westview Vision and Wanda's kids join up with you two. However, almost dissipating... Wanda closes the Hex, regaining their form.

"Boys, take care of the military," Wanda demands, as Vision becomes occupied with white Vision, "Mommy will be right back."

You follow Wanda as you both head for Agatha, "Wans, Can you reach into her mind and force her to show her greatest fear?" You ask, looking at her, "I'll keep her distracted. Apparently she has history with my father... Time to get a crash course."

Wanda smiles as she disappears as you land right in front of Agatha, "You have history with my father? Let's talk then."

You put your trident against your back. No tricks. Or maybe one trick.

"Your father, he-"

Before she could even start, Wanda flicks her magic into Agatha's temples. Taking the both of us back to her... trial?

"No no no no," Agatha shutters, "You tricked me!"

"Well, you should have remembered I want nothing to do with my father," you said

But you were also interested. Why was Agatha keen on talking to you about the father you never want contact with? Oh well, save it for later. You look around the dead corpses and realize there was a body of water nearby. Kinda made sense. But also not. However, once Wanda resurrected Agatha's coven members, they push you out of the way and gather around Wanda and begin bringing her o to the stake instead of Agatha who was free. You tried to get up but purple magic held you down.

"No! Wanda!" You call out

"You can't win Wanda," Agatha smiles, "You lack knowledge."

As you looked up you noticed a crown forming along Wanda's head... Your eyes gape in awe, you knew Wanda was capable of so many things. Reaching her full potential as someone with magical abilities is one of them. She launched at Agatha, bringing you guys back to reality. Free from the magic shackle, you launch yourself with Wanda as you two slam Agatha into the ground. However, Wanda's arms completely black.

"Mom!" The boys call out

You turn however Wanda pushed you back toward them as she begins lifting herself up into the air. The boys help you up as you three watch. As Wanda continuously throws magic after magic, you realize she's getting weaker; her attacks becoming less forceful.

"Auntie will be right back," you tell the two boys as you, with sheer willpower, must up all that you have, create a water vortex, lifting yourself towards Wanda.

"Wanda! Hang in there!" You call out to her

You realize she's just standing there, however, begin noticing runes all around the Hex. You don't say anything or do anything else but just watch as Wanda's complexion go back to normal. But, she began to re-take her magic. You couldn't make out what they were saying but you knew Wanda was doing.... You just sit in your vortex and watch in awe as you realize Wanda is becoming The Scarlet Witch.You realize she also has a new costume, and you fell in love with Wanda all over again.

"Wow..." was the only thing that came out of your mouth as you let the vortex go and watch Wanda land as Agatha lies on the ground.

"So, are you just gonna lock me up somewhere?" She asks, angrily

"Not somewhere, here." Wanda replies, "you have the role I give you; the nosy neighbor."

"You can't do this," Agatha, "You don't know what you've unleashed. You're gonna need me," she retorts back

"Will I?" Wanda replies, "I know where to find you if I need you. You have your role here now."

"No no please!" Agatha pleas

Before Wanda could mind control her again, you gently touch Wanda's outstretched hand. Wanda stands down, a little angered. Agatha smiles as you kneelt down to her. But the smile faded when you didn't smile back.

"Your history with my father...," you start, "I'll come around once I'm ready to talk."

You stand and turn to Wanda, signifying she can control her again. Thus, she does.

"Hiya hon," she says cheerfully, "Quite the getup hot stuff."

Not sure if she's talking to you or Wanda. As your back was turned to her. You watch Wanda as she embraces her boys and Vision.

"You'll make things right Wanda, just not for us," Vision smiles, "Lets go home."

They all nod in agreement as Wanda begins releasing The Hex. As they pass by you, Vision stops.

"You," Vision calls, you end up looking at him, "Would you like to join us?"

You smile and nod as Wanda slings her arm around you as you follow them to their home.

"Thank you Cass," Wanda says

"Always Wans," you smile

As you watch Wanda and Vision tuck Billy and Tommy [you finally learned their names] into bed.

"Thanks for saving us today," Billy states, looking at uou

"Cassia Beryl," you smile, "I'm a close friend of your mom's."

They smile as Wanda and Vision sit at their bedside. You standing at the doorway.

"Your mother and I," Vision starts, "Are very proud of you.

"The both of us," Wanda says, her accent slipping in

You heard her accent clearly. You loved Wanda's accent. You look out the window and sigh, realizing Wanda is gonna be alone again.

"Cassia is it?" Vision asks

"Yeah," you reply

"May I have a word with you? Alone?" He asks, looking at Wanda to stay with the boys for now

"Yeah, sure," you say, going downstairs

Once the two of you reach the main floor, you turn to Vision.

"You, I don't know you at all but you seem to have a close connection with Wanda. Before I'm gone, I must know your connection with her." Vision asks

You sigh, "I can't put it in words. However, I can show you my history with Wanda."

A single tear drops down and you catch it with your finger. It then turns into regular water.

"I hope this works," you whisper as you flick your memory water at Vision

"You know I could have stopped him myself, disarmed him, killed him," you say, "But I didn't do anything. We all played our pieces, some aren't going to end as pretty as you hoped."

[...]

"Can you play me a song Cass?" Wanda requests

"Always." You smile, grabbing Wanda's guitar as she seats herself right next to you

[...]

"Cass, I didn't mean to-"

"Save it Wanda," you sigh, "Besides, you've looked happier without me."

[...]

"Cassia, can you keep a promise for me?" Vision asks, pulling you into a corridor

"Of course Vision," You reply

"I need you to look after Wanda for me," Vision blurts, "Should anything happen to me, Wanda is going to need someone. I don't want her being alone. You're the second most person she trusts."

[...]

"Vision, I don't know how I'm going to look after her without you," you choke out on a sob

"It'll be alright Cassia," he says calmly, "You'll be able to figure it out."

[...]

"VISION NO!" You scream, scrambling up to your feet and attempt to save Vision again from Thanos. But he bsck-hands you into a tree, knocking you out

[...]

As you regain consciousness you see Wanda beginning to become dust. As half-consciouss as you were, you scrambled up to your knees and launched yourself with whatever energy you have left to reach Wanda.

"Wanda NO!!!" You scream as a last effort

She dusts right as you try to cup her cheek with your hand, a couple of dust. You open your hand and begin banshee screaming.

You let out a sigh once Vision comes to.

"The last five years were horrible," you sigh, "Trying to get my mind off of Wanda in said years, didn't help. She'd often be in my dreams. Hoping I could revive you or get her back."

"So in other words," Vision starts, "I left a promise to you that would look after Wanda after I'd be gone?"

You nod, blushing a deep red as soon as you look over Vision's shoulder; Wanda standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"W-Wanda," you stutter, "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough." She smiles, but the smile faded as the Hex was getting even closer

You motion for Vision to Wanda in his final moments. You look on as Waves and Vision embrace.

"Before I go Wanda, I must know. What am I?" He asks

"You are Vision," she smiles sadly, "You are my sadness, my hope. But most importantly, you are my love."

He smiles as he kisses Wanda for the last time as the house begins going back to its original state. You felt tears run down your face as you watch Vision disappear.

"Goodbye Cassia," Vision says, "take care of Wanda for me. "

You ugly cry as you try to smile and nod at his request.

"So long darling," he finally says as he disappeared, the go far to its foundation

You regain yourself as you begin walking toward Wanda.

"You okay Wans?" You ask, hectic putting your hand on her shoulder

She sighs at your touch.

"Cass, make your own life worth while. I'm not worth it, " Wanda says

You meet her face, "Wans, your worth a million universes to me. Besides, I like adventure."

"Cass, you do know that once you go with me, you can't turn back right?" She asks

"I'm fully aware doll," you say, holding her hand, "Where you go, I go."

"You-you don't hate me? For leaving you?" She asks

You take her hand in yours and intertwine your fingers together, "I never did."

You place a gentle kiss on her forehead before you put on her hoodie as you begin leading her away from the foundation to leave Westview. However, you felt eyes on Wanda... Not the good kind either. However, you meet up with Monica.

"You don't hate me?" Wanda asks

"With your situation and your kind of power," Monica starts, "I'd bring back my mom."

"That makes two of us," you emphasize with Monica, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Wanda says,

"They'll never know what you've sacrificed for them," Monica states

"I don't think it'll change how they see me," Wanda adds, "Goodbye Monica."

You casually salute three fingers up to her and give her a smile. Wanda wraps her soothing red magic around you along with her arm slithering around your waist and you two turn to the edge of Westview.

"We're going to be okay Wans," You say

You weren't fully sure. But you were certainly going to give it your all to protect Wanda. For Vision. Real and Westview Vision.

Epilogue You emerge from the waters that was right in front of your shared cabin with Wanda. It was way off grid. That's whats gonna stay that way. You look up and see Wanda holding a towel out to you. You first wipe your face dry and then your hair.

"I have tea warming up just for you love," Wanda smiles as she brings you inside, her fingers gently running along your bare back, "Your favorite."

Sometime later, you knock on the doorframe to your bedroom and peek around the door. As much as you didn't want to disturb her, you wanted to check on her and you wanted to see her as her true self. She smiles when she sees you. She stops her studies and walks over to you.

"You doing okay?" You ask

"Yeah I'm alright Cass," she smiles, kissing your nose, "I'm beginning to think Vis let you come with us is that smiles they're gone, I still have someone to look at."

"I think he was right," you put your forehead onto Wanda's, "I never want to let you go away from me again."

#female reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wandavison spoilers #marvel #demigods #poseidon #scarlet witch x fem!reader

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 3 years ago

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(image description: eight sketchbook drawings of characters holding a variety of pride flags, all nude and posed in ways that match some old fine art pieces. The nudity has been censored with cute digital flower stickers. end description.)

Characters:

Dalmar, intersex man. Kouto, nonbinary. Chacha, agender. Parva, nonbinary. Xulic and Kidron, genderqueer. Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, genderqeer. Olli, demiguy. Sajak, genderqueer.

Genderqueer is kind of my default for "well, biologically and culturally, they already don't have binary sex or gender, so they kinda default to genderqueer." And I know maybe some people will be bothered by that, but it's just part of the worldbuilding I've written around all these non-human and frequently non-mammalian species of people.

The uncensored version is on my Patreon page. I do have one more drawing to add to this series, but since it's four child characters I will not need to worry about adding any censors and keeping the original image only on my patreon, as they will simply be wearing their pride flags as whole outfits.

The previous part of this, my binary trans characters, can be found over here.

detailed character descriptions and explanations of the pose references under the cut

Dalmar Ubora, a black intersex elf man with short black hair. He is holding his arms up as he holds the intersex flag, mimicking the pose of Virgin Mary from Titian's painting "The Assumption of the Virgin". The shading was washed out by the photo, but his belly is still clearly round from pregnancy. Dalmar is an interesting case, in that he was assigned male at birth based on his outward appearance, continues to identify as male throughout his life, but finds during puberty that what was believed to be an undeveloped penis was actually just a non functional body part. Instead, what actually developed to full functionality was his uterus. He still identifies as a straight cis man, and has come to terms with his body. He is married to a medically transitioned trans woman, and he could undergo operations to change his body if he wanted to. Instead, he has embraced his body and even birthed some children who were conceived via sperm donations. This is why I wanted a Mary pose for him, and this painting in particular is about Mary being welcomed into heaven as a blessed holy woman. Dalmar may not be a miraculous holy figure, but there is a reverence in the way he has come to love his body and chosen to bear children, including the surrogate birth of his brother's child.

