#nico cannot catch a break

[asolareclipses]

(Previous part)

The room full of eyes burned into to him, and Nico imagined this is what ants felt like under a magnifying glass. Everyone looked at him expectantly, as if he knew everything about darkness. Something’s dark? Yeah just ask Nico he’ll definitely know. That didn’t really bother him though, because he didn’t blame them. If someone were to mention storms he’d look at Jason, probably. What bothered Nico was the fear that lay behind some of their eyes, a traitor was in camp, one hiding in darkness. It was only human to be suspicious.

“…I’m not sure what it is.” Nico said, it was a half truth. He had a hollow feeling that he knew who was behind this chaos, but it was a feeling he wanted to ignore for as long as he could. But the spirits he spoke to that morning had only confirmed his deepest worries.

“Well someone wanted you dead,” Dana said, “unless..”

“Unless?” If eyes could shoot daggers, Wills eyes would be shooting swords.

“Im not insinuating anything, but my mother’s Athena so I was taught to see the bigger picture.” She seemed hesitant as she spoke, “It would be a genius plan.”

Nico’s heart stopped. He felt like his did all those years ago as he watched, behind a dream, his friends debate whether he was worth saving. As accusation of trust which had destroyed him, despite him never speaking of it. He’d hadn’t even told Will, keeping that memory locked away as it slowly ate away at his sanity.

“You can’t be serious,” Will stood up. His voice was cold and harsh as ice, as his fists clenched in a sense of rage.

“No,” Nico stood up, he put his hand on Wills arm. Will had always fought tooth and nail for him, Nico wished he didn’t have to. Every time Wills gentle demeanor turned to that of anger, it made Nico feel an all consuming sense of shame; if only he could be more simple, more easy to handle. “It’s fine, if that’s what you think.” He tried to keep his voice steady, each breath he took brought him back to that table, that ship, that jar.

The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air felt too stale, he felt trapped again.

Will turned to him, his brows knit in utter concern, “Are you okay?”

His words felt muffled beneath the ringing in Nico’s ears, “Y-yeah..I just need a moment.” He didn’t want to, but his body took over as he rushed out of the front door. A second longer in that room had been unimaginable.

As his shoes hit the grass, it withered. He cursed under his breath as he tried to steady his hands.

“You’re not in that stupid jar, pull yourself together,” He muttered leaning against the wall along the side of the big house. Whatever breathing exercises Mr D. had taught him dissipated with his panic. He knew how stupid it was, running away as soon as someone accused him. That was probably the most suspicious thing that someone could do. ‘Oh are you the murderer’ ‘No, bye!’

Still, his stomach felt like as if it had been tied into several knots, corroding him from the inside out with painful moments from the past. He felt like he was there again, watching the two people he was closest to now, debating his life. Nico had never blamed them, he’d never hated them. It was never them who hurt him, it was himself. He hated himself.

Nico would’ve stayed there, drowning in his thoughts forever, if it weren’t for the sudden sounds of clashing that echoed through the camp. It sounded as if something was skittering across the ground, followed by metal scraping against rock. His hand instinctually went to where his sword would be, but unfortunately he’d left it in his cabin. Despite that he still headed towards the strange sound, attempting to be as silent as possible.

When he peeked around the corner he saw Mae, a new camper who had shown up with her younger brother Sam a week ago. They had been claimed as children of Hecate the night they showed up. The two of them reminded Nico of when he and Bianca first came to camp, he couldn’t decide if that was more painful or comforting. Unfortunately the sound wasn’t just Mae sword practicing, as a large shadowy creature stood infront of her. It was similar to a scorpion, but its form flowed with a wobbly consistency.

Mae stood there, sword in hand as she faced the creature. Her hands shook as she trembled in terror, Sam was hiding behind her. Nico could almost picture himself, that day at Westover, cowering behind Bianca as their Vice Principal turned into a monster.

The scorpion thing moved forward to strike and Nico rushed to intercept, it was incredibly stupid as he didn’t have a weapon, but still he charged ahead. Just as it thrust its claw towards Mae, Nico willed all the shadows it was made from against it. The darkness seemed to fight him, barely remaining under his control.

He bided enough time to grab the sister and brother, pushing them out of the way. “Mae, take Sam and run to the big house.” Nico said as he took the sword from her hand. His words were rushed as he could feel the scorpion regaining its control behind him.

“But I can help!” Mae’s eyes were filled with the same bravery Bianca’s had once shown.

“You don’t have to be a hero just yet okay? Just make sure Sam is safe for now,” He didn’t allow Mae to protest and she agreed, grabbing her brother by the arm and running off towards the big house.

Nico almost breathed a sigh of relief until he turned and was face to face (or what he presumed to be its face) with the creature. Up close, its shadows swirled and shifted like each was breathing on its own. Its claw lifted and swung at him, and Nico lifted his sword in an attempt to block the attack, but the sword passed through the creature like it was made of air. The claw kept going unbothered and Nico barely managed to move in time to not get chopped in half, unfortunately the sharp spikes along the claws managed to slice into his arm.

Nico reminded himself to never leave his cabin without his sword again as his arm began to drip with blood.

“What is that?!” The counselors from the big house had all began rushing out towards Nico, along with them, more campers rushed over too.

The scorpion turned towards the others, its void-like claws snapping. Nico knew there was nothing their swords could do to kill it; so in a last ditch effort he slammed his foot against the ground, a large crack spreading and swallowing the creature whole. A second later the crack sealed up, leaving a barren scar along the grass. The satyrs were going to hate him for that.

“Oh my Gods Nico what was that?” Leo had rushed forwards with Jason and Will.

“I don’t know,” Nico said through heavy breaths, the pain from the creatures claws was overpowering as it seemed to seep throughout his whole body.

“Your arm,” Wills face was pale as he gaped at the wound.

“How did that thing get into camp?” Connor asked as he stared at the large gash along the dirt.

“It shouldn’t have been able to get through the boundaries,” Chiara said.

Suddenly a lot of suspicious eyes were on Nico, again.

Will seemed to notice as he snapped towards the small group of campers gathered around them, “You can’t be serious!”

“Will we’re not saying anything it’s just…” Dana seemed reluctant to continue.

“Who else could conjure up something like that?” An Ares camper called out, Sherman quickly turned glaring towards the person who’d spoken.

“Give me one good reason why Nico would do that!” Jason yelled, and as he did the air seemed to turn electric.

The campers went silent, they all seemed to have a thought on their mind yet no one spoke it aloud.

“I get it..” Nico said cutting through the silence, his voice like a knife. “I’ll figure this out myself.”

He stepped backwards into the shadow behind him, the last thing he saw was Will eyes widening as he called out, “Wait Nico!”

Nico didn’t wait, he disappeared into the shadows, but not before Leo could manage to latch onto his arm, following him into the shadows.

As the world faded to black he heard a sharp sickeningly familiar voice in his head, Strike one little demigod.

—

Leo wasn’t sure if following Nico was incredibly smart or incredibly stupid, but with his track record it was probably the latter. His body had reacted before he’d thought about his decision though, and he was quickly pulled into the shadows. As he entered the darkness he was hit by a sense of cold from every direction, it was as if he were surrounded by nothing. He’d forgotten what shadow travel felt like, and he’d forgotten how much it sucked.

He was never more glad to see the sun when they stumbled out of the dark. They were in some park, with a vast assortment of trees spread throughout the grass. The air was warm and fresh, providing a comforting breeze as the sun shined above them.

“Valdez i’m going to-“ Nico began to say something in his usual angry tone before he doubled over onto the ground. The grass around him withered and black smoke seemed to trail off of him.

“Nico are you-“

“Shut up.” Nico cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth. Leo felt guilty, just standing there, but after a moment Nico managed to steady himself.

“Dude are you okay?” Leo asked, unable to convey the pure amount of worry he felt.

“It’s fine.” Nico took a shaky breath, struggling to stand.

Leo wanted to reach out and help him, but he had a feeling it would not of been appreciated. “That didn’t look fine.”

Nico eyes snapped towards him, “Why did you follow me?”

“Because I wasn’t going to let you run away all on your own like an idiot?”

“Who said I was running away?” Nico looked at Leo like he was stupid.

“Huh?”

Nico sighed, wiping the dirt off his hands, “I was going to try and find what’s been causing all of this. If I can find it and stop it then this whole mess will be over.”

Leo gaped at him for a moment, he felt a rush of sadness and then anger, “You thought you could just go out all on your own? By yourself?”

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, this is my mess.”

“First of all,” Leo felt himself heating up, literally as the tips of his hair began to smoke. “You can’t just try and solve everything on your own like that, you could get hurt, or maybe worse..secondly, how is this your mess?”

Nico paused, a hesitant look passed over his face. “Because I think I know who’s doing this.” He paused before speaking again as Leo waited for him to continue, “Nyx.”

