#angsty with hazel

[somewhereincairparavel]

Percy this. Percy that. It was always about Percy Jackson. All the fucking time. 

It was always about the Hero of Olympus, the one who defeated Kronos and led the battle of Manhattan, the one who was offered immortality by the king of the gods himself, the one who restored glory to Rome by returning the golden eagle, the one who became praetor of the Roman camp in 2 weeks with limited training. 

His Roman camp. Jason Grace's Roman camp.

Percy Jackson had pulled off everything in 2 weeks that Jason Grace wasn't able to accomplish despite dedicating his whole life for duty. 11 years of blood, sweat and tears, simply gone down the drain.

Jason had failed his camp. He had failed his home. Turns out, he wasn't as great as the people of Rome had once preached about him. It was obvious considering the less than warm welcome he had gotten from his so-called “home”. 

He received no hugs, no cheers, no “we missed you jason!”, no “I was so worried about you!” or even a single pat on the arm by his “friend” Dakota. Dakota and Gwendolyn hadn't even spared a glance at him.

Nothing. Instead, this new Jackson boy was held up to worship like a god amongst the people who once considered Jason a “hero”.

Jason laughed bitterly. Was it selfish of him to be disappointed with Reyna? With a pang, he got to know that Reyna hadn't sent a single search party out to look for her “best friend”. Not like Annabeth did for Percy, not like Thalia did for Percy.

With a pang, he got to know that the whole camp basically deemed him as ‘dead’ and Reyna hadn't even set up a memorial of remembrance for him. The camp had simply moved on with their new hero. Without a single shred of thought for Jason Grace. 

The forgotten Hero. The lost hero. Jason Grace.

These thoughts of doubt gnawed on Jason's mind, slowly eating him up ever since he'd first seen Percy Jackson in those damned praetor togas that once belonged to him. 

He didn't dislike the boy, of course not, it wasn't Percy's fault that Hera wiped their memories or switched camps.

 But it was hard for Jason to not resent him, or feel even the tiniest amount of envy, knowing that Reyna willingly replaced him with Jackson. Very quickly too, at that. He overheard Octavian blabbing to his lackeys about how Reyna “was head over heels for Percy almost immediately” 

“I guess that's it. Maybe I am someone who is easy to replace.” Jason thought, his eyes pricking as he looked over from the flying ship, at the place he once used to call home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason watched remorsefully as Thalia, Grover, Percy and Annabeth were all gathered at the table in camp half blood, cracking jokes about dam french fries or whatever that meant.

Thalia caught Jason's eyes, staring at all of them from a distance. She smiled softly, and gave him a tiny wave. He weaved his lips into something that was meant to look like a wry smile, but it came out as a slight grimace, as he waved back.

Thalia was so close to Jason, yet so far away.

He knew she loved him, but it felt different. And an annoying, nagging part of Jason had known that Thalia would never be as close to him as she was to Annabeth or Percy. 

Ironic isn't it? Jason and Thalia were always connected since they came from the same womb, yet she was closer to Annabeth, a girl she'd found after she had run away from the same woman that had given Jason to the wolves. The same woman who had turned his life upside down by abandoning him. 

Thalia had found Annabeth right after she thought she had lost Jason. In a strangely ironic way, Jason felt like he'd been replaced all over again.

Thalia had replaced Jason as a younger sibling with Annabeth without even realizing it, all of this took place mere months after a baby Jason was considered to be dead. This situation had strangely reminded him of Camp Jupiter, how he was replaced by Percy right after Jason was considered “dead” by Camp Jupiter.

This made Jason reach the possibility that if he were indeed “dead”, he wouldn't be missed. People wouldn't bat an eyelash. Since there was always someone better than him. Someone like Percy Jackson, who could easily fill the void Jason would leave behind.

His eyes watered, as he looked at how much fun his sister had with his friends. Knowing full well, that he'd never be able to do the same.

Jason felt ashamed that he had to ask Percy about Thalia’s likes and dislikes, he was thalia’s brother. He was supposed to know.

Jason watched as Thalia quickly hugged the trio, as she left their table to leave with the hunters, not even realizing that there was one person whom she forgot to hug.

Don't take it personally. Don't take it personally. She just forgot. She doesn't hate you. She just forgot. She doesn't prefer Percy over you. She's in a hurry. That's why she forgot. Jason repeated that like a mantra, the only person he was trying to convince was himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And he rejected immortality!- oh you should've seen Zeus' face!” Annabeth exclaimed to Hazel excitedly, as Percy was blushing at the compliment fountain being poured at him by Hazel and Annabeth.

Jason had always been fascinated by that story, the almighty Percy Jackson getting offered to become a god, by Zeus.

His father. Jason's father, Zeus. 

Jason felt stupid and guilty for getting envious, it's not the fact that Percy had been offered immortality, no. Jason couldn't care less about being immortal. It was the person who offered Percy invincibility that bothered Jason so much. 