Kouto Hayashi-Loryck, a slender nonbinary elf with black hair tied into a bun. They are holding the nonbinary flag and standing in the pose of a statue known as "Apollo Belvedere", which is so old no one knows the artist's name. One arm raised, one lowered, legs in the relaxed contrapposto pose. Kouto is an artist and an art model. Apollo is a god of the arts, and regarded as a beautiful and sexual figure. Kouto is bisexual and admittedly a very sexual and flirtatious person. They did settle into a happy marriage though (actually they are Dalmar's in-law and the sperm donor for the aforementioned surrogate birth.) Marriage has not stopped Kouto's flirtations, merely limited their targets to a singular person. It felt right to give him this pose, from a pretty well known portrayal of Apollo. Beauty, art, and sex, all defining traits of Apollo and Kouto alike, all present in a pose where the figure seems to be reaching for something above them.

Chacha Faraji, an agender black elf with short hair. They are facing away from the viewer, seated on a stool that is covered by the draped agender flag. No physical traits that could betray their agab are visible. Chacha is sitting in the pose of Reubens' painting "Venus at the Mirror". The arm closest to the viewer ends at the elbow, while they hold a mirror in front of their face with their one whole arm. Their face is seen reflected, smiling, little wrinkles visible by their eyes. I chose this painting in part because it did allow me to obscure Chacha's agab. They were my first nonbinary character, and I never really settled on an agab. But also, I enjoy putting characters who have unconventional bodies into poses associated with Venus or Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. Chacha is missing half an arm, they are getting older and it shows in the wrinkles on their face. Chacha is also Aromantic and Asexual, the full queer triple A battery. The mirror pose has become an independence of beauty. "Look but don't touch." Chacha is beautiful, and they do not need to be beautiful for anyone but themself.

Parva Turbatus, a white nonbinary elf with shoulder length curly hair that has been shaved down on the far side of their head. They are holding the nonbinary flag, standing in the slightly closed off pose found in Paul Gariot's painting "Pandora's Box". One hand on their chest, one hand held out to hold the flag. They have top surgery scars on their chest and a c-section scar on their navel, though all of these have unfortunately been hidden by the flower censors. I chose a pandora pose for Parva because they have one of the most intense tragic backstories of any of my characters. Like Pandora opening the box, they have suffered through many things but came out the other side with Hope, and healing.

Xulic Vos and Kidron Engedi, a drow and a lizard person. They are sharing the genderqueer flag. Xulic has long ears and white hair in a braid, with a white monkey-like tail barely visible behind their legs. Kidron looks like a leopard gecko, and their tail is acting as a visual block in fron of Xulic's groin. They are standing together in the central pose of Raphael's "School of Athens" fresco. Xulic is pointing one hand up to the sky, while Kidron holds one hand palm down towards the earth. Xulic's chest is visibly flat, however I have rewritten the drow as a eusocial people, who's biology has made most of the common population infertile and visibly near identical above the waist. Xulic's agab is unknown to anyone but them, and perhaps their reptilian lover Kidron. Both drow and lizard folk have biology and cultures that do not really support a gender binary, so genderqueer suits them both quite well. I chose the School of Athens pose because these characters are scientists in fields that overlap, and they often get into deep discussions on the matter. Xulic is a paleontologist while Kidron is a geologist, and they have another friend (my protagonist) who studies archaeology.

Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, an elderly goblin with sagging skin and axolotl-like frills on the sides of her head. She grins as she holds the gender queer flag, partly draped over the tall stool she is seated on. Her pose matches that of John Collier's "Priestess of Delphi" painting, which depicts a woman hunched over herself on a stool. Old Obeli Moruga, whose title best translates to "grandmother" is a significant figure in her community, both because of her more practical role as a leader and wise woman, but also because she has gained immortality and become an incarnation of Life Itself, after she was given the offer of such power when she nearly died in the goblin revolution. There are many figures that would suit her. Poses from statues of goddesses, like Athena or Gaia. Perhaps turning away from the theme of greek and roman figures I ended up with for my nonbinary group (dalmar is his own thing) and using the famous painting of Liberty on a battlefield. But now in her old age, all those poses of figures in more active poses, tall and imposing, simply didn't feel right. A wise old woman, hunched on a stool in a pose associated with the idea of an oracle, a priestess, a prophetess, felt much more fitting. (goblin culture does have specific pronouns for leadership, and in the common speech they have decided this translates best to the feminine "she/her")

Olli Moruga, also a goblin with axolotl-like frills, standing with the demiguy flag in his hands. He is in the pose of Michaelangelo's statue of Bacchus, god of wine, merriment, and madness. One hand up as if to salute with a cup, body leaning and perhaps a little unstable. Olli is a gay demiguy, stepping away from the naturally ungendered state of his people to embrace masculinity instead. He is extroverted, loves a good party, and has definitely been a little over his depth with alcohol on many occasions. He knows this is a problem. He used to act rebellious because of it, trying to be cool and aloof, but he has since admitted the truth to himself and now openly seeks help. His trans lover, Zaire (seen in a previous post) has become a great support to him. Even though it may seem odd to use the pose of a god of wine for a character that is trying to overcome an alcohol issue, I still feel like the vibe of Bacchus or Dionysus fits Olli well. He is not only a god of wine, but also of pleasure in general, a concept Olli embraces. Wild joy, perhaps to the point of becoming a little feral, abandoning tradition for personal fulfillment. It is unusual for goblins to embrace a binary gender, even partially. Gendered pronouns do not exist in their tongue, only being used in cases where common speech needs to be used to refer to certain significant figures, such as a leader. It is also unusual for a goblin to take a lover outside their species, since most goblins live in fairly isolated places and all mate together seasonally, depositing their eggs in a communal nursery pool. Olli stands out on purpose.

Lastly, Sajak, an amphibious person with some fish-like features such as their finned ears and a barely visible dorsal fin. They are holding the genderqueer flag as they stand in a commanding pose, one foot on a rock, one arm held out as if pointing to something below them. This pose is taken from the central Poseidon statue in the fountain of Trevi. Their head, arms, and torso are covered in dark tattoos in abstract designs, and they also have a few natural dark stripes along their arms and legs. The obvious connection between Sajak and this statue of Poseidon is that Sajak is a fish person and Poseidon is an ocean god. If I could have thought of a more medical figure, I may have made a different choice in the art reference. Sajak is primarily a doctor, a healer. They are fairly well known and they were an important figure on their home island, though they did leave eventually. Even so, there is a certain vibe to Sajak that suits the image of a powerful and unpredictable oceanic god. They are steady, intelligent, and careful, but they can become fierce when their loved ones are under threat, and the intense focus they show in their work as a doctor can be intimidating to see. There is a feeling of hidden power within Sajak, just as there is in the ocean when it seems calm. Fish folk, whether bipedal and amphibious or fully aquatic, also fit under my category of "non-mammalian people who are just kind of genderqueer by default due to their biology not fitting into a binary".

#figure art #figure drawing #nonbinary #intersex #genderqueer #queer ocs #winks ocs #image description #accessible art #my designs #drow #lizard folk #elves #goblins #merfolk

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littlesparklight · 4 years ago

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No actual thoughts about it, really, just think it’s interesting how, compared to Ouranos and Kronos, Zeus does share his power. Yes, he’s still the ultimate authority and power in a general sense, but he does not rule all realms by himself, which both previous kings did.

Zeus has agreed to share that with his brothers (which he undoubtedly wouldn’t need to do), and they have (near?) unlimited control of their own domains, since, for example, Zeus stops pursuing Asteria when she jumps into the ocean (Poseidon’s domain, though then in some versions she has to avoid Poseidon and only while doing that turns into what becomes Delos).

Zeus’ position as a high-king of sorts come with at least some sort of tacit agreement by everyone (see the Theogony, where they all agree to make Zeus the king). Something which dovetails rather neatly on how he has to (re)assert his power at different points in the Iliad, even if it’s entirely correct that he is the strongest (as him having to face Typhon alone because he’s the only one who can fight him would suggest).

It lands to Zeus to uphold the sovereignty of both his own and his and his brothers’ rule and the rules of the cosmos (both Zeus acting alone against Asklepios’ upturning cosmic order and Hades going to complain to complain to him about the same), as the ultimate authority, but Hades and Poseidon reserves right to power and authority within their own domains.

Presumably he wouldn’t have had to share, since the previous kings didn’t. Ouranos didn’t have either younger or older brothers to share with, but Kronos did, and he was the youngest to boot*. Zeus when he takes/is given the kingship, then also shares it (if not all of it), with his brothers, which would potentially weaken his position as all-powerful autocratic ruler, but theoretically offer him greater support from his co-rulers. Poseidon is salty at this state of affairs, clinging very tightly to how they have/should have the same authority while both the narrative, Zeus himself, and others, have both proclaimed and had him be proclaimed as the highest power. Poseidon would undoubtedly have been even more displeased if Zeus had kept all the realms under the aegis of the lone kingship, like the previous kings did. Hades is clearly more comfortable with this split than Poseidon is.

Was there a point here? Not sure, I just wanted to talk about how interesting I think the tri-partite rule is, even if Zeus remains the highest authority in the end.

*I think it’s neat how Zeus is both the youngest and the oldest, which, if you give a possibility to a previous system of ultimogeniture, combines both the “old” and the “new” system of succession in one individual.

#greek mythology #zeus #poseidon #hades #greek myth thoughts

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part 6

1800 words, part six of a XX part fanfiction (it ain’t over til it’s over, babes)

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

"What is it they want an audience for?!" Dynamene asked, hurrying to keep up with Poseidon's long strides. "They didn't say anything earlier..."

"I have no idea. But if they didn't include you, then it must not concern you," he replied shortly, gaze fixed ahead. What else could it be about besides you?

Dynamene's expression remained troubled. "Maybe they forgot to tell me... Maybe they expect me to be there."

"On the contrary, I was asked by one of your sisters to make sure that you were in your room before the meeting begins. I plan to do so personally." His stare shifted back down to her eyes.

Dynamene's gaze flitted across his face, trying to decipher what he knew and refused to share with her. Then she processed the last few words. "You don't have to see me to my room, really. I promise I won't leave it until you've finished with your meeting."

"I would like to believe you, but you've shown in the past a predisposition to eavesdropping."

Dynamene blushed but couldn't keep from giving an embarrassed grin. "Ah, yes, I suppose you're right. But I wouldn't dare cross you again, my lord." Her expression as she looked up at him was almost mischievous.

"I don't plan to find out," he said flatly, and she turned her gaze to the floor with pursed lips. She remained quiet the rest of the journey.

In far too little time, they had reached the door to her room. Dynamene reluctantly opened it and stepped half inside before turning back to peer at him with forlorn eyes. "I'm sorry I broke your trust, my lord. I know there may be nothing I can do to restore it, but... I want to apologize again, either way."