“Nyx as in Night? Why would Night be specifically attacking you?”

“I guess I hurt her pride back in tartarus,” Nico said. Leo thought about how casually he’d said that, like that fact he’d been there twice was no big deal. “Or..”

“Or?” Leo couldn’t imagine how it could get worse.

“She’s trying to rise. I mean after Gaea rising and the Giants attacking, there must of been a lot of time for her to gather her power. She’s a goddess after all, she might be trying to rise like Kronos did.”

“Great, that’s amazing.” Leo sighed, there it went, getting worse. Unsurprisingly, they couldn’t go more than a year without something very bad happening. “So she’s coming after you first, for what, a grudge?”

“That..or it’s because i’m the only one who can really stop her, if she gets rid of me first she has a better chance of taking down camp.”

“So you go out to try and face her, on your own?” Leo felt his patience running thin, “Isn’t that exactly what she’d want?”

“I wanted to stop her, before she could hurt anyone else.” Nico looked down, he wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes anymore, his focus now on the withered grass.

Leo felt a tinge of guilt as his anger dissipated, “You don’t have to do everything by yourself you know that? This Nyx lady, she loves darkness?” Leo’s hands sparked into flames, “Then i’ll show her some real light.”

A hint of a smile creeped onto Nico’s face, “I’m not convincing you to let me do this on my own am I?”

“Nope!” Leo’s flames turned to smoke as he reached into his tool belt, pulling out some bandages. “Now let’s get you all fixed up before we put ourselves in any further danger.”

Nico rolled his eyes, looking at the deep gashes along his arm. Something about the cuts was abnormal, yet Leo couldn’t figure it out. It was yet another moment where he realized that he could fix any machine, but when it came to humans he was seriously lacking. Again, he wished he was a doctor like Will or something, magic healing powers would be great right about now. Even ambrosia would’ve been nice, but of course the most he could give was papery bandages and some screws and bolts.

He did an extremely poor clean up job on the wound before stopping to ask, “Maine is a pretty big state, where to first?”

A dark shadow seemed to pass over Nico’s face as he met Leo’s eyes, “Westover. Me and Bianca’s last school.”

(Part Four)

[cadillacjohnf1]

Me listening to Nico Hulkenberg's radio after Q2:

[tied-ash]

Me when I mash my two favorite interests together (DRDT x HSH)

Veronika is the person who picks up, btw :3 Also I have some ideas for the other cast members, but I haven't gotten to making their calls yet

Their answers / Fail Calls are below the cut, in case if you wanna guess!

XANDER MATTHEWS | WARLOCK REMNANTS

(Alt. Version w/ Charles):

WHIT YOUNG | NIGHT WISP

TERUKO TAWAKI | COMMON HOBB

NICO HAKOBYAN | KOBOLD

J MORENO | NEIGHBOR'S DOORWAY

AREI NAGEISHI | ANIMATION & DORCHA

Also credit to justyourcommonnobody8415 and willowthywisp on Youtube for their interpretations on the Kobold and Neighbor's Doorway!!

[technofinch]

Ok so the thing about Nico is that she has Terminal youngest sibling syndrome and all she wants in the world is to be Taken Seriously. But she's 24 and running around with a party of dilfs and hypercompetent quasi-divine beings and has to fight for every ounce of credibility and respect (she is losing the fight). AND THEN she gets turned into a vampire and suddenly the clock has once again reset and all of these people just see her as a baby again and she is Not happy about it >:(

[palindrome-mystery]

Okay on the last book of Trials of Apollo

First off, screw you Rick.

Killing Jason, the first real honest to goodness friend Nico made since who knows when, and then in the same book have REYNA JOIN THE HUNT?!

In Heroes of Olympus Nico went into a rage when he found the note that the Hunters had taken Reyna to talk because he didn't want the Hunter's "stealing another important person from him."

This geriactric teenager, after spending years in isolated loneliness, loses the two people who were the first to try to be his friend and help him heal AND HE LOSES BOTH!!

WHEN I FIND YOU RIORDIAN!!

Next on the "I know I'm late to the PJO train"

Still making my way through the Trials of Apollo series and went to order the Sun and the Star.

Made the mistake of reading the synopsis.

The very first line:

...losing his friend Jason during the trials of Apollo...

THE HELL?!

[nekrosdolly]

bₑₐᵤₜy ₛcₕₒₒₗ ₋ ₙ.ₛₚₐᵣdₐ

calling nero girlish leads to a devastating self-discovery. what can you do but help?

a/n; fun fact i've been working on this for two months and three days... also the most down bad thing i've ever written. enjoy!

cw; sub!nero, dom!reader, afab!reader, feminization, a bit of manhandling (reader is written to be on the stronger side), small impact play, spit kink, biting, referring to dicks as clits and assholes as cunts/pussies, nipple play, anal fingering (n! receives), pegging, clothed reader, doggystyle, implied multiple rounds. 5.444k words!

You’ve been staring at Nero for at least half a minute now. He’s not returning your gaze but it’s definitely affecting him, as he’s shifting in his seat across from you quite a bit. The two of you are waiting for Dante, Lady, and Trish to finish gearing up for the mission you’re embarking on- something big, Dante says, but with the lot of you it’d be maybe a few hours max. If the two of you weren’t mutually interested in one another both in friendship and in a more-than-friends way, the staring would’ve bothered him. 

“You know,” you lean forward in the uncomfortable chair bolted to the ground across from the ratty couch Nero’s manspreading on, “you have kind of girlish lips.”

Nero furrows his eyebrows, his eyes finally meeting yours. Something clicks inside of him that he chooses to ignore despite the blossoming pink tint on his cheeks. Maybe you just have that effect on him, or maybe it’s something else.

“No, I don’t. They’re just lips.” He says as he rubs his cheek, his eyes breaking away from yours.

“Whatever.” You shrug. The rest of the team enters shortly, Nico included, and you’re on your way. 

While you busy yourself with menial conversation amongst the group, Nero cannot get his mind off of what you just said. Girlish lips? He doesn’t have girlish lips, does he? No, not at all. But god, if that doesn’t do something for him… It does. Especially coming from you. You’re not the face of masculinity or femininity by any means, but he likes the fact that you find him a bit girly. A bit of heat stirs in his gut, something brand new, and it’s good. Almost too good to ignore- but he’s on a mission and he needs to focus if he wants to make it out with minimal injuries.

He shakes the thought away (or tries to) when Nico brake-checks everyone and nearly sends everything in the old van flying.

“Here!” She chimes with a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Five hours later.

The mission lasted longer than any of you had anticipated. Five hours of grueling slaughter brought upon by you and your comrades- aside from Nico, who relaxed in her van and watched from the sidelines. Nero’s mind was preoccupied on the way back, replaying the fight in his head to see if he could’ve done something different. You were slumped against Dante, who kept one arm on the back of the couch so you could rest comfortably as he read his porno mag.

He didn’t catch himself thinking about it until he was undressed later that night. He had already removed most of his clothing before he sat on the edge of his bed, only in his boxers. The moment kept replaying, you calling his lips girlish. Something about that felt right. Girlish. Maybe you’d treat him like a girl, too. Thinking about it made his dick twitch and his chest feel warm. His face heats up the way it did in the van as his thoughts run wild. Being told to wear a dress for you, putting on makeup, and making him truly look like a girl- (edits starting now) he groans into his hands, calloused heels of his palm pressing his eyes shut.

“This is so not what I needed right now,” he mumbles, sucking in a breath as he wills his boner away. Embarrassed, he lies down and pulls the covers overtop him. Sleep does not come easy.

The next day.

Within your close knit circle, compliments are sparse. Dante claps people on the back as a “good job,” and maybe Nico will toss them a thumbs up, but that's it. Nero’s used to it- the silent reassurance from everyone- except you. 

“You did really good, Nero,” the two of you are fresh from another mission, sore and covered in muck. The tips of Nero’s ears turn red, though it could be mistaken for the blood of slain demons. Deep down, he knows he did well. He doesn't need reassurance, verbal or otherwise, but it feels nice. The words send a little shiver down his spine.

“Uh, thanks. You too, I guess,” he says, shrugging his blue jacket off to leave by the door. He'll come back later to toss it in the wash. In a stretch, he lifts his arms over his head to hopefully ease the impending ache that'll settle in his muscles within minutes. With his shirt being as short as it is, his midriff is exposed to you for a short second.

Your eyes slightly widen, zeroing in on his waist. How in the world is it so… feminine? Girlish? Cute? Grabbable? He's not even looking as he keeps stretching, oblivious to your wandering, hungry gaze. 

“Dude, I'm jealous. Your waist is like, tiny. You sure you're not a girl under all that?” He knows you're teasing, he really does, but good heavens. It hasn't been a full day since the last incident, you may as well be trying to kill him.

Stormy eyes shoot open in shock and he lowers his arms to his sides nearly immediately. He tugs his shirt down more, as if that would help, and looks away.