Jason knew that even if he went to the ends of the world to accomplish something, his father wouldn't be able to praise him or even talk to him for a long time. 

Zeus and Jason could never be like Hades and Nico, or Poseidon and Percy. That's just how it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reyna had come to camp half blood for a fun visit. Jason would've been ecstatic in other circumstances, but in this case, he wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Because currently, Reyna seemed to be looking at everyone, but refused to meet Jason's eyes. She seemed to keep her distance as she laughed at something Percy and Piper were saying. 

She may as well have just stabbed him, it would've hurt a lot less. 

He had truly been naive to believe that he could make amends with Reyna. Now he knew, it would never be possible. There was too much pain mixed with bitterness on both ends. But seeing her get along with Percy reminded him of the old times of friendship he and Reyna had shared. Keyword: had.

Once again, the fates had shown him that Percy Jackson would always be better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Jason Grace lay on the cold floor, coughing out blood. He realized he was alone, he was dying, but he was alone.

Like always. The sickly voice of Gaia, that had once haunted his nightmares, boomed in his head. Jason knew he was hallucinating as a result of blood loss, Gaia is in deep slumber. But that did not stop the voice in his head that was invented by his insecurities. Even in the end, you've been forgotten, Jason Grace. Because that's what you will always be. The second best. The leftover. The pawn who is discarded, after his purpose has been fulfilled. Percy Jackson would always be better in everyone's eyes. 

To the Romans, you are simply the one who betrayed his lineage. But Percy is the one who restored glory. He did your job for you.

To the Greeks, you are simply a burden, one whom they were forced to welcome.

To your father, you are merely one of his many sons. 

To your sister, you are a stranger.

Jason's resolve to live had weakened, hot tears were streaming down his face as he closed his eyes in defeat, he had come to the painful conclusion that nobody is going to come find his body. Nobody is going to mourn him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh I will always be much better than you at this! Bring it on, dude!” Percy laughed as he striked his play sword lightsaber at Jason's. They clashed. 

“You wish, Jackson!” Jason shot back jokingly, as they sparred playfully with toy lightsabers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jackson, you jerk. You were right after all, you will always be much better than me” Jason laughed bitterly, as he recalled that memory of his sparring session with Percy.

 Suddenly everything went black. The life had successfully ebbed out of him.

Little did Jason know, was that someone had indeed come to look for him. Tempest, his Pegasus had come to retrieve his body, but Jason was long gone. People had indeed mourned him. His friends were, indeed, anguished. His sister was, indeed, heartbroken.

Jason's soul parted this world, with the knowledge that he'd always be The forgotten Hero. 

The lost hero. Jason Grace.

[super-un-stable]

Things kids do sometimes (I did this once sorry dad)

[thaliasthunder]

remember being 14 and thinking "no one look at me or i'll kms"

[hazelkjt]

As one wanders down the docks of Tuliyollal, they may come across a peculiar woman impatiently tapping her foot and scowling towards the center of town. Dressed in all black despite the climate and carrying a massive scythe upon her back, one might think twice before realizing she is a member of a merchant ship's crew. She's muttering something to herself, something about "making those two pay when they ever decide to show up..."

[angsty-doodler]

various doodles

(the human banban design belongs to my friend @evilmafuyu666 !!)

[hyperfixation-fix]

Ok ok people seemed to actually kinda like my last fic and I now have a more solid plan for my ongoing one, so I'm feeling confident enough to announce it.

Seven Nights on the Argo II by gabby_i_guess

Summary:

From June 25th to July 1st, seven demigods (and a satyr) sailed the Argo II across the globe to save the world. Between the fights, between the attacks, between the endless tasks - what was it like aboard that ship? Did the Seven ever steal just a moment or two of normalcy? Did they savor that bittersweet taste of the life they should have had? Did they slip out of their cabin to steal a midnight snack, or feel their heart lurch as hands brushed together in the dark? Did they whisper secrets to each other with half-lidded eyes, or sit in the hallway in their pajamas and tell jokes until they couldn't look at each other without giggling?

In the dreamy hours between dusk and dawn, when nothing is quite real and yet everything is so very vibrant - did the Seven ever forget that they were soldiers and become teenagers again?

(and just to really get you guys interested, here's what you have to look forward to, with POV and theme)

Chapters:

24th of June - Annabeth (angst/romance)

25th of June - Piper (angst/heartbreak)

26th of June - Frank (general shenanigans/slice of life)

27th of June - Hazel (bonding/slice of life)

28th of June - Percy (bonding)

29th of June - Jason (romance/bonding)

30th of June - Leo (slice of life/bonding)

Fingers crossed it works out well hehe

[hazellvsq]

i’ve got such a specific vision in my head for bianca and hazel if they lived to be teenagers together in the modern world. matching doc martens, overlong bangs, big jackets and baggy jeans and long necklaces. black eyeliner and nail polish that they share. watching old movies together, writing bad poetry and drawing worse art. sulking at dinner with their dad and morosely poking at their vegetables. waiting for nico to come out to the car and they both have headphones on completely ignoring each other. constantly disappearing at odd hours and/or walking off to go hang out in the woods together.