He was quiet for a moment. She thought she heard him sigh, a quiet exhale, before he spoke one more time. "Perhaps, given enough time, you will."

Dynamene stared into the distance, an unexplainable urge to voice the question that had been weighing on her mind for over a week overtaking her. "Lord Poseidon?" she asked, her voice cracking. She dared not show him her face now, but there was something she needed an answer to. She had to ask now, while she had the courage to speak.

"Yes?"

"I..." She faltered at the last minute. "I hope the audience with my sisters goes well." She stared up at the ceiling, hating herself for faltering. Her real question would just continue to weigh on her that much longer. Will... will you really take as consort the maiden Hera plans to present you with?

Poseidon stared at the cracked door and the slender inch of material he could see of her robes. He looked away towards the window on the far end of the hall. The sky was turning golden as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. He was no fool. Something else was troubling her, but what, she clearly dared not to say.

"I will hear whatever they have to say with an open mind," he settled on for an answer.

"Thank you," Dynamene whispered, twisting the bracelet 'round her wrist. "I... We all appreciate it." The mother-of-pearl beads glowed beautifully in the light of the sunset. She shyly peered around the door one last time. "Thank you, my lord. Goodnight."

Poseidon stood outside her room for a moment more, as if collecting himself. This all was becoming a hassle; wasn't it?

And yet, it didn't bother him as much as it had in the start.

He turned on his heel and continued towards the great hall. The other Nereids were surely waiting for his entrance now, and the sooner he arrived, the sooner it would be over.

The forty-nine other Nereids parted silently as Poseidon made his way between them to his throne. The sunset threw soft shapes of orange light across the vast room. The solemnity in each Nereid's face, no small feat to begin with, was put into greater relief by the shadows in the dimming light. Their eyes followed the god as he sat upon the chair, settling in and resting his cheek upon his hand in his usual manner.

"You have all called to request an audience with me, which I see fit to grant," he began lowly. "All of you except for Dynamene, who you requested be left out of this meeting."

The Nereids said nothing but looked to the eldest sister standing at the head of the group: Ianeira.

"As such, I have made sure that Dynamene is in her quarters." His eyes drifted from each face to the next. "My time is precious little; make your statement."

Ianeira stepped forward, her back straight and gaze direct. "Lord Poseidon, I won't make any pretenses about why we have asked for you to hear us out this evening. Something has recently come to the attention of all of us, including, I suspect, you, that we feel requires action."

Poseidon's gaze snapped to her face. He said nothing.

"My lord, Dynamene has recently come of age. She is a young woman now in body, but in mind and soul, she is still a child. She allows her feelings to run away from her; she has yet to learn to rein them in when it is appropriate. I'm afraid this may cause problems for all of us in the future." Ianeira bowed her head solemnly. Her careful wording brought her point across to Poseidon without being overly direct.

His suspicions had been right. He tilted his head slightly, gaze shifting from Ianeira to someplace in the distance. "You come here to turn on your own sister?"

"We come here to protect our sister," Ianeira answered, her words almost sharp. "We come here to act on her behalf as her older siblings. And, in particular, we have come to make a request." She lowered her face to the floor once more. What would a monster like you know, after all, of love for one's family? How dare you accuse me of betrayal when your hands are full of your brother's blood. Dynamene will not be your next victim, even if I have to get gutted like Adamas to prevent it.

Poseidon remained silent. He didn't move at all, as if carved from the same stone as his throne.

In the crowd, Eione's gaze sought Thoe's. She subtly rose her arm behind her back, showing her crossed fingers.

"We request permission to bring Dynamene home for an extended visit with our parents, along with a dozen of us older sisters. It has been a while since we have seen our family, and I'm sure the change of environment will do her good."

Poseidon did not look at her. The intent behind their request was clear now. They meant to remove Dynamene from the palace in an effort to get her away from him. They were trying to keep her from falling in love with him.

And they were attempting to discourage him from taking an interest in her.

How presumptuous of them. How futile of them, to think that they had the power to keep him from what he desired. They had no right to make such demands. Where had this sudden blind courage come from? His hands tightened minutely, undetectably, on the arms of the throne. Dynamene's boldness made much more sense now.

For several seconds there was no sound in the great hall. Every sister's gaze was focused sharply on the god, their expressions ranging from concerned to annoyed. The Nereids were not happy with the possibility of their beloved youngest sister falling for the callous Poseidon. Admittedly, their worries were not unfounded. If Dynamene was taken as consort by Poseidon, she would no longer be under the protection of her family or societal customs; she would be considered Poseidon's property, and her fate would be left at the mercy of his wrath. The Nereids did not trust him to leave Dynamene unharmed. Memories of his past violence remained suspended in the air around them, a vivid warning to the fate of their sister.

What good would it do to deny their request, in the end? He had no interest in invoking the ire of his servants and their family; too troublesome for such an insignificant conflict. Surely, if he refused to let Dynamene leave the palace, word would get around. People would assume he did have an interest in the nymph if he tried to keep her here now. Well, if the Nereids so wished to keep their sister safe from his toxic influence, so be it. What was it to him?

"Your request is granted," he answered. "You may take leave of the palace for a month. I won't have need of all fifty of you during this time, anyways. I have important duties to take care of elsewhere." I won't even know you're gone.

"Thank you, my lord," Ianeira replied gratefully. "We'll begin preparations tonight, and leave tomorrow afternoon." All the Nereids dropped to a silent bow, then took their leave.

Poseidon remained on his throne. A feeling he was loathe to claim was seething in his chest. He knew the Nereids had always regarded him with caution, which he welcomed. It kept them at a reasonable distance and discouraged them from annoying him. But seemingly overnight it had culminated in this; them spiriting away one of their own because she had warmed up to him.

He got to his feet and strode briskly towards his quarters. That things had come to a head like this was ridiculous. He should have put a stop to this the moment Dynamene had looked at him with stars in her eyes. But how could he have known things would develop this way? It wasn't his fault that the nymph had taken a liking to him. The sound of her rapid heartbeat had finally become ambient noise to his ears; now, when she returned to the palace, he'd have to get used to it all over again. When she returned, he would have to get used to her overly bright smiles and bold attempts at making conversation once more. He'd have to talk to her again about the ocean, and what he did there. He'd have to show her what he saw in the deep sea, her delicate hand in his, her expression shifting rapidly as she took in the visions in her mind's eye. He'd have to hear her unfounded worries about his safety, even with all his strength and power.

No, he didn't have to do any of that. So why was he considering it a foregone conclusion already?

The doors to his suite closed behind him far rougher than necessary, and dust blew free from the stone walls. He threw his trident rather forcefully onto its wall rack before stepping onto the balcony. The waves of the ocean were growing unusually choppy for this time of day.

It would be a month until he heard that heartbeat again.

---

Author’s Notes: Aughhhh now we’re getting closer to the climax, finally, I’ve been waiting for it.

This has now become the second longest fanfic I’ve ever written. By the time it ends, it’ll probably be the longest.

Careful throwing your trident, Poseidon; wouldn’t want you acCIDENTALLY STABBING SOMEONE NOW WOULD WE?!

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x oc #fanfiction #shuumatsu no valkyrie

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hamsterboos · 4 years ago

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I think my dad is Santa Claus

🎄Day 6 of 12 Days of PJO Christmas🎄

At first, when the screaming started when Annabeth was sitting in the Athena cabin doing some reading, she didn’t know what was happening. Her first instinct was to think that a monster had somehow broken through the barrier and was attacking the camp.

However, when she ran out of the cabin holding her sword, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight.

It wasn’t a monster attacking camp.

It was Poseidon dressed as Santa.

PSA: These drabbles are canon-compliant till HoO and just acknowledge the existence of Estelle. Also technology use is a thing.

Read on AO3

~~~~~

At first, when the screaming started while Annabeth was sitting in the Athena cabin doing some reading, she didn’t know what was happening. She was alone in her cabin, and her first instinct was to think that a monster had somehow broken through the barrier and was attacking the camp.

She dropped everything, grabbed her sword and ran out, expecting a battle to be going on, but when she ran out of the cabin, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight.

It wasn’t a monster attacking camp.

It was Poseidon dressed as Santa.

“What the—” she muttered, staring at Poseidon handing out wrapped gifts to the younger campers near the center of the camp. He was wearing the bright red Santa hat with the white beard, covering his own black one, with a red overcoat and white pants. In his hands was a big red bag filled to the brim, and he kept taking boxes out and handing them out to the cheering kids. Annabeth blinked in confusion, wondering if she had accidentally been given something by one of the Stolls — who had also come to visit that winter — that was causing her to hallucinate, but after a quick pinch to her arm, she deduced that she was, in fact, not hallucinating.

She immediately glanced around for Percy, knowing that he must have a hand in bringing Poseidon to camp, and sure enough, she found him talking to a group of young campers near the Big House with a look of apprehension on his face. As she quickly jogged over, she kept noticing that he was constantly stealing glances towards Poseidon — god, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the King of the Seas was wearing a goddamn Santa hat and beard — and looked just absolutely stressed. His messy hair was even more messy and looked almost like a bird’s nest; Annabeth could imagine that he had already run his hands through it several times.

Percy caught sight of her when she was within a few feet of him, and he broke away to grab her arm and drag them away from the horde of kids that were surrounding Poseidon. He took her towards the weapon shed, and once they stopped, he turned to look at her with wide eyes.

“Annabeth. Help.”

“What did you do?” she hissed, flinching when a bunch of kids ran past them, screaming about presents.

“I didn’t do anything!” She leveled him with such a flat look that he winced and retracted his statement.

“Okay, technically I did do something, but I didn’t mean to! It was an accident,” he pleaded, taking a hold of her hands.

“Percy, I have way too much work that I should be doing right now to be dealing with this,” she threatened.

“I may have, uh, accidentally wished for dad to bring a few presents down.”

She raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “Accidentally?”

“Okay, see, one of the younger Ares kids was complaining about how he realized Santa didn’t exist, and he was so upset. It made me think of Estelle, and so I said that it was okay that Santa didn’t exist because his parents would get him gifts, anyways. But then, he started crying about how Ares had never once given him a gift, so instead I ended up showing him that maybe if he asked for a gift during offering, Ares might agree. Then I ended up asking dad for a gift and maybe also have him bring down extras to give to a few to the younger campers as well. How was I supposed to know that he was going to become Santa?!” he cried, hands pulling at his hair. “What am I going to do, Annabeth?”

Annabeth was stunned at his word vomit, her brain slowly catching up as she understood exactly what happened. Biting her lip, she resisted the urge to start laughing and took a deep breath to calm herself. Percy must’ve misunderstood her actions because he started apologizing profusely, but that triggered her, and Annabeth lost her control and ended up laughing.

“Oh my god,” she laughed, a hand coming to rest on her stomach as she bent over slightly, “that’s so funny. Percy, I’m not mad. Just slightly annoyed, but gods. Just look at Poseidon! You have to admit, it’s kind of worth it to see him like that.”

“That’s my dad!” he moaned. His wish to want to jump off a cliff was written all over his face, and she grinned at the reminder of the Christmas dinner from last year when Athena and Poseidon showed up at their family dinner. She felt a tiny bit bad for the poor guy who was going to be reminded of the fact that his godly parent had dressed up as Santa for the next year (at least), but it was also just so utterly ridiculous that she couldn’t help but laugh more.

“Alright, Santa spawn, let’s go deal with the mess,” Annabeth laughed, grabbing Percy’s hand and leading him down to where the presents were being given out. It took them a while to get even through the campers that were crowding around Poseidon, and Annabeth wondered why it was taking them so long because it seemed like the campers who had already gotten a present were going back for more.

It wasn’t long before Annabeth and Percy pushed through to the center of the crowd to realize that the reason the crowd had grown exponentially was because Apollo and Mr. D had also joined in the gift giving. Thankfully, they hadn’t fully dressed up as Santa but they were wearing Santa hats.

Mr. D was helping Poseidon pass out gifts as Chiron tried to control the kids from jumping all over the gods (and stop Mr. D from giving out wine) while Apollo stood a few feet away singing All I want for Christmas is you by Mariah Carey.

Suddenly the crowd had become chaotic, and it wasn’t long till a lot of the older campers had finally come out to see what was happening and join in the crowd. Apollo’s rendition of Mariah Carey brought about a round of caroling where the campers began to join in, and all Annabeth could do was stand and stare until Percy dragged her out of the stampeding group of demi-gods.

“I can’t believe one dumb wish led to this,” Percy muttered, leaning against one of the cabin walls. “We can’t even get through to them to stop them. Hell, Chiron’s stuck too.”

Annabeth snorted. “I can’t believe Mr. D went along with it. We all knew it was a matter of time until Apollo showed up.”

All I want for Christmas is you was already stuck in her head.

“I think he just lives to bother me at this point.”

“You are his favorite Peter Johnson, ”she teased, poking him in the ribs repeatedly. “I guess he wants to give you the special treatment.”

Percy glared at her and swatted her arm away. “I was talking about dad.”

“You're his favorite son,” she replied.

“Annabeth.”

“Oh come on, Perce,” Annabeth laughed. “You have to admit that this is actually really nice of them. A lot of the kids aren’t going home for Christmas this year, and it’s hilarious.” She walked closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hey, at least my mom’s not glaring at you this year.”

“Don’t even say that,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist as well. “I feel like she’s going to magically jump out of the statue, and then it’s going to be a repeat of last year.”

“You would think that being nineteen and spending the majority of our lives in this world would make us immune to most of the stuff we’ve seen, but this is just…” Annabeth trailed off, not knowing how to explain the bizarre sight that involved a Christmas concert given by Apollo.

‘’Do they not have better things to do with their time than whatever the hell this is?”

“Clearly not.”

They stood in silence for a bit, just wrapped up in each other’s arms, as they watched the crowd slowly begin to start dispersing as Poseidon’s huge bag was running out of gifts. Chiron had also managed to drag Mr. D away, and Percy took that as a chance to walk up to his father.

Percy didn’t bother with formalities as he just spoke up, “Dad, seriously?”

Annabeth bit her lip as she tried not to laugh as she took a closer look at the Santa Claus costume.

“What? I granted your Christmas wish last year as well, despite the fact that you were joking, no?”

Percy gaped, and Annabeth lost it (again) and let out a loud laugh.

“Oh my god,” she breathed.

Percy groaned as he face-palmed.

“I hate myself. I’m never asking for anything ever again.”