“You're so weird, you know that? Do you want me to be a girl or something?” He scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. You chuckle to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

Shrugging, “Maybe I do. You'd be a pretty cute girl, Nero.”

The white-haired man grumbles something as he walks off in the direction of the HQ bathrooms in hopes of a very, very cold shower. It's not his fault that your teasing gets him bricked. Of course, you notice nothing different, given that Nero’s always been quick to fluster.

In the bathroom, he splashes ice cold water on his face and rubs it into his skin. Some dirt and blood washes away with the water, but that wasn't his intention. He'll have to shower when he gets home, as Dante’s shower is conveniently broken, but the last thing he wants to endure is a car ride home with half an erection and plenty of fuel to give him a full one. His blood is roaring in his ears, lewd thoughts invading his head like the plague. Hunched over the sink, his hands grip the ceramic edges like a vice.

You, with a tube of lipstick in hand that is very clearly not your shade but his. You, with a mascara wand in hand telling him to hold still or he'll mess it up. You, handing him a white sundress and equally white lacy panties. You, telling him to put them on and be a good girl- doesn't he want to look pretty?

Nero wants it all. He wants it so bad; to be your doll, your plaything to humiliate and use however you want. But would you? God, he hopes so.

Minutes have gone by. He shuts the sink off and looks in the mirror- still grimy, but not gross. Blood splotches mat his hair in some sections, but at least some stuff on his face is gone. He looks normal aside from the massive blush covering his cheeks, but that could be chalked up to exerting himself.

“Nero?” You knock on the shoddy door to the even shoddier bathroom, “you alright? It's been like ten minutes, man.”

The sound of your voice brings him back to reality- has it really been ten minutes? He looks at himself once again in the dirty mirror, a searing feeling of embarrassment settling in his shoulders. Another splash of cold water to his face before he shuts off the sink and exits. You step back as he does, looking up at him with concern. “Fine, thanks. Just tired. It was a long mission, y’know?” He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes, lest he get even the slightest bit hard. At this point, it’s a problem. Without another word from either of you, he heads upstairs.

Do you find it odd? Yeah, but you don’t say anything. After all, he did say he was tired. He probably just needs to get some rest. Settling on one of the couches in the lobby, you decide that you do, too.

Two days later, Devil May Cry, the Fortuna branch

Nero is glad that he lives so far away from Red Grave City. It’s a few hours’ drive both ways and it’s a pain to put up with Nico’s horrible driving. As much as he complains, he’d rather not be the one driving. The distance also makes it easier for him to not think about you as much. 

Well, that’s only half-true. He thinks about you more than he should. The only thing the distance helps with is avoiding you. Of course, that doesn’t stop his imagination running wild at the randomest of times- including while doing household chores. It’s a gamble- his thoughts range from pure domesticity to borderline porn.

When his thoughts take over this time, he’s doing the dishes. There’s not much, but it’s enough to warrant his attention. One would assume that touching dirty dishes and day-old food would ward off any semblance of lust-driven daydreams, right? Unfortunately, that’s not the case today.

He’s mid-washing a plate, his sleeves rolled up so only his forearm is wet. His metal arm is covered with a dish glove, lest the water screw with the wires and give him a nice, heart-stopping zap. The sponge in his hand is sudsy, lazily scrubbing at the leftover food on the plate as his mind wanders to you. At first, it’s innocent. Cooking together, thinking about what you’d want to eat for dinner after a long mission, or even just a long day in general. How would your lips feel on his cheek, your arms around him as the two of you get ready for bed?

Maybe your hands would slip under his shirt, your eyes meeting his as you rub his waist. Words of filth disguised as sweet nothings to get his blood flowing south, inciting a dizzying shiver down his spine. Your hands slipping into his panties that you picked out for him earlier that day with a smile, telling him that they’d look so pretty on him- that maybe, if he wore them all day while doing errands you’d reward him later on. Your voice in his ear, calling him a good girl, telling him how cute he is all flustered and wet in his panties.

His thoughts fester, the plate slipping from his hands. Only the sound of it clattering against the bottom of the (thankfully) shallow sink rouses him.

Well. That, and the door opening. There are only two people with a key, Nico and-

And you. What a wonderful time to have a hard-on.

“Hey, I tried calling you, but I think your landline’s down,” you say, barging into his kitchen without a care in the world. Nero keeps himself pressed against the kitchen sink for his own dignity’s sake as he looks at you, feigning irritation. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” He scoffs, picking up the plate he’d been washing and giving it a good rinse. “You clearly don’t care whether or not I do, seeing as I have a key,” you grin, crossing your arms as you lean against the archway between the living room and kitchen. Maybe you let your eyes wander a little- a domesticated Nero is a rare sight, one you enjoy very much. He’s got these tight fitting black boxers on that really do his ass justice and baggy a longsleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up that almost gives him this cutesy appearance.

“Yeah, whatever. What did you need?” He moves on to the next dirty dish after placing the clean one on the drying rack. His voice is a bit snippy, and he’s a little tense. The fact that he can feel your eyes on him doesn’t help, and if anything, makes his boxers just that much tighter.

“Dante wants us on a new job he got from this new client. Some guy named V, though I dunno much about him,” you shrug.

“He couldn’t tell me himself?”

“Nah. I don’t think he really likes coming here, anyway. Something about Fortuna gives him the creeps, he said. Probably ‘cause they used to worship his dad ‘nd shit.” Nero scoffs at that and shuts off the sink, flicking his non-prosthetic hand to get the water off, then frees his devil breaker of its rubber confinement. 

“Nice ass, by the way,” you add, smirking at him. Nero turns to face you with his cheeks tinted pink and a soft scowl on his face. Facing you was a mistake because his erection from earlier has not died. You don’t notice it immediately, much to his relief, because he knows you’re not that much of a pervert.

“You’re so weird,” he huffs.

“Not my fault you look like a girl.” You retort. Nero’s cock twitches hard, his already warm face heating up more. He really, really should’ve put on pants this morning.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, the movement, as subtle as it may be, catches your eye through your peripherals. On instinct, your eyes dart towards the source and widen immediately.

“...Are you hard? Did I do that?” You point to yourself. Nero huffs and tugs the hem of his shirt down to cover his now raging erection, the dull throb making it hard for him to come up with any kind of retort.

“Wh- no! I-I mean, yes- I’m hard, but it’s not because of you!” He looks away from you, even as you step closer to him until you’re an arm’s width away. It’s too much too quick, because what can he say to make this all better? Nothing. There’s nothing he can say or do to make this situation go over smoothly. “So… You don’t want me to help out? I mean, it’s pretty obvious you need some, right?” You reach up and grab his jaw, your thumb swiping over his bottom lip. A dry spell hits his mouth, his pupils dilating as he tries to swallow. The poor quarter-devil’s heart races in his chest, that feeling from earlier returning. 

Nero opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to press down on his tongue with your thumb. A sly grin spreads on your lips, knowing you’ve got him dead set on this. Now, he could overpower you at any given point- he’s part devil- but he finds that he doesn’t want to. You lean in closer, your face just a few inches from his.

“You like being called a girl?” Smooth and low, your voice has him in a trance. The hunger in your eyes makes his knees weak, saliva coating your thumb as it remains on his tongue. Hesitantly, he nods.

“Yeah, I thought so,” you mutter, your free hand finding a home on his waist. “You wanna be fucked like a girl too, don’t you?”

Another hesitant nod, his eyelids fluttering from the embarrassment of the entire situation. In truth, he only started experimenting with himself after he and Kyrie broke up. It’s not that Kyrie kept him from experimenting with stuff like that, because they tried plenty when they were in bed, but something about it felt wrong.

With you? It couldn’t feel more right, not as you remove your thumb from his mouth to smear his lips with his own saliva. “Don’t you know how gross that is, Nero?” Your voice holds a teasing lilt that makes his stomach flutter. While he does feel ashamed, he’s way too into this to care. His cock is crying in the confines of his boxers, the fabric tighter than ever. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, meek with humiliation.

“No, you’re not. In fact, I bet you want to be dressed up like some doll, then get railed just like the slut you are.” Nero squeezes his eyes shut. The tips of his ears are red, possibly even some of his chest, too. As humiliating as this is, he likes it a lot. Your words make his knees weak, his tummy’s warm and he may as well be sweating from how hot he is. Again, he nods.

“Please,” he forces himself to look at you, half-lidded eyes and all. “Please, just give me what I want.” A satisfied look crosses your face at the sound of his desperation, his poor excuse for begging.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” your hand slides from his waist to the very prominent bulge, amused at how it kicks against your hand and the way Nero’s breathing picks up.

“But not now. I mean I’ll get you off no problem, but your fantasy needs a few things that aren’t at my disposal, nor are they at yours.”