[chamaleonsoul]

Always In Spring

Rating: M Pairing: Calum Hood/Luke Hemmings Word count: 17,757 Summary: Luke and Calum’s friendship has gone through many highs and lows, and it’s so full of parallels and full-circle moments that it’s almost like the universe is set to make sure they grow, love and stay together. Spotify playlist

Written for the 5sos Friends to Lovers Fic Fest 2024!

@5sos-fic-fest

[anticomedygarden]

everyone goes south, every now and then

-

title from billy joel's 'the stranger'

based on this post on my main

thanks @queeremochaos for the push to write this!

-

“I don’t care how you phrase it, I’m not gonna endorse you going back to Tartarus,” Percy said, voice already sharper than it was fifteen minutes ago when Nico had first entered his and Annabeth’s apartment. 

He and Will were visiting their friends in New Rome for a much needed break. Well, as much as it could be considered a break when Will kept trying to go ‘check out the infirmary’. Nico knew what that meant: work. He had finally relented after three days, however, and Will was getting a guided tour of Camp Jupiter’s medical facilities while Nico hung out with Percy and Jason. 

“It’s not like I’m asking you to go,” he grumbled. And he wasn’t! He just wanted to see Iapetus again. He hadn’t even asked Will yet. 

Abruptly, Percy slammed down the bowl he was mixing batter in, and Nico jumped. “It doesn’t matter, Nico! Tartarus is literally hell! All three of us barely survived. Why would you want to go back?”

Wide-eyed, Nico just blinked at him for a moment. It took a lot to get Percy mad at his friends, but it seemed Nico had pressed the right buttons. He always had been good at that. 

At the table, Jason also looked shocked at their friend’s outburst, though Nico almost told him not to bother. Jason hadn’t been there for those first couple years of Nico and Percy’s relationship and therefore had no idea the extent of anger they could level at each other. 

The son of Hades looked back at Percy. “I just wanna fix the mess that you left behind.”

Next to him, Jason gasped, but Nico didn’t wait around to see Percy’s reaction. He ran out the door into the hallway and was halfway down the steps when Jason caught up with him. 

“Go away,” Nico bit out, and continued down the stairs. 

Panting slightly (had Nico really been going that fast?), Jason said, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Of course he did. Because Jason was Rome’s little golden boy who had never been mean to anyone in his life. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” he responded, jogging faster to cut in front of the black-haired boy.

Nico pushed past him. “I don’t need you to check on me like a child.”

Jason frowned. “You are a child.”

He snorted. As if. “Well, you’ve done it, so you can go check on Percy now. I know you’re going to.”

The son of Jupiter sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I care any less about your answer.” He paused. “And what you said to him was pretty bad.”

Nico waved him off. “By tomorrow, he’ll have apologized for getting mad, I’ll feel bad for being mean, and neither of us will care anymore.” Such was the nature of their relationship, especially since the Giant War had ended, much to the chagrin of Will and Annabeth who were often caught in the middle of their arguments. 

Jason looked at him skeptically. “I don’t understand you two.”

“Join the club.”

Nico turned to leave, and Jason shouted after him, “I also don’t think you should go to Tartarus!”

He threw up a middle finger. “Tell me something I don’t know!”

-

Once Nico was out of the building, he just started walking, not really caring where he went. Somehow, he ended up running into Leo Valdez outside the engineer building at New Rome University. 

“Neeks!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Nico had to take a moment to process being near so much energy with so little good mood left. “Me and Will are visiting New Rome for the week. What are you doing here?”

His eyes lit up. “I’m helping Jason and Annabeth with the minor gods temple project.”

Nico cocked his head. “But Annabeth’s in class and Jason’s at Percy’s?”

“I know, I was just checking out the engineering building.” He got a guarded look on his face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might be in there a lot next year.”

Nico’s eyebrows flew up. “You’re thinking about going to NRU?” That was a surprise. He’d thought Leo was permanently camped out in Indiana with Calypso at the Waystation. 

Leo put his index finger against his mouth. “Calypso and I broke up.”

Nico blinked at him. “What?”

He nodded, brown curls tipping forward into his face, and Nico noticed that he didn’t look too upset. The breakup was either amicable, or it happened a while ago. “Yeah, she needed some time to be by herself without being tied to anyone.”

“And you?”

He smiled. “Let’s just say, there’s someone here I have my eye on.” He shook his head. “Enough about that. What’s got you all huffy?”

Nico wrinkled his nose at the description, though he knew from Will that it was probably dead-on. “I’m mad at Percy.”

Leo laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Nico glared at him. 

“What was it this time?” Apparently Leo had a better grasp of their relationship than Jason did. 