~~~~

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5

#percabeth #percabeth fic #pjo fic #comedy #12 days of christmas #percy jackson #percy #annabeth #poseidon #apollo #poseidon is santa #12 days of pjo christmas

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loving-jack-kelly · 6 years ago

Text

Percy Jackson Died

Percy Jackson died.

He was old enough, he supposed, older than so many of his friends he’d watched die, but not really old. Old enough he was tired, and suddenly finding himself in the lobby he recognized from when he was twelve years old was disconcerting but not particularly surprising.

After all, he was a half-blood, and being a half-blood often got you killed in very nasty ways.

But still.

Percy Jackson died.

Charon remembered him.

“Drown in any bathtubs recently?” he asked dryly, but he waved Percy’s apologies for not having a coin to offer him. “You paid me for passage once and it clearly didn’t stick.”

So Percy Jackson died, and he crossed the River Styx on the ferry, and this time, when he arrived in the Underworld, Cerberus was completely visible.

Last time he came to the Underworld to see Hades, he’d entered the fast-moving line and stepped into the fields of Asphodel. This time, he waited in line to see the judges.

He’d saved the world more than once, they’d better give him something better than eternal stasis.

“Percy Jackson.” Daedalus greeted him warmly, arms full of blueprints and a full toolbelt wrapped around his waist. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Before Percy could respond, he was pushed to the front of the line and was standing in front of three men he had a feeling he should recognize but he didn’t. He didn’t have to speak at all, the three judges talked to each other while flipping through papers Percy couldn’t read, and without actually acknowledging him at all, the one in the middle hit a green button and Percy found himself on the inside of the gated community he’d only seen from the outside.

Percy Jackson died and was sent to Elysium. For a little while, it held his attention. Pretty much anything he wanted, he could have. Blue Coke, straight out of the bottle, better than the blue Coke at Camp Half-Blood. Pizza just like the pizza from his favorite place to go with his mom. Infinite activities, everything he’d ever wanted to do but hadn’t been able to when he was alive. Skydiving, cliff jumping, he got to pilot a plane.

He got to see old friends. Beckendorf and Selena Beauregard, who’d found each other and were happy again. Demigods who’d died in the second Titan war who wanted to hear from him how it had ended, to know what really happened. Heroes who died in the second giant war who wanted to know everything about Camp Jupiter and all of their friends who’d outlived them. Hunters who’d died in battles he hadn’t even known about while he was still alive.

But Percy Jackson was the son of Poseidon, lord of the sea. He didn’t like being contained in one place, and even if Elysium was a paradise for heroes, it wasn’t the same as being alive.

So Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson was sent to Elysium, and Percy Jackson chose to be reborn.

Zak Mason was born to a single mom.

He was an ordinary baby, almost. He was born with blue eyes, but they turned brown. He laughed and cried and pooped and spat up. He started preschool with a choppy haircut he gave to himself, and loved sitting on his mom’s lap to listen to Dr. Seuss books and watching anything fast-moving and colorful on TV.

When he was six, Zak’s basketball team won against all of the other first grade teams in their town, and a big picture of his gap-toothed smile holding the trophy he’d helped win with his first three-point shot held the place of honor on the fridge for almost a year.

Sometimes, Zak Mason had nightmares he didn’t understand. Of burning pain covering his entire body, of monsters and shifting Earth and bottomless pits, of faces he didn’t recognize twisted in pain or looking down at him as he fell, of flashing swords and screams and bursts of arrows whistling towards an enemy he couldn’t quite make out. He woke up and forgot the nightmares quickly, but they always left him almost wistful for something he couldn’t quite remember, even with how terrifying they were.

As Zak grew up, he noticed things nobody else seemed to. People who were just...different in ways nobody else seemed to understand. He saw a horse with wings, flying high above the clouds while he was on an airplane. A man he swore only had one eye that winked at him when he passed him on the bus. A woman with a forked tongue poking out of her mouth on a corner who’s smile made him shiver and walk faster.

And when he was eleven, almost twelve, a man with goat legs showed up and took him away from his mom. Just for the summer, but it was still the longest he’d been away from home.

“You’re a half-blood,” the man who called himself a satyr said. “You need to learn how to defend yourself and survive.”

His mom hugged him tearfully, but helped him pack his bags and sent him away, all the way to New York from their quiet little town in Wisconsin.

He expected it to be awkward. He didn’t know anything about what this satyr, whose name was Ash, was talking about. Gods and nymphs and a camp where he would learn to swordfight and find out who his dad was? None of it made any sense at all, and so Zak spent the trip to New York dreading whatever this camp was going to be.

He and Ash walked until he saw a tree, and Zak knew, just like that, that he was home. There were plenty of trees around, but this one was tall and proud and straight, and seeing it sent a jolt of some kind of unidentifiable pride down Zak’s spine.

And Zak and Ash passed the tree on top of its hill, and Zak felt like he was home. They looked over a valley full of cabins, a lake, strawberry fields, a big blue house with a wrap-around porch, a climbing wall that seemed to be on fire, and a thick forest.

Everything that didn’t make sense on the trip here clicked in Zak’s head. This was right, this was where he was supposed to be, that was the Big House, and the climbing wall was beatable if you knew the trick, and that was the armory even though it just looked like a shed.

“How do you know all that?” Ash asked, looking confused.

Zak paused.

“I don’t know,” he said.

But this was home.

He met Chiron, the centaur, and it felt like waking up from one of his nightmares. Especially when Chiron looked at him like he already knew everything about Zak and led him around the camp he already felt like he knew backward and forwards.

He was given a space to sleep in Cabin Eleven but told he’d likely be moving soon, as his dad would claim him.

Somehow, it was instinct to head for the lake during free time and climb into a canoe. He was terrible at it, but somehow it just felt right to be out on the lake with the naiads laughing at him.

What he was good at though, was still basketball. Basketball, and archery, and he picked up how to play guitar pretty quickly, too. He loved it at Camp Half-Blood, he told his mom in every letter. He missed her, sure, but they promised he’d be able to come home for the school year.

On his twelfth birthday, a flaming lyre burned above his head.

“Hail Zak Mason, son of Apollo,” Chiron announced in a booming voice, and Zak was welcomed into Cabin Seven with open arms.

So Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson made it to Elysium, and Percy Jackson chose to be reborn.

And Zak Mason was born, and Zak Mason was claimed.

Zak Mason still woke up with nightmares that faded from his mind before he blinked all the way awake. Of the same burning pain, but with a face that made him smiled floating through it. Of monsters he knew by name, and names he heard in stories of heroes in the second Titan war and the second giant war.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and designer of Olympus. Grover Underwood, the satyr who finally found the great god Pan. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, and Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, and Frank Zhang, son of Mars, and Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto, and Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite.

Names that whispered “home” to him the same way Thalia’s tree did and the lake did and the entire camp did, and he wasn’t sure why.

Chiron watched Zak Mason carefully, always with an expression of almost-but-not-quite recognition. When he insulted another camper or twisted his face in a particular scowl, Chiron shook his head and turned away.

There was one name that didn’t just whisper home, it screamed it.

Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, savior of humankind, one of the most powerful demigods of the modern age.

Zak didn’t know him, how could he? He’d died protecting a group of young demigods almost two years before Zak was born.

But somehow, Zak did.

He looked in the window of Cabin Three and saw the always empty bunk bed with a minotaur’s horn hanging above it and a ballpoint pen on the pillow and he knew the stories behind them without having to ask.

He’d dreamed them, he knew it, even if he’d forgotten the dreams. Rain and lightning and a woman who disappeared in a flash of golden light, and a sword that had killed a thousand threats to people Percy Jackson loved.

Zak stared at the pen sitting on the pillow and knew it belonged in his pocket. It didn’t surprise him when he woke up with it on his own pillow the next morning, and it didn’t surprise Chiron when it continued to do so every time Zak tried to return it to the little shrine to the fallen hero called Percy Jackson.