The disappointed noise that leaves Nero’s mouth is almost uncharacteristic. 

“Uh, yeah. You’re right, I guess.” He grumbles quietly, his eyes downcast like a kicked puppy.

“Think you can wait? I’ll come back, I promise.” He nods reluctantly. He’ll be as patient as he needs to be. With a kiss to his cheek, an unspoken promise you’ll return, you leave him in his kitchen with his boner still very much alive. Embarrassed, defeated, and aroused, he walks to the living room couch and plops down on it. 

Two hours later.

Barging in again, you toss a hefty plastic bag on top of a sleeping Nero, forcing him to wake up from the weight hitting his stomach. “Hey, what the hell?” He glares at you through sleep-addled eyes and sits up on his elbows.

“Look in the bag, sleeping beauty.” You lean against his front door, the metal surface cooling your back. 

Nero does as he’s told, rummaging through the bag’s contents like a curious puppy. The first item he pulls out is a white skirt that’s very, very short. Scarlet engulfs his cheeks within seconds. When you said later, he thought you meant tomorrow, not later today. He continues to pull items from the bag, his blush spreading like wildfire. The next item is a crop top, also white, frilly underwear and an equally cute bra to match, before he finally pulls out what must be the largest light blue dildo he’s ever seen accompanied by a harness.

“Put it on,” you smile, “go make yourself pretty for me. Take this, too.” You toss him your makeup bag, which he catches with the devil breaker.

With a hard swallow, Nero places everything back into the plastic bag and disappears into his bedroom, clutching the bag’s flimsy handles with an iron grip. The moment the door closes, he’s in a rush to take his clothes off. He nearly rips his shirt trying to get it off, same thing with his boxers. He really sucks at being patient.

It feels natural, to a degree, putting everything on. It’s clear you want him to look like an angel or some kind of bride, all white and pure. How ironic. The panties don’t quite cover his cock and the shirt you chose makes his pecs look more akin to boobs, but he looks… cute. If not a little silly, what with all the ruffles, cute. Now, the makeup is what confuses him the most aside from the fastening mechanism of the bra you chose.

He knows what lipstick is. He knows what mascara is, and eyeliner. Kyrie wore those sometimes. But the rest of the stuff is greek to him.

The white-haired man is still staring down at the contents of your makeup bag when you walk in, strap-on fully assembled in one hand. He looks up at you with a shy smile, red cheeks and all. You toss the light blue toy onto his bed as you walk up to him, your gaze nothing short of predatory.

“Hey, pretty girl. Havin’ some trouble?” His dilemma is clear enough, but he nods anyway.

“What color would look good on me?” Pale blues travel to the selection of lipsticks you have, fingers rummaging through the variety of tubes. Perhaps he’s too overwhelmed at the moment. Your warm hand settles on waist, his gaze flickering to your face.

“Why don’t we skip the makeup for now, hm? I’d hate to make you wait any longer, angel.”

Nero’s throat runs dry as he nods, expecting you to be a little gentle with him but oh, how he was wrong. He doesn’t expect you to push him onto his mattress like he was some kind of slut, nor does he expect you to get on top of him as quickly as you do. Your hands are so rough as you grope his chest, a soft whine leaving his lips when you lean down to bite one of his pecs. 

“Cute tits, dolly,” your thumbs rub his clothed nipples and he’s really glad he’s sensitive everywhere right now, otherwise he’d feel kind of stupid. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes again, shy as a virgin during her first time, as he mewls quietly.

“I just can’t believe that you’re into this kind of thing,” you snap his bra strap against his skin, making him flinch, “What a fucking slut…”

“M’not a slut,” he mumbles, cock weeping into the lacy material of his panties as he looks away from you.

“Don’t be dumb,” you grab his jaw and force him too look at you, his pupils blown wide. Fingers card into his hair and give it a soft tug, making him whine again. Everything you do makes his cock harder, his mind fuzzier, and his blush darker. Slotting a knee between his legs, you force his legs to part wider before you press it against his panty-clad hard-on. It’s a cute sight, him gasping and squirming in a pathetic attempt to escape the stimulation.

A sharp slap to his thigh makes him still, a mumbled “sorry” sounding from his lips. You let go of his jaw in favor of slipping under his thighs, guiding them around your waist as you lean down to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, as do yours when your lips meet in a much gentler kiss than he anticipated. That doesn’t last long, because two seconds in and you’re biting his lower lip to make him gasp, allowing you to lick into his mouth without protest. His hips buck at the taste of you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your neck. You pin his hips to the bed, thumbs kneading what little fat he has there.

He’s dizzy when you break the kiss, panting with your spit glossing his lips and your eyes locked to one another’s. Your thumb hooks in the corner of his mouth and pulls down, forcing his mouth open. As if reading your mind, he sticks his tongue out. A thick glob of spit leaves your lips and lands flat on his tongue. He moans, his cock pulsing hard in his jeans. When your thumb unhooks from his mouth, he swallows. “Good girl, angel.” Your voice resembles a low purr in his ear, his body on fire. If you praise him again, he might cum in his panties. He’s entirely sure that his skirt is damp with how much he’s leaking. Your hand slips down, down, down until you’re pushing his shirt up and palming over his erection, making him melt into the mattress. “My pretty girl is so wet,” you hum, thumbing over his weeping slit. He whimpers, his hips bucking hard. This time, you let it slide because he’s too damn cute when he’s under you to care. Using his precum as makeshift lube, you rub his frenulum, watching as his eyes light up with pleasure and his back makes a pretty arch, whining pathetically in the back of his throat. His silver brows pinch, his eyes torn between watching your hand and your face. “Right there, huh, princess?” 

“F-Fuck, yes, th-there,” he nods eagerly, his stomach tensing when you rub that spot faster. His dick twitches and throbs, his shaky breathing accelerating. You don’t let up, no matter how squirmy he gets. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? Who knew that rubbing your clit would get you like this.” Sultry words coming from you, his legs tightening around your waist. “C-Cum, wanna cum,” he mewls out, “pleasepleaseplease.” The rest of his cock feels neglected but he can’t bring himself to care, not when you wrap your hand around the tip and circle your palm on his sensitive head. Especially not when you use your free hand to pull down the neckline of his shirt to lick one of his pebbled nipples. The moment you wrap your lips around it and suck, he cums with the most pathetic noise imaginable. Hot seed sticks to your palm and spills down his softening cock.

“Mm,” you pull off his nipple with a soft pop, “that didn’t take long at all.” The sound of fabric tearing fills the air as you rip the lace material down the side seams.

“Why’d you do that?” Nero props himself up on his elbows, watching as you discard the now-useless lace. You shrug, slipping out from between Nero’s legs to grab the bottle of lubricant you know he has stashed in his nightstand. “Felt like it. What, you never had your panties ripped off before?” The drawer of his side table has too many things in it. Still, you fish out the black bottle of lube and toss it onto the bed beside him. “Obviously not.” You reach for the strap on lying cold and alone. Nero pulls his skirt down to cover himself and closes his legs, though it’s pointless.

“Keep up the attitude, angel. See where it gets you.” 

“...Whatever,” Nero grumbles, a new surge of arousal filling him as he watches you fasten the strapon to your pelvis. It’s a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, but he’ll take what he can get. When you climb onto the bed again, you grab him by the hips and flip him over, his body weight that of a feather in your hands. With one hand, you prop his hips up as the other presses his face down into the mattress.

“Hey!” He yips, looking back at you with feigned annoyance. You roll your eyes as you push his skirt up for the second time tonight and give his ass a sharp slap, making him whine.

“Don’t be a brat. We’re just getting to the good part,” you grab the bottle of lube and uncap it, pouring a hefty amount on your fingers. Anticipation bubbles in Nero’s chest, his hands fisting the sheets. A shudder leaves him upon feeling your fingers coat the rim of his hole, applying gentle pressure just to tease. You push your index finger in slowly, forcing a hiss from his throat. It’s an odd feeling, the intrusion, but one he can get used to.

Besides, he’s seen those videos of cute guys getting pegged and they cum their brains out every time. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of both parties.

His walls slowly adjust as you move your finger in a gentle rhythm, waiting until you hear his breathing grow heavy to add another. A moan gets stuck in his throat, his brows pinched together as his eyes flutter shut. “You alright down there, angel? You’re awfully quiet.” You hum, using your free hand to knead one of his pert cheeks.

“F-Fine- M’fine,” his voice is a little strained and breathy. The pads of your middle and index finger brush against his prostate and his legs twitch, a soft moan leaving him. As subtly as he can (not at all,) he rocks his hips back onto your fingers to get more shocking, dizzying pleasure. Once you decide he’s loose enough, you withdraw your fingers and bring them to your silicon cock, adding a solid drizzle of lube along the shaft. A soft schlick noise sounds when you give the translucent silicon toy a few pumps to ensure it’s sufficiently lubricated.