Nico hesitated to answer since he was sure Leo would be on the same side as Jason and Percy. “He doesn’t want me to go to Tartarus.” He felt his face redden. 

Leo huffed a laugh. “Seriously, what is it?” When Nico stared at him, his eyes widened. “You’re not joking.”

Before the self-righteous lecture he knew was coming could start, Nico opened his mouth to defend himself. “I just want to see if Iapetus is still there and if I can bring him back.”

Surprisingly, Leo licked his lips, considering. “Ookay, so you wanna go back to hell?” His head bobbed. “That’s…cool.”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, and it’s not like this time would be as bad as last time. Now, I know what to expect, so I’ll be prepared.”

“That’s certainly one way to look at it.” Leo’s eyebrow furrowed, and Nico knew he had lost him. “But - and hear me out - maybe Tartarus isn’t something you can prepare for?”

“That’s what Will said,” Nico grumbled. When he had told his boyfriend about his idea, he’d barely gotten the words ‘Tartarus’ and ‘I wanna go’ out before Will was shutting him down. 

Leo thrust out his hands, palms up. “You should listen to him!” Nico rolled his eyes, but Leo continued. “What exactly did you say to Percy to make him so mad?”

Nico blushed and muttered something vaguely adjacent to the words he had thrown at the son of Poseidon, and Leo said, “What?”

Nico glared at him. “I told him I wanted to fix his mess.”

Leo stumbled. “Yeah, I can definitely see why he would take offense to that.”

Nico threw up his hands. “You’re no help.”

-

Pretty soon, Leo had to go meet Annabeth and Jason to talk about building plans, so Nico followed the smell of hot chocolate after his stomach started grumbling, thinking he could at least make Will happy by eating lunch. 

He soon realized that was a mistake, however, as the second he stepped into the cafe, he was met with an outlandish leopard print shirt attached to a tan, middle aged man. “Lord Dionysus? What are you doing in New Rome?”

Immediately, the god shushed him and pushed him into a booth, panic written in the lines on his face. Eyes darting around the room, he visibly relaxed when it seemed no one was looking at them. “You’re going to get me recognized, boy.” He took a slurp from the drink in his hand, an aggressively pink thing with ice cubes floating in it. “Call me Dio if you must call me anything.”

Too confused to disagree, Nico nodded. “How are you here?”

Dionysus slurped his drink again. “The drinks here are to die for.” He waved his hand, and an identical cup appeared in front of Nico. When he hesitated, Dionysus raised an eyebrow. “Drink.”

Nico peered down at the flimsy paper straw and cautiously took a sip. It wasn’t half bad. He took another sip. “So, what, they don’t have coffee shops on Olympus?”

Dionysus wrinkled his nose. “Those dastardly shops only serve all organic ambrosia now that Iris has taken over.” The god drank some more of his beverage, and Nico had to bite back a laugh at how ridiculous the divine man looked sipping bright pink liquid from a paper straw. 

Nico tried again. “I thought you couldn’t be in your Greek form here without going insane.”

“You forget, boy, that I am the god of insanity,” Dionysus answered. “And some things are worth the risk. Like Mango dragon fruit.” He took a loud slurp. 

Nico supposed that made sense, though he vividly remembered Jason describing Dionysus and Bacchus being one of the split gods during the war that had trouble retaining either form. And the drink wasn’t that good. 

“I also heard that fight you just had with Poseidon’s boy, and I must say, I agree with him.”

The drink suddenly turned to ash in his mouth. He coughed, then winced, knowing his next words could get him turned into a dolphin but knowing he couldn’t stop them. “Why do you care?” 

Fortunately, Dionysus didn’t seem to be too preoccupied with Nico’s disrespectful behavior. He appeared to think for a moment, though, knowing Dionysus, he could have just been warding off brain freeze. (Did gods get brain freeze? He’d have to ask Apollo next time he visited Camp.) “Contrary to what I have said before, and, honestly, how I felt for much of the last century, I have come to care for you unruly children I was regrettably placed in charge of.”

“I certainly feel cared for.”

“Good.” 

Nico shook his head. “I still want to go. I have to know if Iapetus is alive.”

“A noble quest.” Finally reaching the end of his drink, Dionysus looked to the side, an odd expression on his face. “Are you sure it will be worth it?”

To stop feeling the guilt eating away at him, to stop the nightmares that still plagued him? “Yes.”

Dionysus leaned forward. “I’ll be sure to tell your boyfriend that when he’s standing over your corpse.”

Nico refused to listen to any more. He knew what he needed, and he knew if he didn’t go, he would never find closure, and he also knew from experience that that was no way to live. “We’re done here.” 

Grabbing his drink, he stood to leave, but Dionysus seemingly had one more thing to tell him. “Careful, boy. One day, you’ll need my help, and I might not be feeling so generous.”

He could unpack that later. For now, he walked right out the door, leaving Dionysus sipping a new drink, this one purple, and staring after him. 