When he practiced with Riptide in the arena, it was like every sword fighting tactic he hadn’t been able to master with any other sword came naturally.

People whispered when they saw him fighting with Riptide. Whispered of Percy Jackson, who had fought the god of war and won when he was twelve years old. Who had defeated monsters Hercules himself couldn’t. Who’d wandered Tartarus with only Annabeth Chase beside him and come out alive. Who’d stopped Kronos and Gaea and was the reason camp was so busy and full of life. Who’d given his life to save people he cared for and who’d been willing to go to the ends of the Earth or further for his friends.

And those stories felt like home in the same way camp did, in the same way all those names did and in the same way his nightmares did.

Because Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson made it to Elysium, and Percy Jackson was reborn as Zak Mason, son of Apollo, who would surely prove to be as much of a hero as the first body his spirit had inhabited.

Because a spirit like that of Percy Jackson couldn’t be contained to Elysium, and couldn’t be contained to one life of heroism. Not when there was the choice to be another hero whose name would feel like home in his next life when the River Lethe tried again to wipe away memories that couldn’t be erased completely.

And a spirit like that of Percy Jackson could never be anything less than a Hero of Olympus, even if it started over in a new body with a new name.

#Asper Yells #txting #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #chiron #Greek Mythology #i wrote this #pjo #hoo #pjo fic #pjo fanfic

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buoyantsaturn · 4 years ago

Text

Bring On The Monsters (3/?)

chapter title: Nico is Given a Quest

word count: 3,617

read on ao3

After their claiming, Bianca and Nico were shunned by the rest of camp - ignored, for the most part, though some chose to give them dirty looks and whisper just loud enough behind their backs that they could hear the insults. The already over-crowded Hermes cabin was even worse when some campers decided that they would prefer to lay practically on top of each other just to avoid sitting too close to either child of Hades.

They had been told that as soon as they were claimed, they would be able to move out of the Hermes cabin and into a slightly less crowded space - hopefully one with two open beds so that they wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. Now, though, being children of one of the non-Olympian gods, they were still stuck in cabin eleven, and felt even more out of place than before. Their cabin mates refused to sleep near them, eat near them, train with them, or participate in any other camp activity with either Bianca or Nico. They couldn’t even talk to anyone but each other.

After about a week of this treatment, Bianca went to Chiron and begged for another place to sleep. Even if they still had to sit at the Hermes table during mealtimes and participate in activities with the rest of the campers, they could at least have peace while they slept. She pointed out the many empty cabins - Zeus and Poseidon were their uncles and Hera their aunt, couldn’t they sleep in one of those cabins instead? - but at the mention of their names, Chiron flinched and thunder rumbled across the sky. Nico thought he only agreed to stop Bianca from saying the names of the most powerful gods.

He gave them a bedroom in the Big House on the main floor, just down the hall from the entrance to the infirmary. They were invited to eat at the head table with Chiron and Mr. D during meals, and Chiron offered to make them a new activities schedule. They would still have to tag along with other cabins, but he would try to put them with different cabins each day so that they weren’t stuck with the same group of campers, all day every day.

Hearing that, Nico was suddenly struck with the hope that he could see Will again, but that hope was immediately squashed by the memory of Will’s fearful expression at Nico’s claiming. He probably thought Nico was a monster, and wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

Their first activity away from the Hermes cabin was Arts and Crafts with the Hephaestus cabin. It was the first time either child of Hades had stepped into the camp forge, and Bianca wouldn’t let Nico out of arm’s reach. There were too many campers there that didn’t like them, and too many dangerous tools and weapons that could be used against them.

They both shied away when the cabin’s counsellor approached them. He seemed to notice their apprehension, and kept his distance, showing his hands to let them know he was unarmed. “Bianca and Nico, right?” he asked. “I’m Beckendorf, head counsellor of the Hephaestus cabin. I know you’re both probably pretty wary of everybody right now, but you should know that to me, you two are just a couple of campers. I mean, you only just learned who your dad is, right? So it’s not like you had anything to do with what happened on Olympus during the solstice. You’re cool by me, so if any of my siblings give you any problems, just let me know, okay?”

Bianca nodded, though she didn’t loosen her grip on Nico’s arm. Nico wasn’t so quick to agree with everything he said. “What happened on the solstice?”

Beckendorf’s eyes widened, like he’d let slip some huge secret. “Uh, Chiron didn’t tell you? I thought he would’ve, considering, you know, what your dad did and everything…”

Nico’s head tilted in confusion. “What did he do?”

“You know, if Chiron didn’t tell you, then I probably shouldn’t either,” Beckendorf hurried to say, waving the topic off entirely. “So, anyway, a couple of powerful demigods like you two are gonna become, you’re going to need some equally powerful weapons. What do you say, want me to help you forge something?”

Any apprehension Nico felt faded away in favor of excitement. “Yeah!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place already.

Beckendorf grinned at him, then turned to Bianca. “What about you?”

She hesitated before responding, “Maybe another time. I’ll help with Nico’s for now.”

Beckendorf shrugged. “Suit yourself. Follow me over here, kiddo.”

Nico started spending whatever free time he had with Beckendorf to make a three-foot-long Celestial bronze sword that Bianca was certain would be impossible for Nico to wield. Beckendorf really must have been a master blacksmith, though, because Nico was easily able to lift the almost-finished weapon, despite the fact that it was nearly as long as he was tall.

Bianca was finally starting to let her guard down around the Hephaestus cabin, too. Most of the cabin had warmed up to the two children of Hades, and Beckendorf had proven himself trustworthy in her eyes by treating Nico so well. He’d almost won her over completely, but decided to teach Nico how to sharpen the blade of his new sword, which resulted in the near loss of one of Nico’s fingers. To anyone else, it would have clearly been an accident, with no one really to blame, but Bianca was still jumpy, and immediately started pointing fingers as she rushed Nico to the infirmary.

The Apollo cabin hadn’t won over her trust, either, but Chiron had assured her once before that they took their job as healers very seriously, and never showed favor to one cabin over another - they prioritized according to the severity of the injury, and nothing else.

Still, Bianca kept a close eye on Lee as he healed Nico’s hand, and stayed close as Will wrapped a bandage around the tiny remaining scratch across Nico’s palm.

“How’d you get hurt?” Will asked, looking like he was concentrating a little too hard on a simple bandage.

Nico huffed. “Are you just asking because you’re in doctor training?”

Will looked up at him and pouted in confusion. “No, I’m asking because you’re my friend.”

Nico’s head shot up in surprise. “We’re still friends?”

“I thought so. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Nico said, glancing across the room as his cheeks colored from embarrassment. “I just thought… When I got claimed, you looked…scared, like everybody else. I thought you were afraid of me.”

“No way, I think you’re even cooler now. And!” Will held up Nico’s now overly-bandaged hand. “Now you have you first battle scar! Super cool! So, how’d it happen?”

“Well, Beckendorf is helping me make a sword, and—“

“Woah, really? That’s so cool! Charlie is the coolest person ever! He helped me make a dagger when I first came to camp, and sometimes, even before I got claimed, he lets me try to heal him whenever he gets hurt! I mean, it was usually just, like, giving him ambrosia and bandaging his hands like I just did for you, but still!”

Nico’s head tilted. “You call him Charlie? Is that his name?”

“Oh!” Nico watched as Will’s cheeks grew pink, and his gaze dropped to the roll of bandages in his hands, his fingers picking at one fraying edge. “Um. Well, his name is Charles, but he told me that I could call him Charlie, but I think that’s probably supposed to be when it’s just me and him. Um. Don’t tell him I told you that, okay?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, okay. Can I see the dagger you made?”

Will grinned at him. “Only if I can see your sword!”

Nico had been having trouble sleeping in the Big House. He’d gotten used to falling asleep to the sounds of snoring in the Hermes cabin, and Bianca was a silent sleeper. He could hear every creak of the house as it settled during the night, and each sound startled him out of whatever semi-asleep state he had been in.

He’d managed to convince himself one night that the house wasn’t simply settling, but that someone was wandering around where they shouldn’t be, and took his new sword with him to investigate. That was the point of his training, wasn’t it? So that he could fight off monsters and intruders before they could hurt him or his sister?

Nico took a lap around the main floor of the house, but there wasn’t a single light on inside, nor any person or creature that he could see. He went up to the second floor, and still found nothing, and again on the third floor. Still, he thought he heard something shifting above him, despite the fact that he couldn’t find another staircase leading up. Finally, at the end of a hallway, Nico noticed a rope hanging from the ceiling, and tugged on it. He pulled open a trap door in the ceiling, and a ladder descended.

He looked around the dark hallway to make sure no one had seen him before he climbed the ladder. At first, he couldn’t see much of anything in the attic, but after a quick glance around the room, he noticed a faint green glow peeking out from around shelves upon shelves of different knick knacks. Nico picked his way around the room, careful not to make too much noise and alert anyone else in the house to what he was doing, until he found the source of the glow.

He almost jumped when he saw the figure sitting on her tripod stool, her tie-dyed dress moving in psychedelic waves of colors as luminescent fog moved around her. Nico couldn’t make out any distinct features on the figure in the dark, though she never seemed to move - only the fog around her did that, seeming to reach out for him, wrapping around him, nearly choking him.

Her voice seemed to come from all directions.

“You shall go west and face the god who has turned,

You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned,

You will be betrayed by one who calls you friend,

Your journey shall be for naught in the end.”

As soon as her words stopped echoing in his head, the fog and glow dissipated, and Nico fell to his knees coughing. He didn’t hear the trapdoor opening again behind him, only barely noticed the yellow light coming up from the hallway below. Nico scrambled to hide as someone climbed the ladder into the attic, but as soon as he heard the familiar sound of one particular god clearing his throat, Nico came out of hiding.

Mr. D, somehow managing to look even more unhappy than usual, was glaring at Nico with his arms crossed. “I was trying to stay out of Zeus’s business, kid, but you just had to screw me over on that one, huh?”

“I’m sorry!” Nico said immediately. “I didn’t mean to sneak around, but I heard a noise and—“

“What did you hear?” Mr. D asked with more patience than Nico had ever heard from him.

Nico couldn’t remember. “Just…just noises, like—“

“No, not in the house. What did you hear from her?” he tried again, nodding toward the figure on the stool.

Nico turned, and barely held back a shout at the sight of the figure. Now illuminated, Nico could see a corpse on that stool, dried out like some kind of mummy. “She’s dead!” Nico exclaimed. “How can she talk if she’s dead?”

“You tell me, Underworld spawn. Try to repeat her exact phrasing; it’s important how things are phrased.”

Nico tried his best to repeat the poem word for word, stumbling once or twice, though he was surprised at how well he was actually able to remember it.

Mr. D allowed himself a moment to absorb Nico’s words, then he nodded. “Yep, that’s a prophecy alright.”

“A prophecy?” Nico repeated. “Like, the future?”

“Loosely, yes.” Mr. D turned on his heel and started back toward the trapdoor. “C’mon, kid, you’ll need to tell Chiron everything.”

Nico hesitated. “Am I in trouble?”

“No.” Mr. D descended the ladder, then, after a second, his head popped back up through the trapdoor. “Well, not in any sense of the word that you’re familiar with. Hurry up, I don’t have all century.”