Before Nero has time to complain, the tip is already pressing against his fluttering entrance. His fists clench in the sheets as you slowly press into him. Pink lips fall open as the stretch does him in, trying his best to stay still for you. “Good girl,” you murmur in his ear, “such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

The white-haired man has never felt so full in his life, nor horny or outright dumb. He whines when you bottom out completely, your nails digging into his hips to keep him from running away.

“W-Why is it so big,” he looks back at you, his own cock dripping pre-cum again. His question is left unanswered as you pull out halfway only to thrust meanly back in. A strangled moan leaves his lips, his back falling into a natural arch. “Tell me, angel,” you keep a slow yet hard pace, each thrust bullying your fake cock impossibly deeper into his greedy hole, “has anyone ever fucked this cute cunt before?”

His brain processes the words but every time he opens his mouth, nothing but noises of pleasure come out. He shakes his head “no,” with a whimper.

“Aww, really? So you’re a virgin? Explains how tight your pussy is.”

Nero hasn’t been a virgin since he was nineteen, but for you, he’ll be anything you want. His volume increases the moment you bully your cock against his prostate, a sweet cry falling from his lips. His body feels hot every time the fat head presses it, his body relaxing into the bed. Lewd slaps and wet noises fill the air alongside his sweet noises of pleasure.

“Fuck m-me,” he gasps, his cock pulsing between his legs as it’s ignored, “y-your cock feels so good i-in my pussy.”

“I know, angel. Your cunt’s squeezing me so tight- if I knew you wanted me this much, I would’ve fucked her sooner.” You reach around to grope his chest, your other hand pulling him back on your faux dick with every thrust. Poor Nero doesn’t know what to do with himself but let you use him, as if you were the one getting pleasure from this. It’s obvious he needs more despite his noises, judging by the way he’s still able to think without interruption. He’s really gone when you accelerate your thrusts and keep the roughness, all but turning into a puddle atop his bedsheets. The coil in his stomach twists and tightens, his orgasm fast approaching.

“Yeah, there we go,” you murmur, your words adding fuel to the fire that is his impending release, “that’s my sweet girl.”

“M’gonna cum,” he whimpers, “I-I wanna- please, i-it hurts,” he reaches between his legs, whining when you slap his hand away. “Why didn’t you say something, pretty girl? I’ve got you, angel, just be a doll and let me take care of you.” Your slick fist wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts and Nero just can’t handle it anymore. His orgasm catches him off guard, thick ropes of cum shooting out of his pink cockhead and onto the sheets below you two with a cry of your name.

You’re kind, so you take your hand away and slow to a stop, panting softly.

“You alright?” Nero takes a second to respond, humming a second later as he catches his breath. His thighs feel weak and shaky. “Good,” you pull out and settle on the bed beside him, your back resting against the wooden headboard. Under the impression that you’re done toying with him, he lets his eyes close. They shoot open when you grab him by the waist and hoist him onto your lap, thick blue dildo pressing against his gaping hole again. “C’mon, little girl- I can’t do all the work around here, y’know.”

The next day.

Dante calls Nero’s landline for what feels like the fifth time in a row.

“Damn, that punk,” he sighs, slamming the telephone down on its receiver. You’re not answering your phone either, but he knows better than to expect you to answer. He’s about to dial Nero’s number for a sixth time when the doors to Devil May Cry open and in walks you alongside a limping Nero. The red devil opens his mouth, but-

“Don’t ask,” Nero groans, making his way over to one of the couches and lying on his stomach. You’re quite proud of your work, even if it’s at Nero’s expense. Dante will find out eventually, and you cannot wait.

divider creds to @benkeibear!!

[lvrhughes]

Can't Sleep Without You | N. Hischier

pairing: Nico Hischier x gn!reader (I believe)

word count: 2k

warnings: none?

summary: After you and Nico break you can’t sleep, til you show up at his place after a night out

not my gif!

“I’m done! We’re done! We cannot do this anymore, there’s too many fights, we’re barely together anymore.”

The words were haunting, being yelled at you by the man you thought you’d marry. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since the breakup, the worst two weeks of your life. You couldn’t sleep, you could barely eat, your friends were being ghosted, and yet, when the devils games would appear on your tv, he looked fine. 

It broke your heart a little more every time you would see pictures or videos of him, smiling and happy, while you were barely living. Why did he deserve to be happy now? Why did he get to not mourn the death of their relationship?

Yet behind the screens, he was as bad as you. The team tried endlessly to get him to come celebrate the win, but he’d never, choosing to stay in. trying to sleep away all the pain he caused, he wished he’d held on, wished he tried to work everything out, instead of just leaving. 

He’d stalk your friends on social media, seeing if you’d been with them at all, for two weeks, nothing. It was like you didn’t exist on social media, but then the third week, alone in his apartment, scrolling through instagram, he saw you again. Smiling, dancing, having a good time. All while he wallowed in his room, alone, his team out celebrating. He tried to see where you were, seemingly the same bar the team had gone to. 

When the notification of your best friend went live, he never clicked anything so fast, the shaky camera pointed at you when he joined, jumping around, dancing, he could see his team in the back, watching Dawson walk up to you. The music was too loud to hear anything else, but he could tell it wasn’t a completely innocent sentence when a blush covered your cheeks. Jealousy filled him quickly, he knew he had no right but he couldn’t not. So he decided if you were going to move on he was too, he changed into something more appropriate for going out and left. The bar was just down the street from him, only a couple minute walk. He made it there fast, with ease, slipping in to find his team. 

“NICO!” Jack was the first to see him and share his excitement at seeing the captain. That made everyone’s head turn, smiling at him, some even running to hug him when they spotted him. When his entrance settled down, he saw Dawson sitting with you, talking, flirting, he couldn’t tell the difference with the jealousy that filled him.

He could faintly hear your laugh over the excruciatingly loud music, seeing your head fall back. To him you were still the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen, it pained him to see you happy with his teammate. He was mesmerized staring at you until you felt his eyes on you, turning the catch him staring. He could see the way the joy, happiness, fell from your eyes at the sight of him. His heart shattered at how your eyes fell when you saw him, making him want to turn out and leave, never to be seen again, shamed for what he did. 

He saw Dawson say something to you, it was quiet, more whisper, then moved his arm around your waist, leading you to your friends. The tears filled your eyes quickly when they caught sight of Nico, his hair falling perfectly just like you’d remembered, his eyes shining in the dim light. Seeing him through all the effort you’d put into trying to move on out the window, seeing him made you need him almost more than you ever had. The sleepless night, the inability to eat feelings returning. 

Dawson held you tight against him, bringing you back to your friends. Raising his hand to wipe away your tears, his touch was gentle, almost enough to make you cry more. 

“I’m going to take her home, okay?” Dawson yelled to your friends when he got close enough, grabbing your bag from the table they had. They nodded, seeing Nico in the distance, the tears on your face, connecting the dots, they knew you shouldn’t be here anymore. 

When you turned around to try and find Nico one last time, he was gone. He was practically running home, fighting the urge to get you back, tell you how he regrets everything, fighting tears while he ran. He made it home in about a minute, slamming his door opened and closed fast, collapsing on his bed. 

Dawson had led you out to his car, asking for your address.

“No.” That elicited a very confused look out of Dawson.

“What?”

“Bring me to Nico’s please.” your voice was barely above a whisper, almost ashamed to ask. He just nodded, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot, he knew Nico could get you home if needed. 

It was a short ride to Nico's, taking only about three minutes, you got out quickly, thanking Dawson for the night. He nodded, repeating your thanks, letting you run inside. You couldn’t bother waiting for the elevator, running up all the stairs instead. 

When you made it to his door, slightly out of breath from the stupid number of stairs, you froze for a minute partially to catch your breath, practically to shake away the nerves. You stood there for at least two minutes, the tiredness truly catching up to you now. You knocked on his door, three times, just like you used to. 

He appeared at the door a few seconds later, his hair messy and his clothes trussled. Clearly just woken, you felt a bit bad, but then again, he broke your heart. 

“Y/n?” He sounded so confused and looked almost more. It was enough to make you have to hide a giggle when he asked that. 

“Hi.” 

“Why are you here? You should be at home, asleep.”

That was less of a question, more of an annoyed statement. It got on your nerves quickly, who was he to refuse to talk? He had to have gotten home only ten minutes ago, he couldn’t have been that asleep. 

“Okay, you know I was trying to be nice. You broke me. I just needed to know why? The minute I finally started moving on, you showed up. You show up and ruin it all again. I finally went out for the first time since you broke up with me and then you had to come and find me. Why? It’s not fair I was finally getting somewhere, I thought tonight maybe I’ll finally get a good night's sleep.”  you slowly trailed off at the end your words becoming quieter from your original outburst. 

“A good night's sleep?”

“I haven’t slept in weeks, Nico.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t!”