Nico walked until he found an alley and ducked into it to catch his breath, just then noticing the droplets of rain dotting his bare arms. Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder, and the drizzle turned into a deluge, soaking him instantly. He looked up at the sky. “Fuck you!”

It only rained harder. 

-

Across New Rome in the Camp Jupiter dining area, Will Solace was having a lovely conversation with fifth cohort Centurion Hazel Levesque. 

“So,” she was saying, “what did you think of the infirmary?” Now that she had seen Camp Half-Blood and gotten a chance to really explore it, Hazel had confessed to being worried that some of their facilities weren’t up to standard, though one look at the infirmary had Will assuring her that her worries were unfounded. 

“It was great. I really loved the organization you have going on in there,” he said. Privately, he added that it was far better than he expected. For some reason, when he thought of the Camp Jupiter infirmary, he had been worried it would be reminiscent of a medical tent like the ones they had brought with them during the Giant War, but thankfully, they had a real building as well. 

All of a sudden, his phone buzzed, and he smiled sheepishly at Hazel. “Sorry, it’s from Nico.” He quickly scanned the message. “He’s upset with Percy and Jason.” 

Hazel frowned. “Why?” 

Still looking at his phone, Will said, “He didn’t say.” Then, he looked up but almost immediately looked back down when his phone buzzed again. “He’s also upset with Leo.” There was another buzz. “And Dionysus.” It buzzed a final time. “And Zeus.”

Hazel laughed, and Will laughed with her. “Of course he is.”

[bridgyrose]

AU Where Salem is Ruby's adopted Grandma.

(Decided to do a different kind of au for this one.)

Salem stared at the illusion that Emerald had created for her as per what Tyrian had described, her heart starting to ache as she looked at Ruby. This was the first time in years she had laid her eyes on her granddaughter, adopted granddaughter, and part of her couldnt be more proud. Ruby had looked much like her mother did when they first met, so eager to find someone to belong to, to find a place to belong. It was a shame that Summer never did bring her daughter around, but now that she had seen her granddaughter, she was eager to bring her home. “Bring her to me alive.” 

“What?!” Cinder asked angrily, her voice still hoarse from her recovery. “She nearly killed me! We cant let her-” 

“And she is my granddaughter.” Salem stood up and walked over to Cinder, gently putting a hand under her chin. “You are not allowed to touch her, do you understand?” 

Cinder growled and pulled away. “Fine.” 

Salem reached out to the illusion she saw, watching it fade as her mind started to see through it for what it really was. A smile curled on her lips as she motioned for a seer grimm to come to her. All it took was a tap on the grimm and a small bit of magic to run through it to show Hazel on the other side. “I have a new mission for you.” 

Hazel dropped the huntsman that was in his grip, watching him go limp on the ground. “And what is that, my queen?” 

“I need you to find Ruby Rose. She got into Cinder’s way just outside of Vale. I want her brought to me alive.” 

“And why not use Summer for this?” 

“Summer has refused to bring Ruby around for years. I need this done without her finding out. You can handle that, cant you?” 

Hazel gave a quiet nod. “As you wish.” 

Salem smiled as the seer grimm’s image faded, motioning for it to go away. After all of these years, she would finally have her granddaughter by her side, along with her mother. Finally able to keep Summer on a leash and out of trouble. 

“And what if she defeats Hazel?” Emerald asked quietly. “Maybe we should have Cinder-” 

“Cinder will stay here and report to Watts to help with recovery.” Salem sat down, eyeing Tyrian. “Tyrian, I’d like for you to go with Hazel to find her and bring her back. You can toy with her, but do not kill her.” 

“Of course, my goddess,” Tyrian said with a bow, the mechanical tip of his tail gently running across the fabric of Salem’s dress. “I’ll make sure she’s still alive when we bring her to you.” 

Salem waited for everyone to leave her before recreating the image that Emerald allowed her to see, smiling softly as an image of Ruby stood before her on one of her glyphs. She ran her fingers through the braided hair before putting a gentle hand on her cheek. “You’ll be mine soon enough.” 

Days passed before Ruby was brought before her, unconscious and dying from Tyrian’s poison. Salem frowned as she put a finger to the stinger wound, looking at the tainted blood. Without hesitation, she created a few glyphs under Tyrian, eyes staying on her granddaughter. “I told you I wanted her alive.” 

“S-she is!” Tyrian pleaded as he was dragged to the ground. “Let the good Doctor Watts take a look at her! He has the antidote!” 

Hazel took a step back, his voice starting to falter as he looked between Tyrian and Salem. “We… we didnt have a choice. She was going to keep fighting unless we could take her down.” 

Salem let out a heavy sigh and dropped the glyphs beneath Tyrian, releasing him. She ran a hand through Ruby’s hair, tracing her cheeks as she listened to the girl breath heavily. “Take her to Watts and make sure she’s alive.” 