Nico didn’t think he’d ever understand what was happening. As soon as Nico told Chiron what had happened, Chiron called an emergency meeting of the head counsellors, which led to a gathering of some of the oldest demigods at camp - plus Annabeth Chase, the eleven-year-old counsellor of the Athena cabin - along with Nico and Bianca, all in their pajamas. They all sat around a ping pong table in the rec room, looking like the grumpiest slumber party on the Long Island Sound.

Many of the campers were grumbling to each other as they waited for the final arrivals, and Chiron finally started the meeting with a few clops of his hoof. When the noise died down, he announced, “A quest has been issued.”

Annabeth slammed her palms down on the table and spluttered, “What? To who?”

“The Oracle spoke to Nico di Angelo and spoke a new prophecy. I know you have wanted to partake in a quest, Annabeth, and while it wouldn’t be your own, this may be your only opportunity. That is, if Nico chooses you as one of his companions,” Chiron explained.

“I’m going,” Bianca said suddenly. “I…don’t really know what’s going on, but Nico won’t be going anywhere without me.”

“A quest with two kids of the Big Three?” Annabeth scoffed. “Sounds like a death sentence to me, no thanks.”

Luke elbowed Annabeth, muttering something that sounded like a reminder to be nice, and Annabeth mumbled an apology as she slouched back in her seat with her arms crossed.

Chiron cleared his throat. “This quest will be very dangerous, yes, just as all quests are. Before we discuss who will be the third on this quest, I believe we should try to decipher the prophecy and determine the best course of action for the di Angelos to take. Nico, if you could please recite the prophecy once more.”

Nico did, his voice shaky from nerves, though he tried not to focus on having so many eyes on him as he spoke.

“Go west and face the god who has turned,” Clarisse repeated. “Obviously that’s talking about Hades.” A few demigods shot her a look like, don’t bad-mouth their dad in front of them! “What? The entrance to the Underworld is way out west, right? That’s why demigods aren’t supposed to go too far west. And I think we all know he turned against Zeus. Who else could it be?”

“They’ll find the bolt, which Hades stole, and return it to Zeus,” Annabeth said, nodding along. “Sounds right to me.”

Nico and Bianca shared a confused look, then turned to Chiron, as if hoping for an explanation, though he didn’t seem to notice them.

Beckendorf cleared his throat. “Uh, I think we all need to be a little less vague. Bianca and Nico have no idea what happened during the solstice.”

Chiron sighed. “Of course.” He turned to Nico and Bianca and started to explain. “On the solstices each year, once in summer and once in winter, the twelve gods gather on Olympus. Only during the winter solstice is Hades allowed to join them. This past winter, the gods allowed some of the year-round campers to take a sort of…field trip to Olympus to witness their council. Sometime, during the night, Zeus’s master lightning bolt went missing, and has yet to turn up. He has taken to blaming his brothers, Poseidon and Hades, as he tends to do, but seeing as Hades has recently claimed you two as his children, Zeus may take your claiming as another admission of guilt.”

Bianca frowned. “What do you mean, another?”

“The Big Three made a pact,” Lee piped in. “After World War Two, they agreed to never have children again, because their kids are too powerful. Zeus and Poseidon have already broken it once, but now Hades is admitting to have broken it twice.”

“On top of that,” Katie Gardner said, “he’s probably trying to use you two as some kind of scapegoat.”

“Or to try to prove his innocence,” Silena Beauregard cut in. The demigods slowly devolved into arguments over Hades’s guilt or innocence.

Chiron cleared his throat. “To get back on topic,” he called, and waited for the room to quiet around him. He turned back to Nico and Bianca. “Do you understand, now? I believe that the focus of this quest will be to return Zeus’s master bolt to Olympus, and if we are to trust our interpretation of the prophecy, you will both need to travel to the Underworld and face your father in order to do so.”

“But what about the last two lines?” Bianca asked. “We’ll be betrayed by a friend, and the journey will be for nothing?”

Chiron looked uneasy. “Prophecies can mean…many things. It’s nearly impossible to determine what a prophecy truly means until after the quest is complete. It’s best not to worry about these things too much.”

Bianca didn’t seem convinced.

“Unless anyone has anything else they’d like to bring up, then I think we can bring this meeting to an end,” Chiron continued. “If the di Angelos are able to find a third member of their party, then we shall send them off after breakfast in the morning.”

Nico scanned the faces of each of the counsellors, but they all seemed to be avoiding his gaze - much like they had right after he’d been claimed.

After a moment, everyone stood from their seats and made to leave. Nico jumped up and blocked Beckendorf before he could make it out the door. “Beckendorf, will you come with us? Please?”

It looked like it pained him to say no. “I have to stay here to watch over my siblings, kiddo. If I wasn’t the head of my cabin, I’d go with you in a heartbeat. Tell you what, though, I’ll make sure your sword is finished before you leave in the morning, and I’ll make sure it’s sharp enough for you to cut any monster in half in a single swing.” He grinned and patted Nico on the shoulder, like a sharp sword was somehow better than an experienced demigod chaperone. He left the room, and soon, Nico and Bianca were the only two remaining.

Bianca wrapped her arms around Nico, and felt like she was being sent off to her death.

Nico didn’t feel like he could really enjoy breakfast the next morning - it felt like a prisoner’s last meal on death row. He still hadn’t found a third member for the quest, and Bianca wasn’t being any help. She was acting like the entire camp had already given up on them. Everyone seemed to be avoiding their eyes at the pavilion, as well.

When Nico went to turn his plate in, Will stopped in front of him. He held a backpack out to Nico and said, “Lee asked me to give this to you. It’s got a first aid kit, and some nectar and ambrosia, and a few snacks, and a little bit of demigod money and mortal money, just in case.”

Nico took the backpack from him and slung the straps over his shoulders. “Thanks, Will.”

“And, um. Good luck on your quest,” Will continued. “It’ll be weird being at camp without you after so long, but Chiron says you should be back by the solstice, so I guess that’s not too long.”

Nico’s head tilted. “Why does he think we’ll be back by then?”

Will frowned. “Because…it’s the solstice. Zeus and Poseidon are both gonna be back on Olympus at the same time, and if Zeus is still in a bad mood, then he’ll either try to start a war against Poseidon or Hades, which will both be bad. It’s best to just get the bolt back to Zeus before the solstice to avoid all that.”

Nico didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. Why did everybody know more about his quest than he did? Why wouldn’t they tell him anything? It was like they wanted him to fail!

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Will asked, his eyes widening in something like a mix of surprise and fear. “What is something I said? I’m sorry, please don’t cry!”

Nico furiously wiped at his eyes and felt wetness on his cheeks. “Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?” Nico exclaimed. “You know more about my quest than I do! Why doesn’t somebody else go on this quest instead of me? I’m just gonna mess everything up!”

Will still looked a little panicked. “I’ll go with you!”

Nico froze. “You…will?”

“Yeah!” Will tried for a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be fun! You still need a third, right? I’ll be a great third! I…know stuff, and I’m a healer…kind of. And besides, we’re friends, right? It’ll all work out just fine!”

The third line of the prophecy rang through Nico’s head at Will’s words: You will be betrayed by one who calls you friend.

He tried to ignore it. Chiron was right, worrying about it wouldn’t do anybody any good. Instead, Nico threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Will. “Thank you, Will.”

thanks for reading!

buy me a coffee

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #my writing #mine #botm

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three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years ago

Text

More of my bad writing

Title: Legends Are Told

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus

Characters: the seven, Nico, Reyna, various Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter campers

Tags: songfic, light angst (I guess?), hopeful-ish ending

Words: 1,032

Summary:

Heracles, Achilles, Theseus, Perseus, Jason, they all got their stories told.

They told their stories to their kids, and their kids told their kids, each time with less and less detail, until there is no story to tell.

The seven are forgotten as if they didn't save them all.

Some legends are told

Heracles, Achilles, Daphne, Perseus, Jason, they all got their stories told.

They weren't so lucky.

Some turn to dust or to gold

Percy's first monster, a Fury, and King Midas, who Jason, Piper, and Leo faced on their quest to free Hera.

They told those stories to their kids, and their kids told their kids, each time with less and less detail, until there is no story to tell. All that remains of their sacrifices is dust and ungrateful children who don't realize that the reason they have a cabin or an eagle to turn and look at is because of the bravery of Percy Jackson, of Hazel Levesque, of Annabeth Chase and Frank Zhang, and countless others.

But you will remember me

Remember me for centuries

Chiron will occasionally tell campers of their deeds. He will tell them how Percy Jackson reclaimed Zeus's lightning bolt and of how Thalia Grace stood on Half-Blood Hill, where the pine tree she was turned into after defending two other demigods from a pack of hellhounds still stands.

And just one mistake

Is all it will take

We'll go down in history

Percy actually does get into history books, as the kid who went missing, blew up the St. Louis Arch, reappeared in Los Angeles after a devastating earthquake, and claimed to have fought to get away from his kidnapper.

They still don't know what really happened.

Remember me for centuries

He's soon replaced by more interesting topics, like the first woman on Mars.

Mummified my teenage dreams

No, it's nothing wrong with me

The kids are all wrong

The story's all off

They twist the details, not giving credit to the real heroes.

It was Clarisse who slayed the drakon, not Percy or Annabeth or anybody else in the Battle of Manhattan. They don't remember her, though.

The glory is given to those who don't want it, instead of the ones who actually did it.

Heavy metal broke my heart

She dies a few years afterward. A fight with a dracaena. A sword right through the heart.

It was a death she would have wanted. An honorable one, one where she fought to defend her and her family, Chris and her daughter Silena.

Hardly anyone who didn't know her even knows that she did all that. Come on, come on and let me in

The bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints

And this is supposed to match

The darkness that you felt

No one remembers Nico and Reyna's journey through the shadows to bring the statue that now stands guard over camp and New Athens. No one remembers how he nearly faded away, lost to memories and darkness.

The strength it took, the courage, to fight them off and prevent a war is lost to time.

I never meant for you to fix yourself

And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name

'Cause I was only born inside my dreams

No one remembers Octavian, flawed as he was. No one remembers that although he seemed crazy, he was trying to do the best for his people, pushing for a new leader and to attack before they did. Reyna wasn't replacing Jason after months of him being missing, then they elect a kid they knew for all of two days. Then his friends bomb the city.

No one, of course, realizes this. For all that he's remembered, he remembered as a power hungry villain.

Until you die for me, as long as there's a light, my shadow's over you

'Cause I, I am the opposite of amnesia

And you're a cherry blossom

You're about to bloom

You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon

Who could forget Piper McLean, the daughter of Aphrodite strong enough to charm a primordial goddess to sleep, to make a automaton come to life.

Why should we remember? They say. She was just another weak, stuck up child of Aphrodite. Clearly someone else did it. Someone stronger, someone who could save their friends instead of someone who faints at the sight of blood.

As she cries over Jason's body, killed by a monster on his yacht, she vows never to let that happen again. She would rather die than watch someone else she loves die before her eyes.

No one bothers to remember the sacrifice she made for her younger siblings.

No one bothers to remember any of their stories.

We've been here forever

The gods, the gods could lift a finger to help them be remembered.