He looked confused again with your answer. Of course, he could sleep fine, but you got the shit-end of the break-up. You couldn’t do anything but Nico was playing fine and sleeping well. That’s what you thought, he was not as perfect as you thought, he could sleep though. 

“What do you mean you can’t sleep?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep since you broke up with me.” the words were mumbled and quiet, he barely heard them but they broke his heart.

“Baby-”

“No you can’t do this! I came to get closure! Not to fall for you again.”

“Come inside, please.” You shook your head, not trying to fall back into him. He didn’t take that as an answer, gently grabbing you and pulling you in. melting into his arms when he pulled you further into him to close the door.

“You need to get some sleep, baby.” he was quiet with his words, seeing the way your eyes were closed, leaning into him. 

"Please, hold me. I can't sleep without you anymore." 

He agreed, leading you to his room, just like before. He did pull you off him to hand you one of his t-shirts to sleep in, then turning to allow you to change. When you were done you fell onto his bed, curling into your regular spot, waiting for him to join you. His heart soared at the sight he’d been missing for weeks. He slid under the covers with you, letting you cuddle beside him, fitting snug against him. 

In the morning you woke up without Nico beside you, immediately causing you to panic. What if this was a huge mistake? What if he just thought you were really desperate now? 

Slowly you got up, walking to his kitchen, where you assumed he’d be. He was leaning against his counter, sipping a cup of coffee. 

“I made you a cup.” he said, pointing towards the steaming cup on the counter. You walked over to it quickly, taking a sip. The exact way you liked it, he’d remembered. 

“Thank you.” 

He just nodded, continuing to sip his coffee. It made the room tense and you very anxious. 

“Do you regret letting me sleep here last night?” The words made Nico choke on his coffee, not prepared for the question yet. 

When he stopped coughing, you rubbed his back to help calm him, he answered.

“No, not at all. That’s the best sleep I've had in weeks, since we broke up.”

The words shocked you, taking them in for a minute. He was quick to continue when you didn’t say anything.

“I regret breaking us up, I regret letting you leave that day. I should’ve tried harder”. 

“Nico, baby, it’s okay-”

“It’s not okay, I hurt you, so much. I was stupid i hurt both of us, you should cuss me out and never come back, but you came back. I swear if you’ll take me back, I’ll never hurt you again. I miss you so much, God I miss everything about you. Your kisses, your hugs, the way you hold me in your sleep.” there were tears in his eyes by the end of his rant, begging to take him back.

“Neeks, I love you.” you wiped away his tears. “Of course I’ll take you back babes.”

He was ecstatic when he heard the words, practically dropping his coffee to pick you up, spinning you around, peppering you with kisses. Your laughter filled the room, music to Nico’s ears. 

“God, I’ve missed that sound.” he mumbled, placing you on the ground and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His scruff tickling your skins, making you giggle again, making him nuzzle more into you.

“Neeks!” you laughed, pulling away from him. He followed you back, leaning with you. 

The rest of the day was spent in bed together, catching up on the missed sleep, cuddles, and kisses. Sleeping the day away, only waking when there was knocking on Nico’s door. Nico slowly got up, complaining while he walked to the door, his slow pace giving you time to follow him. When he opened it, the boys waiting at the door were quick to push  they’re way in. gasping and grinning when they either saw or walked into you, like Jack. 

“What are you idiots doing here?” Nico’s voice was unimpressed, annoyed at his team’s unwanted arrival. 

“You wouldn’t answer your phone, you were scaring us!” Jack explained, making point of the fact Nico didn’t have his phone on. 

“Yeah probably because I was sleeping!”

“Sleeping with Y/N!” The boys were quick to put two and two together to get that conclusion and simultaneously start chirping him. 

“Shut up!” Nico finally yelled, bringing you to him to cover your ears before. 

“Now, if you’d leave so we can go back to sleep,” he shooed everyone to the door.

“We were going to go to a movie, did you want to come?” Dawson finally asked, revealing why they had been there in the first place.

Nico looked at you, you just shrugged your shoulders, letting Nico choose. 

“No, thanks though, now please leave.”

Nico was quick to close the door in their faces before turning back to you, picking you up and bringing you back to his room. He threw you onto his bed, sliding beside you right after, cuddling with you again, luring you back to sleep. 

[citrinae]

cursed are the ones who ate the fruit.

robin x reader

summary; you always had a thing for passivity. watching events come and go, not getting involved. yet this is soon to change when you slip away from a halloween party to spend some time with the woman rumoured to have bargained with the devil. 

contents; murder, ambiguous morality, college!AU, afab!reader, wc: 1.3. i support women’s rights but most importantly i support women’s wrongs. part of my spooktober nonsense. 

masterlist

“Don't trust Nico Robin,” was the first thing ever told to you as a first-year student. “Whatever you do, stay away from that witch. Nothing good ever comes from associating yourself with her.” Someone said she killed a man, wet and pathetic in his own bed. Someone else insisted she was the reason why the dean's wife ended it with him, going on about how the poor fucking guy was made to sleep in his office for a week until he’d be allowed to return to an empty apartment. 

But one rumour they all seem to agree with is that she sold her soul to the Devil. “Demon woman,” as they described her to you back then. You saw it as a really unfortunate exaggeration; they insisted it was not.

Everyday you see her—dark hair, fitted dresses, leather jackets—sitting all by herself on the marble stairs of the faculty, a portrait of modern tragedy. Most of the time it’s with a book in her hands, and not once have you felt the defiant urge to join her and strike up a conversation about whatever the title unlocks in either of you. After all, you’re pretty sure she noticed you, too, welcoming your presence with a smile each time your eyes happen to stumble upon each other. Always so small, always so sweet, the type of natural innocence making you want to pick it up and brush it like some kind of expensive china. Pushing coins into the rusty vending machine by the dining hall, you sometimes catch yourself scripting interactions in your head. “Is it true?” you’d ask her at some point, leaves creaking under your boot. “That you dealt your soul away?”

The answer never comes, for you cannot quite figure what her voice would sound like. You haven’t heard her talking to anyone before. 

Would she talk to you, were you to get closer?

Despite the number of questions clutching your stomach at the sight of this woman, so lonely and beautiful in the comfortable distance, yet so vile from up close they needed to invoke the Bible to describe the experience, you prefer to believe that you were made for the simpler things in life. So you’ve tried your best to live your college days without thinking much of Nico Robin. Attend courses and sip on cheap booze and make friends like anyone your age would be expected to do. 

It’s this thought that pushed you to this place to begin with, keeping yourself busy by focusing on the multicoloured lights and the threads of fake spider web hanging about some colleague’s rented apartment. Kitsch costumes and plastic glasses, board games and smudged eyeliner, air dense with sweat and perfume. The music is loud, and people have to raise their voices to make themselves clear for important stuff like cigarette breaks or needing to hold a fellow’s hair in the bathroom. Someone compliments your costume; by default you find something nice to say about theirs as well. By the corner of your eye you watch a couple sucking each other’s face off, flushed and lazy on a beer-stained sofa. 

A familiar voice suggests that you gather for some rounds of Spin the Bottle, and a tepid gush of bodies shoots into a circle as soon as it does. This time, you decide to simply watch the game take its course; lifting yourself onto a table, back flat against the window, intervening with a joke whenever you catch an opportunity to. For a moment you think everything should be like this: light and approachable, a recorded show you can skip and rewind to your heart’s content. 

The bottle spins, and spins, and spins. Then it stops. Laughter turns into a muffled series of sounds as you absent-mindedly watch the leaves bend and billow outside the window. 

And that’s when you see her. 

Strands of hair flutter behind the trees. There’s a canvas bag in her hands, and a leather jacket thrown over her shoulders. She looks to be in a hurry. 

Your heart squeezed inside your ribcage, you hurl yourself towards your boots and coat, breathing out an excuse as you leave the crowds. Stairs echo under your feet, your mind blank with nothing but the pressing realisation that tonight might be your only chance to get your answers. Faster you run, over puddles and through brittle trees, cold seeping into your clothes and numbing your fists. You need to see her. No, you need to hear her, maybe even understand her. Behind you the polluted glow of the town fades as you dive deeper into the woods. Something moves into a bush nearby, but adrenaline pulses into your ears a bit too loud for you to care. 

When you stop, your feet feel like they’re about to collapse. You bring your hand to your spleen. Gingerly your eyes climb up the height of Robin’s boots, dark leather stretched to the knees, and when they reach her face, you’re met with a smile different from the one you were used to seeing between classes. There’s something sly to it now, something wicked. Shame clutches your stomach as you remember the stories your colleagues told by the dumpster. “Woman’s fucking bad news.”

“You’re a bold one,” Robin’s voice snatches you out of your head. It’s soft, divine, and your heart stops for a good second as she slightly tilts her head to the side. “Coming all the way here to catch me doing something bad.”