“O-of course, my goddess!” Tyrian said, scrambling to get up and take Ruby to Watts. “Right away!” 

Salem shook her head and started to walk off. “Make sure she’s brought to the room I have prepared for her.” 

“I will,” Hazel said. 

Salem quietly nodded at his answer and made her way through the stone hallway and to a small room that she had fitted to be a bedroom. It wasnt as large as she had hoped, but she trusted Cinder’s judgments with making sure a bed was prepared for Ruby, along with a few changes of clothes, a new cloak, books, and a bouquet of roses. She slowly sat down on the bed, feeling the blankets that rest on top of it, hearing the sounds of her daughters giggling. It was almost as if they were back with her, the sound of their laughter echoing through the halls as the sounds of their footsteps clattering on the stone floor brought a comfort to her heart that she hadnt felt in a long time. 

She took a deep breath and smiled as she looked around the room, happy with what Cinder had done. Everything was perfect, exactly where it needed to be. And soon, she’d be able to talk to her adopted granddaughter without interruption, and finally would have the leash she needed to keep Summer under control and Ozma out of her life for good.

[somewhereincairparavel]

Jason knew. He knew, the moment Caligula's spear had passed through his course of vision. He knew that he was finally going let go. As the spear pierced through his body, Jason couldn't have been happier, it was all over. He was covered in a bed of fresh leaking blood, the life slowly ebbing out of him as his veins pulsated. He would never have to continue living his horrible life anymore. He could finally rest. Jason had nothing to hold on to anymore, his anchor had dropped finally losing its purpose. His best friend Leo was some place else Jason didn't know of, his good friend Reyna had stopped talking to him, the girl of his dreams had decided that he wasn't the one. What more was there to live for? Even as he heard the screams of Piper and Apollo, Jason did not fight the urge to die. His blue eyes were fixed on the sky, the same sky that he had come from. He knew his friends needed him, he knew they would all be devastated to lose him. yet this one time, he didn't think of them. he didn't hold it all together like he had done his whole life, he was selfless since the moment he arrived at the wolf house at the ripe age of two, always wanting to please others, never refusing to help anyone, yet, in his last breath, Jason Grace was finally selfish enough to think of himself, he didn't want to live his life for others anymore, he wanted to put his sword down finally and plunge into eternal peace. And that's what he did. Jason Grace's eyes fluttered shut. He even had the urge to smile, a genuine smile of relief. Jason Grace was finally going to eternal slumber, the soothing thoughts of reaching elysium had made the pain in Jason's body evaporate, and there was no coming back, yet the son of Jupiter was feeling the happiest he's ever felt.

[peakyfag]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅

ㅤㅤ𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐀𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

I truly have nothing else to do, and these two have been living in my head rent-free for the past few days. warnings: period-typical homophobia, a little bit of religious trauma and internalized homophobia.

ㅤ— The two met during adolescence. The first time they had seen each other was during a rendezvous between Thomas and Jeremiah; Finn was all but shy of twelve, and Isaiah was sixteen, bordering on seventeen. By that point, Finn would not unglue from Isaiah.

— For a long time, Isaiah could not bring himself to view the youngest of the Shelby's as more than a little brother; both due to the age difference between the twain of them, simple five complete years, and due to Finn's personality in itself: he was a sweet boy, indeed. Gentle, naive and soft-spoken.

— And so, he had made a duty out of protecting Finn. It was as though he was a fourth older sibling to Finn, whose vision could not be further from Isaiah's own. No, it truly could not be further, no doubt.

— At first, it was nothing more than a little, innocent crush of youth. A crush of which Finn cultivated ever since he saw the preacher's son—and one he long fought and fought to forget and to keep at bay. Really, at such a tender age, he was a good, catholic boy, raised on the very end-of-the-world that was Birmingham, at the time (even if it was mere 100 miles away from London).

— It would have been easier, he thought, should he have been in London. That was the portrait of whom, at the ripe age of thirteen, he had came to be: a paltry youngster, a boyish scant of Birmingham, always protected by his family and his brothers, the fucking Peaky Blinders—as they called themselves, seemingly taking all delight on it, and as others called them as well. When the sun shone, he rolled his eyes at such nonsense; yet, as dawn fell by the sky, he craved to be one of them.

— At last, he was a Shelby by birth. The only thing he carried of his family was the surname, but not their blood. He should have honoured the name which he was given. Indeed, he should have—at last, however, time did not wait for the honour of one, for it had a duty of its own, and such was to pass. Finn, despite himself and whatever reveries his juvenile and chimerical mind created, grew. He grew not into a sword, nor into a blade, but in a callow boy—against all odds he bet.