They don't.

They're gone so quickly, after all...

And here's the frozen proof

Khione comes after Leo one last time, freezing him before he can even notice the goddess behind him.

I could scream forever

Hazel dies screaming as her own tunnel collapses on her and Frank.

We are the poisoned youth

All demigods are. Because of who their parents are, they will live in fear for their whole life.

Annabeth and Nico both die to actual poison. Annabeth from a two headed snake bite, Nico from giving into the whispers of shadow travel.

Some legends are told

Atalanta and Theseus', yes, but not the ones about Annabeth Chase, architect of Olympus, Frank Zhang, praetor of the Twelfth Legion, or Zoe Nightshade.

Some turn to dust or to gold

Percy is the only one who dies a peaceful death, going in his sleep.

But you will remember me

Their children try to hold on, and Thalia tells everyone stories about them whenever she, Reyna and the rest of the Hunters are at camp.

Remember me for centuries

The hippocampi still hang in the Poseidon cabin.

And just one mistake

Is all it will take

We'll go down in history

Remember me for centuries

But they don't.

We'll go down in history

Remember me for centuries

One day, a camper finds ten handwritten books, in Ancient Greek and Latin, in the Big House attic. The Lightning Thief, the first one reads.

She opens the book. A picture of nine laughing teenagers falls out. She picks it up and sets it aside before turning to the first page.

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood...

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #heroes of olympus #songfic #mb's shitty writing

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hgb94 · 5 years ago

Text

I’ve got a lot of emotions about Zolf, clearly. This got...a little long. So, here are all the things I love about Zolf, and all the things about him that break my heart. Really, all the things I love about him end up breaking my heart. I’m definitely not projecting at all in here. This is 100% well thought out.

Zolf is The Protector. It’s one of the first and most obvious of his characteristics that I noticed. He constantly tries to protect the lives of people around him, even if he barely knows them, even if he doesn’t particularly like them. It was heartwarming to see how deeply he cared for people he’d known such a short time. He knew Sasha for about 10 seconds before stepping in between her and Barret’s men. “Didn’t seem very fair odds.” He’d known Hamid for two or three days before offering to wear Barret’s ring for him. “Mr Barret, as their employer, you are dealing with me.” He didn’t even like Wilde, but he categorically refused to hand him over to Gourmand’s men in exchange for his own (and the group’s) safety. He grew to despise Bertie, but still did his best to keep him safe. And when he finally becomes enraged by Bertie and is ready to kill him, his central reason is: “I have had it with his constant endangering of the people that I like and love!” The only thing that gets him to stand down is Sasha reminding him that Bertie’s death would upset Hamid. He’s generally the one advocating for the more sensible course of action. He gets angry with Hamid for engaging in reckless heroics and yells at him for a solid 5 minutes before admitting that he feels responsible for him and he doesn’t want him to die. Sasha wants to ride the gyrocopters, and he’s citing a newspaper article about recent crashes. It was endearing and heartwarming, but by the time he left in Prague, it was heartbreaking, for three reasons.

He blames himself when the people he cares for get hurt, and when he can’t protect them, he feels useless. After the catacombs and Mr. Ceiling, he can’t walk, he can’t fight, and he doesn’t even have a weapon. Everything he did to protect them during that arc, at significant risk to himself, wasn’t enough. “I’ve been so useless.” Sasha died. Hamid got hurt. He had to sit at the top of the stairs, unable to do anything, listening to Hamid scream as he was burned by the fire elemental. One of the only things he really has left to protect them after the catacombs is his ability to heal, which is probably why it hurts so much when Hamid refuses his healing, choosing to use a potion instead. (To my knowledge, Hamid has never willingly accepted healing from Zolf since learning that Zolf’s healing powers were connected to the whole Poseidon drowning sacrifice thing.) There in the Arc, without his legs, without a weapon or armor, healing is the only thing he feels like he can offer. And Hamid won’t let him. The world collapsed and not only can he not fix it, he blames himself for it. “I don’t think I’m powerful, I think I’m powerless! I can’t do anything about this, I can’t fix the mistakes that I’ve made. I can’t walk, I can’t get out and heal people because I need help to get down the stairs.”

He’ll do anything to protect others, but he hates asking for help himself. Honestly, although I didn’t realize it until later, this starts becoming evident at Dover. The only thing Zolf can do during his imprisonment and court-martial is provide Hamid with information to formulate a defense. He has to sit and wait and rely on his new friends to get him out of it. He was powerless. And afterward, Hamid had to push him to accept a temporary loan of 500 gold to pay off his debt to the navy. Later, when Mme. Rose asks them about their most embarrassing memory, Zolf’s is being court-martialed. When he’s lectured at the Temple of Poseidon and sent to cross the channel on a tiny boat in a terrible storm, he doesn’t ask anyone to come with him. He makes it perfectly clear how dangerous this will be, assures them that he’s the only one who needs to do this and won’t blame anyone for taking the train instead, and then waits for them to choose. In the catacombs, with his ruined leg, he focuses on Hamid. He buries the fact that he’s now effectively legless. Box that up and deal with it later, because Hamid and Sasha need him to stay calm. And on the way out of the Arc, it doesn’t matter how much he’s done for the group, he feels the need to apologize to Sasha for her having to carry him around when he’s legless. “You investigate, I’ll watch up here. Don’t want to be a burden.” When she stretches out her back at the hotel after putting him down, he apologizes again, like it’s his fault.

The only life Zolf willingly risks is his own. When Sasha goes overboard crossing the channel, he only pauses long enough to try and make sure Hamid is safe before throwing himself after her, while offering Poseidon his life for hers. As Mr. Ceiling forms a massive robot to attack the group, he’s in a wheelchair, legless, without armor or weapons, and he hides the three of them from its sight and puts himself between it and them. When Earhart puts a gun to Sasha’s head, he shakes off his airsickness and draws her attention. “If you expect me to fear death, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” I don’t think that was false bravado. It’s true. He doesn’t fear his death. He’s never been afraid for himself. He fears the deaths of people he loves. I would argue that is his greatest fear.

I also love Zolf’s passion for romance novels. It’s freaking adorable at first. He’s locked in a jail cell and falls in love with a series of romance novels. “Jennifer, no!” “Richard is not the right one for you!” From the description, they’re simple, melodramatic, and predictable, and I’ve definitely read a few books of that exact genre. He loves them and they’re a wonderful escape for him. When he reacts so violently to Bertie endangering the author, Harrison Campbell, it seems a little excessive at first. And ultimately perhaps that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, the last in a long string of incidents that caused him to snap. But I get it. I have that thing. The thing that you go to on the bad days. When your mind won’t stop spinning out of control with worst-case scenarios.When you have to get out of your own head for a few hours. When you’re numb and struggling to feel anything at all. It becomes a lifeline that you hold onto when you’re drowning, and to have someone tell you that it’s trash, to mock it, to try and destroy your connection to it…I’d have tried to toss Bertie overboard too. Okay, so maybe I am projecting a little. Zolf’s self-confidence and faith. At the start, Zolf projects a lot of confidence. He’s the leader, he guides the group, makes decisions, and he seems to know who he is, Zolf Smith, Cleric of Poseidon. He believes that he knows what his god wants, and he’s devoted to those beliefs. His confidence balances his caution and allows him to lead the group through dangerous situations while keeping a clear head. After visiting the Temple of Poseidon, he does his best to alter course to his new perception of Poseidon’s desires, but there’s a little crack, a hairline fracture in his understanding of his god and himself. And then Mr Ceiling takes a chisel and hammer to the cracks and shatters Zolf’s faith. “I saw a robot casually decide, ‘maybe I should be a god’, and do you know what, I think it could have done it, because, our gods, right, they’re like us. They’re as stupid and as fallible as us, and they screw up. If something can casually decide, ‘maybe I’ll be a god’, and I have no way of saying that it couldn’t become a god, what’s Poseidon?” He’s faced with the fallout of their choices in Paris, and he doesn’t know if they did the right thing. The economy of Paris has collapsed, chaos, riots, violence, how many people have died? Is this really better? “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, I can’t see into the future, but usually my decisions don’t affect millions of people!” And after his dreams from Poseidon, Zolf is filled with more questions than answers. “I don’t know why he’s…stupid dreams and symbolism and rubbish like that and not anything...just…I just want to have a conversation.” Poseidon gives him new legs, but legs aren’t answers. “I just don’t feel like I deserve them. I don’t know why I have them. I don’t know why he’s given them to me. I just don’t know.” They make their way out of Paris and see a Meritocrat destroy Eiffel’s Folly to control the rioting. He learns that his family were part of the Harlequins. Has he been working for the wrong people? And then he nearly kills Bertie and he kills any faith he had left in his ability to lead this group without putting them in danger.

In the end, all of this leads to Prague. He’s lost his faith, he’s doubting his god, he’s doubting the Meritocrats, he’s doubting his choices. “I am the weak link.” “You might believe in me, I don’t anymore.” He’s afraid he’ll crack, make choices that put them at risk, and if he can’t trust himself to protect them, why is he still here? He has to leave. Partly to sort himself out, to deal with his own issues, but also for them. He can’t stay in command when he can’t trust his own choices. “I don’t trust myself, and I don’t trust myself around you.” If someone gets killed, that’s on him. “I know that if something happens again and I crack…I might not be able to do anything to save you.” At the end of the day, he’s still trying to protect them. He just believes that the best protection he can offer is his absence.

And...a little Sasha heartbreak as frosting on this pain cake. Zolf promised to help with her degenerative magical disease. He promised that he wouldn’t let her die. As long as she was with him, he’d be able to slow it down. They’d go do research and look into it and find someone else well-versed in magic and diseases who could cure her. He promised. And then he left. And sure, she could have done it on her own. She could have pushed “cure my disease so I don’t die” to the top of their priority list. She could have told Hamid what was happening, immediately sought out the Aphrodite lot as the cleric of Artemis suggested. She could have done that alone. But this is Sasha we’re talking about, and the only person Sasha ever trusted enough to willingly ask for help was Zolf. And she sits there, listening to him in Prague, listening to all the reasons that he feels he needs to leave. She never brings up her sickness as a reason for him to stay, never even hints at it. She listens to everything he says, and she tells him he should be free to leave. “If you’re choosing to go, then...you should have the choice. That should be allowed.”

#rqg #rqg spoilers #zolf smith #meta #I love him a lot

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plus-size-reader · 6 years ago

Text

Hell Fire

Tyson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2916 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Hades who is an outsider to the other campers until Tyson shows up and decides to become her friend.

———————————————————————————————————

You shouldn’t have even been allowed out of the depths of Tartarus.

However, seeing as you were half mortal and had never met your father, you resided strictly in the confines of Camp Half Blood, with all the other demigods.

Not that being a demigod didn’t seem to make you any more popular with the others. No matter what you did, you always felt like an outsider.

It just didn’t seem like you belonged there, not that you belonged anywhere else either.

For starters, your father was one of the big three, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was the literal God of the underworld. It was far from a winning track record but you knew that even if Hades hadn’t been the torturer of all eternally damned souls, you probably wouldn’t have been the queen bee.

That sort of thing just wasn’t in your nature.