She doesn’t sound mad; if anything there’s a tinge of amusement for you to pick out from her voice. Like she expected you to meet you here, under these circumstances. You cannot seem to take your eyes from the blood under her fingernails, still not fully dried out. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you hear yourself saying. 

Robin’s laugh is melodic, like a bell chime. It makes you feel sick. “Would you tell on me?”

You shake your head.

“Even if you did,” Robin says. “I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.”

Something melts within you as the words leave her. With the courage built by Robin’s perplexing hospitality, you point towards the bag hoisted around her shoulder. “What’s in there?”

“History,” is all she says. 

“Of what?”

“Of this town, our college. Things they don’t want you to know.”

Taking into account the gravity of the situation, you find it hard to comprehend the ease with which she’s telling you all this. Inner cheek pressed between your teeth, a new question takes form in your head: are you really a threat to her? Looking into Robin’s eyes, primed and intelligent, you’re inclined to say no.

Wind blows wrathfully through tree crowns, through Robin’s hair. There’s a numbing chill biting into your bones and for a second you’re sure you’ve seen a pair of horns sprouting from her head. 

Further suspicion lingers on the roof of your mouth. “The dean is dead.”

A second later, “I had no choice.”

“But there’s no evidence that you did.”

“There is not,” she smiles, all warmth. 

“So why are you telling me this?” you ask her, and you can hear her heels press into the ground as she moves forward. 

Robin carefully measures the uncertainty in your eyes, sweeps a cold finger below your chin to align your stares. “Didn’t you want to know me better?”

Heat cuts through your lungs; you say nothing. 

“Besides,” she continues. Freesia and violets in your nostrils; a hint of sulphur you choose to ignore. “Recently I’ve taken quite an interest in you as well.”

And even now, with all the cards laid on the table, Nico Robin continues to stay a mystery to you. Even though you’re certain there’s something evil lurking behind her shoulders, leaning into the undeniable warmth of her words, stars dashing off her eyes with the promise of building something new, something better, you cannot help but wish to keep on unravelling her like a most fascinating riddle. 

[lewisinho]

✨lewis hamilton’s most underrated mercedes drives ✨🏎️

as promised, part 2 with some mercedes drives (by all means not an exhaustive list, but at the very least i hope, a worthy one); lewis’ mclazza drives collection for those interested: here

fav lil’ guy finally free from the clutches of ron dennis and mclaren, handed some rocketships, reunited with blond guy named nico and entering his domination era; live laugh love achieving zen era comes much later; this is lewis hamilton who is ready to fight god and anyone who stands in his way; there’s a ruthlessness to him and his driving, which he will use and he will use it well, he’s talented and good, you watch lewis in a car that can perform and it’s just such a pleasure to witness what he is capable of doing; he is a racer, first and foremost, and he is obsessed with winning, i mean obsessed, the way he celebrates every single win like it’s his very first; he loves and bleeds this sport, even if it can be incredibly cruel to him (and still is, to this day). and btw still the king of the fucking circus, don’t you forget it. chasing your own destiny and creating a myth out of your legacy, you know when david bowie said i always had a repulsive need to be something more than human… yeah lewis who’s afraid of not doing enough, of not being enough, he cannot remain human, he must be something more, he needs to be the best and he wants it more, and you know for a man who has ‘divine love’ tattooed on his hand, what does a narrative mean? for someone who believes that what he does is an art form and who describes racing as a spiritual experience, one must presume there is some form of divinity he believes he can obtain,,,anyway 🙃, allons-y: 

hungary 2014 🇭🇺 aka the usual hamilton hungarian cook sesh’ (he’s a bit insane around this track ngl)

arguably his most underrated non-win drive; pitlane start to p3 and features radio gold such as ✨i’m not slowing down for nico ✨💅 iconique if you ask me; the racing gods decided to plague him with brake issues and a hot seat burning his ass on top of his car already catching on fire during quali (give this guy a break lmao); everything was against him, and he still got a podium. also his overtakes during this race...and specifically THAT overtake on jev *chefs kiss*. i also endorse his criminal behaviour and his last-lap shenanigans with nico as well. 10/10 no notes.

silverstone 2015 🇬🇧 aka cloud watching pays off

lewis at silverstone. yeah. but add a bit of spice in the form of english weather™️. instincts of a man from stevenage and one prescient decision to pit for inters at just the right time before the heavens opened and you get a win by 11 seconds ahead of the next guy and a whole field of cars scrambling in the wet. luck or genius? they asked. 'i can see the clouds over stowe'. he saw the clouds and nico approaching, pulled the trigger on lap 43 and won the race, so you tell me. also features some celebratory donuts (he was so happy after the race, silverstone means a lot to him and you can really tell) and bono soaking wet on the podium 😁

brazil 2016 🇧🇷 aka the interlagos saga continues

whatever max verstappen was doing to nico rosberg in this race is one thing (objectively hilarious), but lewis hamilton, you see he won that race; babes after the race said he was watching the screens around the track while driving in the brazilian downpour, unbothered, incredibly moisturised, happy, very much in his lane, focused and flourishing; and as mentioned in lewis’ underrated mclaren drives post, lewis at interlagos is special, the lore, the myth of it all runs deep, and this is the first time he’s won! in the pouring rain, while trailing in a championship he will eventually lose, he’s finally achieved a dream he’s had: winning in brazil; the red flag period also features baby sharl nervously glancing at lewis in the haas garage (who’d have thought they’d trauma bond over a dsq in austin 7 years later…)

abu dhabi 2016 🇦🇪aka anarchy

yes, i included this race because i stand with my cancelled wife; they were calling for his ass to be fired after the race, paddy lowe was screaming in his ear to speed the hell up, blasphemy, heresy, how dare he disobey his team, how dare he want to win the championship! anyway, like yeah ofc it wasn’t entirely respectful, but it’s racing at the end of the day; a driver will prioritise himself, and lil’ war criminal lewis, i adore you very much (he had horner defending him lmfao while torger was sending him to red bull); the shitstorm in the media afterwards, goodness gracious tho; no wonder lewis and toto needed a sit-down in toto’s kitchen lol; but it’s such a beautifully well-managed race; of course he could go faster, of course he knew exactly what he was doing slowing down and speeding up in just the right places…all in one desperate but masterful attempt at winning the championship; in the end, it wasn’t in his hands, but it is still a great race to watch purely for the mind fuckery and mercedes being absolutely pissed. also, it’s very much an end of an era.

monza 2018 🇮🇹 aka one man and his machine against a nation of ~60 million people

maybe 'underrated' is the wrong word to use for this one in all honesty, people give his ‘18 post-summer break run its due honours, because this is lewis destroying the hopes and dreams of the tifosi, sebastian vettel and the ferrari establishment with maurizio arrivabene at the helm race by race, lap by lap; it’s lewis at arguably, his strongest yet, he danced in that w09, those magnificent quali laps, those races that he dominated from start to finish...but monza, oh monza, maybe there’s something so poetic about that race and starting the run of domination in ferrari land; it’s got lewis vs kimi!!! nostalgia merchants will absolutely adore this one because it’s just like those ‘07 races, also brilliant strategy from merc and lewis and his incredible, jaw-dropping race pace driving like a man possessed 

hungary 2019 🇭🇺 aka the infamous one that inspired spain '21

when lewis arrives at the hungaroring, you know the man is about to cook something worthy of a michelin star. add a two-stop strategy masterclass from one james vowles and you get an absolute classic of a race and if you know what happened just a week earlier (the trials and tribulations of hockenheim), it also feels like redemption; two cars fighting for the win, lewis banging in quali lap after quali lap as he hunts down max; clinical, faultless, and brilliant and it’s such a satisfying race to rewatch (bonus: there’s also jv on the podium and lewis looking incredibly proud)

spain 2020 🇪🇸 aka the pure brilliance of lewis and the w11

jallison’s monster, w11. when she first appeared in fp1 on a friday morning in southeastern austria, best believe the first notes of the imperial march already sounded prophetically around the styrian alps. an icon, a legend, she was the moment and we miss her dearly. pair her with one lewis hamilton, a man on a mission both on track and off it, and you will produce sexiness. purple helmet + black w11 legendary combo, the sheer cunt serving, the audacity, THE presence; i could mention any race from 2020 (notably, tuscany and portugal bc they fly under the radar as well in terms of lewis' performances) but i will add spain to this list, mostly because of what lewis said post-race about what he experienced during the race and why it epitomises the brillance of him as a driver: "i was just in a daze out there", "i was in a different zone then, didn't know it was the last lap" ; you don't reach perfection, but you chase it (as he also mentioned in the press-co), but there's something quite sublime in seeing him deliver such a performance, when he himself is left well, stunned; this is the race that could be lewis hamilton's 90 minute masterclass on tyre management.

hope you enjoyed these vroom vroom recs; might still yet do a merc 2.5 post cause there are a few other drives that also deserve a mention 💜🏎️

[umbran6]

An Error In Divine Bureaucracy

It all starts when Odin's scheme backfires. There are disadvantages to going incognito, after all. Taking the role of 'X' (which personally speaking, sounds foul considering Twitter's still trying to fall into that brand) means that although the King of the Gods can view the workings of Hotel Valhalla, he cannot influence how his hotel is run. Sometimes, that makes the battles a bit too bloody. Sometimes, the thanes decide to overreach their authority. And there was one time they all decided to break convention and make a mock high-school Prom (to the death).