— Time was the hound of the mightiest jaw, and for that, it possessed metallic hands. As the claws of the clock got to him, he tried with all the might in himself to be involved with whoever was the poor girl that would have him, and hand to him a press of lips or two; a thorn of affection and a rose of wanting. Even then, there had been something wrong. Whatever was that thing, it wandered, walked by his entrails as does a spider. There was a certain element, a certain discomfort which overcame him as delicate, feminine hands (agreeable to all, but to him) enveloped his neck, in the manners of chains.

— Then, the excuses would come to him: the hour was bad, he said, none time did he had. By most, the girls could barely last a week—with luck, they could last for one and a half!—and he, in the circumstances of his birth, learned to saunter only through the shadows. Never would his steps reacb luminescence. But Birmingham perceived his ways, and, once more, he walked by obscurity, as though he was an aloof mouse. Still, he always remained by the side of Isaiah.

— With observant eyes, Isaiah watched as nature sowed Finn. The more he was sowed, the more Isaiah’s eyes dawned upon him, delineating every detail and feature they could soak in. At eighteen, Finn had been transformed into a certainly alluring little thing: he was a beauty, a man of pale skin, with and inviting and longish neck, reddish and well-contourned lips. And his eyelashes; they lingered through all, as did his eyes themselves, and were as long and flattering as the incarnation of grace.

— At nineteen, only one year later, he was a youth much mismatched to that of the rest of his own kin: with a slender silhouette and a frame sculpted and chiselled by the art of all thar was exquisite and flimsy, he had longish legs and fine hands. There was a hidden adroitness in the bounds of his body, a contained charm which contaminated everything he could do. Most said he was quite alike to his late mother, when the woman was the same age as him.

— He had not met Mrs.Shelby, but if she was as alike to Finn as said the bad tongues, then she was a woman of great beauty, indeed. Dwelling on these thoughts almost gave him the desire to have met her before God took her. And in the fullness of time, when the age of twenty came to him, Finn turned into a true and heartful, lovely youth; so beautiful. In all honesty, really. The mere way in which his lips enveloped the cigarette did more than enough to force Isaiah to look the other way.

— By great irony of creation, it seemed that Finn had been transformed into a grandiose portrait of his kismet; the rest of his life waltzed in him. Observing and observing, a particular notion about the youngster came to him, one of which he had never lingered upon: Finn was never quite there. Not quite here and not quite there, as though he was a zephyr, a phantom-like creature, always sauntering in the eyes of all but never truly appearing in light, only obscurity. He was as hidden as the agrestic. This notion, it seemed, solely served for them to be further close.

— But as aware of Finn as he turned to be, he took no act. He had met the boy when he was all but a child, a scarce little lad, and had watched as every moment of the world dawned upon him. He had been certain that he was nothing more than a fourth brother to Finn, as if three were not yet enough—Finn nurtured a meagre fraternal affection for him, no other could do. As it was, he had been by his side since he was a wight of twelve. The naviety and gentleness of that age seemed to have been lost in him, however.

— There had been a particular night, though: in a dark alleyway away from the Garrison, when the hour was gloomy and when the shades of evening had already stabilished rule through the city's aurora. There had always been an individual easiness between him and the other, where words were not made necessary, for the sky spoke for them. Between both, silence was as euphonic as the melody of a church's chore and, for all, it was easier to be with Finn when all was quiet.

— Whilst a caramel candy was the sole thing to dance around Isaiah's mouth, a cigarette, lightened by Isaiah himself, laid between Finn's lips. It was an sardonic image, yes, wrote out in even more sardonic stanzas. A definitive gleam shone through Finn's eyes when the lighter came to his mouth: a fiery glow, a haunting and golden luminescence in those hazel eyes. The flickering of the flame delineated all of the freckles in Finn's fair, lovely features. It was a derisive acerbity, that his flesh was so ivory in tone.

— He should not smoke, Isaiah remarked, and yet a venom remained in Finn's veins, even if it was as fine as a rabbit's hair. He was still a Shelby, no less—and venom was nothing if not inherited by the family's blood. And Finn, sweet, pretty Finn inherited the verses of his kin's serpent as well. He was gracious and sly, quiet and wily. Truly, he possessed the potential to be cunning. Even so, as the cigarette went out and Finn brought another one to hover between his red lips, Isaiah, in repeated motions, held out the lighter to set it aflame, but then—then, the mere look the other shot him was enough for him to abandon the object in his pockets, take Finn by the jaw and kiss him.

— The flavour of that caramel candy, which Finn had long observed by Isaiah's lips, shred its paths through his mouth, as he was certain that the taste of tobacco did by Isaiah's own. Hands, once in his jaw, wandered until one of them held his waist and the other held his hip. His own slender arms came to circle around Isaiah's neck, and his body was firmly pressed to the other's—with a tint or two of something he could not name, albeit as heavy as concrete, he saw that he ought to stand on tiptoe to equalize both heights. A glint shone by Isaiah's eyes; it was hunger that he saw in the man's pupils. And God, did he not kiss well?