You had always been soft spoken and though you’d been at the camp longer than any other, few knew much about you. You had already been here when most of them arrived, something that you were sure only added to your mystery.

You had never done a thing in the world to anyone but they didn’t care. You were different, even by their ungodly standards and they didn’t like you because of that. You had been told that your eyes had this fire beneath that could draw in anyone’s attention, regardless of their desire. Something that scared them, you assumed.

The fact that your appearance was sort of intimidating didn’t do much to help either. You carried your strong frame with this ease and power that could rival Athena’s own, with a calm rage, bubbling just beneath the surface.

For all these reasons and a million more, you never assumed one of them would make a conscious choice to join you at lunch.

Until Tyson.

Tyson came into your life on his first day at camp.

He didn’t know anyone aside from his brother, who didn’t seem all that excited to see him, and no one was all too welcoming at all.

You knew how intimidating it could be, coming in with all the lunch tables filled to the brim with different cliques, except yours.

No one wanted to risk being seen with the daughter of Hades so you had a table all to yourself. Maybe that was why Tyson had picked you, because one person was a whole lot easier than forty when it came to greetings.

“Hello”

His voice startled you, you head snapping up at his tone.

Normally, you didn’t have to worry about being interrupted while eating, so you were more shocked than anything else at his appearance there.

“Hi” you muttered, waiting for him to elaborate on his existence there. It wasn’t exactly fair, as this stranger didn’t owe you anything but it would be nice to know more about him.

Obviously, there had to be something wrong with him if he was here.

“My name’s Tyson, can I sit with you?” He asked after a brief stint of silence, gesturing all around to the empty table around you. You couldn't help but glance around, searching for whoever had put him up to this but found nothing.

This was just Tyson trying to make one friend on his first day.

He’d picked a hell of a place to start.

“I guess, go ahead” you decided, taking his preoccupation as a chance to look him over while he got situated.

He was tall, with a mop of sandy blonde hair falling into view of a single blue eye in the middle of his forehead. It was hardly what you’d been expecting when you woke up today but all things considered, you didn’t care.

You’d all heard stories of how vicious and aggressive cyclops could be but there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you could take him down if you had to.

It didn’t hurt that he’d chosen to sit as close to you as possible, even given all the space available to him. If he wanted to do you any harm, you were sure that he would have waited until you were alone, not here in front of everyone.

What you were more concerned about was what he’d expect from you now that he was here.

Idle conversation wasn’t your strong suit and you were really hoping he would stay quiet but something told you that wasn’t going to happen. Tyson just gave off the vibe of someone who wanted to know the life story of everyone he met.

...And you couldn’t have been more right about that.

“So, who are your parents?” He wondered, not even giving you a second to adjust to his company.

When you turned to look at him, you found that he had this curious look on his face, something that you were sure you could wipe off with a single word. No one ever stuck around once they found out the truth and he’d be no different.

He’d be out of here before too long, assuming he managed to stick around at all.

“Hades” you allowed, the confident pride that most of the demigods associated with their parents missing from your tone. You wanted to be proud of your father, and all the things he’d done, but that wasn’t exactly a simple task.

The whole thing was complicated, and no one understood that better than you did.

You were sure that as soon as you said it, the truth would send him running for the hills but Tyson didn’t even blink. In fact, all he did was smile at you, a thoughtful nod accompanying the action.

It didn’t make any sense.

So much so that you actually had a hard time wiping the shocked look off your face, this had never happened before and you weren’t sure how to react. Hadn’t he heard you? Why was he just sitting there?

“Aren’t you gonna run or laugh or something? I said Hades” You repeated, doing your best to keep your concern for him at bay. For the first time in this entire exchange, you were beginning to feel like there may have been something wrong with him.

What was going on?

The boy only shrugged, clearly unaffected by your earth-shattering confession. Obviously, he didn’t understand what it meant, or he didn’t know well enough to be bothered, but a few days in this place would teach him.

The others would, no doubt, rub off on him and he’d be teasing you by the end of the week. That was what always happened, even with the ones that didn’t want to be outright about the way they felt.

“Nope, my dad’s Poseidon” he leveled, answering his previous question when it was clear to him that you weren’t going to return the courtesy. In all fairness though, you were still trying to wrap your mind around the whole thing.

It didn’t make any sense.

Though, before you could ask any more, you heard Clarice from the other side of the cafeteria. She had this time honored tradition of tormenting you, just for the fun of it, but the worst of it all was that you’d grown accustomed to it.

Even in a place where you were all misfits, you managed to stay on the outskirts.

“Hey Jackson, you’d better get your brother away from the freak before she sells his soul into damnation” she cackled, laughter erupting from all around her. Truth be told, it wasn’t one of her better insults but for some reason your stomach sank at the prospect of Tyson becoming afraid of you.

You had only known him for a little while, but even in such a short time, he’d shown you a kindness that you weren’t used to here. He didn’t even seem bothered by the truth about who your father was at first, but nothing said that couldn’t change.

The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you all alone again, you were just starting to get over his kindness.

Fortunately for you, Tyson didn’t seem to be having any of it. Where you assumed he would have gotten up and left, you found him still sitting there.

It was hardly what you’d been expecting, but, you weren’t entirely ungrateful for it. The trouble was that Clarisse and the others were far from done. The punchline of their torture was yet to come.

“Luke,Is that sulfur I smell?” she called, once again earning a laugh as she made a production of the whole thing, searching for the blonde in the crowd. Really, you didn’t get the hype of it all, but the rest of the campers got a kick out of this whole thing.

You did your best to just let them finish, not even bothering to react. You had tried everything you could think of to make it stop but it was useless. For some reason, this was what they found funny, and there was little you could do about it.

“Does she do that a lot-” Tyson started, but you stopped him with a single finger in the air. You knew that their little charade was almost over, and it was best to let them finish. At least then, you could finish your lunch in peace.

“I don’t know, I think it’s just the hell fire” he replied, a dumb shrug on his shoulders as he tossed it away, landing the dig in the same way he did every time.

They would never leave that alone. It didn’t matter if it was during a bonfire, or roasting marshmallows, they always made the hell fire joke. At first, you had tried to remind them that you’d never met your father either, like them, but that didn’t seem to matter.

By this point, they were clearly having too much fun to stop now.

“They’re done now, but you should probably go sit somewhere else before they start making jokes about you too” you suggested, shooing him away with the back of your hand. Naturally, you assumed that if the rest hadn’t been enough to scare him away, this was certainly going to do the trick.

No one in their right mind would sign up for the kind of ridicule you had to endure every day, but Tyson couldn’t understand your hesitance. Ever after everything, he thought you were cool, and even if you weren’t, no one deserved to be treated like that.

You were the only person he’d ever met who didn’t seem to care about his affliction. When no one else would, you had offered him somewhere to belong, even as small of a gesture as it was.

It meant something to him, and he wasn’t just going to forget it.

It was true that the two of you were polar opposites, literally and figuratively but Tyson couldn’t bear the idea of leaving you alone. You were a little different and it was clear that it would take some time to gain your trust, but he wasn’t against doing that.

One good friend was better than a hundred who wouldn’t be there for him when he needed them.

“I think I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you” he grinned, taking a second to take in the look on your face as he spoke. You didn’t want them to know, to see how much it affected you, but he could see it.

What they’d said had upset you.

Without much thought at all, he reached across the table to take your hand in his own. It was an action you couldn't have seen coming, or something you knew what to do with but it did what it was designed to do.

Slowly, your hand, that had previously been crunched in a tight fist, relaxed against his own as you allowed yourself to calm down.

It was something that caught you off guard, but you chose to ignore your initial instinct to snatch back your hand from his grasp. There was something much more pressing going on, something you needed to know.

“Why?” You asked, doing your best not to sound super bothered but you couldn’t help it, it didn’t make any sense to you.

What kind of person would risk the ridicule of your entire camp just to be friends with someone like you? If you were in his place, you wouldn’t have done it.

Again Tyson shrugged, giving your question only a second of thought.

“I’ve always liked fire, I think that it’s beautiful” he allowed, earning an instant scoff from you. You knew what he was trying to do, and it may have worked, had he kept that line to himself. No one knew fire better than you, and you’d never considered it beautiful.

You’d never considered it at all, not really.

“It’s dangerous” you counter but before he could even register your words, he’d made up his mind.

“It’s powerful, like you are”

His words were so final, so honest, that even you couldn’t argue. It didn’t matter that you didn’t believe what he was saying, because you knew that he did. Somehow, in less than an hour, he’d managed to learn more about you than anyone else in the camp knew.

It was just the way that he was.

There was something about Tyson that you couldn’t argue with, no matter how hard you tried to poke holes in his argument.

He had this light about him that was so brilliant, and so real. In every way, he was good for the sake of good, and while it didn’t make any sense that he wanted to be anywhere near you, you couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

“How can you think that I’m powerful? You don’t even know me” you asked, completely unsure what he was on. As much as you wanted to believe what he was saying, as much as you wanted it to be the truth, you just weren’t sure.

It wasn’t like he had years of experience by your side. The two of you might as well have been complete strangers, and even still, he felt completely comfortable making such heavy statements about you.

Naturally, you expected some sort of realization or step back on his part since you’d clearly gotten the better of him, but that never came.

It was clear that Tyson was genuinely just that clueless. There was no way he really believed those things about you, or that he really had any interest in what was best for you, he was probably just lonely.

Like you were.

Still, just when you thought you’d once again beat him with logic, Tyson smiled. It was the sort of thing that told you the wheels in his head were turning, that he was coming up with some cheesy crap that you couldn’t argue with.

...And of course, you were right.

“I can see it, it’s right there in the pools of your eyes” he hummed, only serving to confuse you further. He had this ability to say the deepest and most inspiring things as if they were no big deal.

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit with the idea that someone so pure and gentle could enjoy your company so much.

There were certain things that you’d come to understand about yourself since coming to Camp Halfblood, and one of those was that you were incredibly hard to get to know. To be fair, no one had ever put in a real effort to do it, but if they did, you were sure they’d have trouble.

You just didn’t do it well.

To you, it didn’t seem like Tyson should have been any different, but here he was. He’d made it farther in this conversation than most people did in months of knowing you, but that said more about him than you.

He was that kind of person, the kind of person who could find the best in even the worst people.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I'm y’know, evil?” You ask, taking a sip of your cherry soda through a glass straw, unable to keep yourself from biting down on the object slightly as your jaw tensed.

You thought you ought to ask, but that didn’t mean you were looking forward to having to hear his answer. As best you knew, this was going to be it and Tyson would just get up and leave, like he should have done at the start of this.

After a few seconds without an answer from him, you let yourself look at him, trying your best to gage his reaction to what you’d asked.

It wasn’t until this moment that you saw a hint of upset in the blue eye, staring you down as best he could without blushing. He wasn’t angry about your question, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to say what he wanted to.

The only thing that forced the words was his lips was the understanding of just how true they were.

“You aren’t evil, no matter what they say” He coos, a softness in his voice that felt almost intimate. It was something you hadn’t been expecting, but even more unexpected than that was the way your stomach flipped at his words.

Though, before you could say anything else, Tyson let go of your hand and left you all alone at your table, awestruck and at a loss for words.

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