— In a short and eventual period, encounters such as that turned into a trite remark for both. Way too trite, if the opinion of logic should be considered. All the rendezvous were always at dawn, where no eyes could pry and no soul would wander around, always strategically distant from any point where one could recognize the both of the two. They hid and hid as though they were rats in a a cathedral, distant from the sacred, hidden of the punishments for one's existant in itself. A man had once said, "my existence is a scandal".

— Where moonlight slips, an euology for a certain image is kept. And did the both had quite the visage to keep, Finn reckoned. Yes, they did—as sure as the sun rises day after day, and the crows keep on creaking dawn after dawn. One cannot be thought as blind, for when the eyes close, one can be merely blinking.

— Every suspicion was to be kept at bay, like a prisioner in gelid bars. If one did so much as dream that such encounters had been happening, when the only element to be seen was dawn—oh, heavens. The mere thought of it send a cold trail down his spine; he wore his fear as though it was a perfume of cruel aroma. Yes, they should be discreet—proper, even. The vision of Finn, with agitated eyes and agony in his every motion, looking to one side and then the other in disturbed attempts to find anyone in sight, turned into an usuality. An eventuality, perhaps.

— Isaiah was lying through his very teeth when he told him to calm himself, that both could not be seen; he knew that much. The other cultivated the same preoccupations as him, he was certain. His arrogance had never quite left him, no. In fact, one could say his gentleness and naviety had long been traded by that deep arrogance. Therefore, he dearly held the belief that Isaiah could not hide anything from him—so dearly he held it, so navietly. But when they were discovered (should they ever be, that is) his particular surname would not take him nor Isaiah out of the gallows.

— At night, one could say that his prayers only held one thing: that his neck broke when the rope was tightened, and that Polly was not there to witness. Cowards are sculpted by the laws of their era. For some time, a press of lips in the neck and a hand here and there sufficed for both him and Isaiah; and one may take notice that Finn could never be accustomed with anything for long. All he possessed, alongside his affections, was fear. Fear of discoverence, of whatever Thomas would do once those meetings came to his knowledge, of whatever Isaiah himself would do as the secret (for that was what it all was: a secret to be taken to the grave, where sentimentality lay the most) was told.

— Grandiose were the terrors to roam within the bounds of his bones. The sweet and tender have no enemy but time, that is certain; but in the dance of the clock, the roaring dread will either die in fire and powder or consume, as all greatness does. As it seemed, it just consumed, its teeth and claws as sharp as the verses of the Devil, devouring in motions most ardent. For all things sacred, he had tried to take no shame in whatever creature he was (for he was not human, not at all. He could never be; humans were not quite like him) and he had tried to murder his fear. Still, it took vengeance as its, and it repayed. To murder one's terrors, is to murder one's self.

— Finn was young, was he not? Younger than Isaiah, certainly.

— In a golden carriage, it came: the moment where Isaiah decided to confront Finn about it all. The distancing with no past clues to be seen, the very way Finn pretended not to know him when he was up to it, even if he kissed him so hard it could bruise when none were watching. And Finn—he had always had quite a temper, had he not? Yes, he had, and by himself, Isaiah should have realized that such was behind the motives of him avoiding confrontation. Firstly, Finn had the shame to deny that any terror could have ever crept upon him, and then, he all but kept the same speech: that both ought to keep appearances.

— Now, fuck off. It was not as if Isaiah was asking Finn to marry him. All he wanted was a simple little thing: constancy. Perhaps honesty, even.

— He could not tell he did not understand how Finn felt. He was a preacher's son, and as alike to Finn as he could be, he was raised as a catholic lamb; he appeared on every mass, he confessed every blasphemy which could ever come to dwell on his thoughts, and with prying ears, one could hear his prayers before bed. All in all, he purged every sin of his skin, and spent childhood and adolescent living in such a way.

— And there was a certain evening when he supposed he could not live like that, and acceptance came to him. As was evident, Finn still did not possess such understanding, and Isaiah could not be the one to guide him down a path he once followed. It would be, above all else, painful, and albeit he held the want to shepherd Finn, he could not stand to hold the hand of a mirror of whom he once was.

— In eventuality, both parted their destinies. The decision was agreed, and Finn did not have the opportunity to refuse.

This one got quite angsty, and much longer than what I expected. I still have more, though.

[autistic-katara]

writing would fix me

[korinthiakos]

Me watching more Saiyuki: Is this the episode where they use this person's bad cooking to defend themselves from demons? Also me: Oh fuck it's not--

[hazellvsq]

i'm doing a rewrite where hazel and nico are the ones who get camp-swapped and given amnesia. it's a very self-indulgent au bc neither of them are attached enough to their respective camps for this to serve the larger story but i DO like giving them amnesia. bc out of all the characters i think these two would actually be much happier and healthier without their memories. like they would be upset about having amnesia but otherwise be chillin. which makes it more fun when they DO remember what happened to them. like:

with amnesia: aw man this sucks

with memories: AHHHH GO BACK