One of these slip-ups is more unconventional: Gunilla decides to patrol Long Island when rumors of a deadly conflict behind the shadows spread to Hotel Valhalla. If Odin was, well, Odin, he could've stopped it. However, Odin, acting as X, cannot keep his lone eye on his Valkyrie Captain.

Thanatos is overworked. He needs to catch up on hunting down all the souls that escaped the Greek Underworld. So, despite his best efforts to keep all the Giants and monsters dead, he can't be perfect. He can't be there when Leo is burning to ashes as he and Festus soar ever higher.

Octavian is a bit slower and more hesitant. Maybe Will's words get to the legacy's head for a few precious seconds, or maybe Nico's aura of death puts fear inside his soul before he steels his nerves. So when he fires himself at Leo and Gaea, it is far too late. Leo has enough time to finish the job.

So when Gunilla spots a boy with flames so bright they mimic a second sun riding a bronze dragon and fighting a monstrous earthly hag, Gunilla doesn't hesitate. The second Leo's body crumbles to ashes, she flies his soul to Hotel Valhalla with Festus as both his luggage and the weapon he died holding. Olympus doesn't catch on to what's happening, which is for the better.

Leo, of course, is extremely bewildered. He's heard Percy and Annabeth's story of how they went to the Underworld—the lines of dead waiting to be judged, Cerberus waiting to chew any and all trespassers into his next meal, and Charon's desire for garish Italian suits. He did not expect to be handed a rune stone, given a mini-bar key, and shuffled into a luxury suite that would make his section of the Argo II look like a shady motel room while his body suddenly looked fit AF. If it weren't for the fact that he had read up on some Norse mythology during his time in the streets, he would've been completely clueless. For fun and convenience's sake, I'll put him on Floor 19.

Like Magnus, Leo thinks he's hallucinating. His room is like a mix of Bunker Nine, Charles Beckendorf's room in the Hephaestus Cabin, and his old room in the apartment he and his mom lived in, all smashed together. For a second, he grounds himself in the familiar — playing with the inventions in his tool belt, petting Festus, and cooking himself some food. Only when he inspects Festus and finds the physician's cure fully intact does he realize something has gone horribly wrong.

Odin, of course, is aware of Leo's arrival at Hotel Valhalla. He only really understands the nature of the hotel's newest guest once Leo's heroic feat is displayed in front of everyone. The thanes, Helgi, and Valhalla's warriors cheer Leo's name. Only the Norns and Odin are silent, both realizing just how exactly things have gone FUBAR.

See, here's the thing about pantheons worldwide when they interact with their divine neighbors: They don't. We're talking about beings functioning under several different rules of reality and their own brands of magic and godly firepower that could tear apart continents and perhaps even the world if they get too sloppy. Syncretism and divine fist-fights have sprouted either differing degrees of bad blood and conflict. If a pantheon chooses to mess with another's favorites, you can be assured the rest of the divine mafia will be out to get them.

Though Leo did the feat with support, he single-handedly masterminded the death of a primordial being. In the Greek Pantheon's view, he should enjoy a peaceful life in Elysium or even join the ranks of Olympus. Leo being chosen as an einherjar is like your favorite athlete getting kidnapped and pressed into military service by another country. Though Leo is getting physical upgrades, the Olympians would see this as an attempt to subvert their sovereignty by kidnapping a hero under their noses. And Odin knows that he and the rest of the Norse gods will need as much einherjar as they can get- losing them in a possible war between pantheons would thin out their numbers.

So Odin decides to break the masquerade, albeit in a limited fashion. Using his ravens to summon Leo and Gunilla, he sheds the disguise of X and reveals why he hid himself from Hotel Valhalla and just how exactly things were screwed up. He apologizes to Leo for essentially kidnapping him, explains to Gunilla just why Leo's recruitment shouldn't have happened, and that touching another pantheon's demigods was a tremendous faux pas.

So he proposes two different possibilities - they can send Leo back to the mortal world and pretend nothing is wrong, or he can stay in Hotel Valhalla until they find a way to spin things so Olympus isn't sending out its best and brightest to do their best to merk the rest of Asgard.

And, well, Leo accepts the second choice. Mainly because he has a bit of an agenda. First, he knows he can't precisely break Calypso out of Ogygia in the state he's in. His master plan to simultaneously kill Gaea and help her relied on the fact that he was dead while Festus brought his body to Ogygia's airspace. He knows it's too much of a stretch, but perhaps the Norse pantheon will have a solution to bypass the magic surrounding Ogygia and allow him to free her.

Aside from that, Leo just wants some peace. He worked himself to the bone, building the Argo II and then maintaining it during the entire month and half-voyage. Most of it had been a thankless job with several near-death experiences. The least he could do was treat himself to a vacation despite the constant TO THE DEATH! experiences Hotel Valhalla had to offer. Heck, maybe he could make some friends here.

Thus begins Leo's stay at Hotel Valhalla. Of course, such a start involves him being impaled several times after the rest of the hotel's guests gang up on him after they make it through Festus during battle training. But he gets used to the constant bloodshed and conflict throughout the hotel, using it to sharpen himself in the ways of combat that Camp Half-Blood didn't entirely teach him. He also learns of the runes, which leads to him scheming. If he can learn how to wield the power of the runes, he can begin conjuring a magical solution to circumvent Ogygia's barriers.

So, for the months Leo is in Hotel Valhalla, he learns. He picks up knives as his primary weapon, second to the hammers; he refines his inventions and upgrades Festus. He low-key (lol) pesters Odin in his X form to teach him the runes. Odin, of course, is having none of it. He would have been willing to teach a knowledge seeker a few tricks in a different situation. But he knows that different pantheon's magics either work beautifully or have disastrous results. One need only look at the Serapis Incident.

Of course, he also makes his own friendships within Hotel Valhalla. We learn another side of Gunilla as Leo tries to get along with the Valkyrie Captain (which is expected because of all the pranks he pulls). He makes friends with TJ and Mallory while trying to get on Odin's good side by showing that he can keep up with the Valhallians (I'm punching myself for that pun).

Then, Sword of Summer comes along, and things get interesting because Mimir tells Odin about Magnus's role. He knows that Magnus will need all the help he can get, and though Blitz and Hearthstone are servants that Mimir trusts, he wants to reinforce any and all chances of winning. He can't help directly since he still wants to maintain the façade of X. However, Leo can. An einherjar demigod who has experience in fighting threats larger than him? Already saved the world once? Seems like the perfect candidate to help stop Ragnarok.

So he sends Leo in—of course, it's not without a price tag. Although Odin may be the king of the gods in Valhalla, he's still ordering a demigod from another pantheon to essentially act as his hand. One that could quickly turn tail if things went to crap or become a turncoat if someone tried to give him a strong enough bribe. Or, you know, alerting Olympus the second he steps on Midgard. Odin knows what Leo wants but not why he seeks it. So, he reluctantly offers to teach the demigod how to wield the runes if he aids Magnus Chase.

Leo is more than happy to accept the task, not only because of what he gets out of it but also because Odin is offering him a deal. He's not going about this like the prophecies that demanded attendance or the apocalypse would come about. He even gets a guaranteed reward once the mission is completed.

So Leo, with help from Gunilla, enters Midgard. He easily fits into the clique of homeless people Magnus is a part of—Leo lived on the streets for most of his life when he wasn't in the foster home system, after all. Festus is with him in his suitcase form, slyly hinting to Hearth and Blitz that he is in the know. Leo is essentially turned by Odin into his divine 007 if 007 lived on the streets as a homeless guy.

He does his best to gain Magnus's trust. He befriends him, proving himself reliable without betraying his awareness of the mystical cloaks and daggers behind the scenes. And, well, he connects with Magnus more than he expected. Maybe it's because he understands Magnus's bitterness and cynical outlook on the world - he went through the same thing when he was younger. Leo just hides it better with a smile. Part of him just wants to protect Magnus.

In the meantime, Magnus is a bit shocked that beyond Blitz and Hearth, another guy his age is willing to look out for him and be his friend. This is most likely something Magnus has never had since his mother died. The first thing that we notice is that during the beginning chapters of Sword of Summer, Magnus is alone. Hearth and Blitz have a few moments in which they show up, but Magnus himself has no one close to his age that he can connect with. This means that despite Leo being the one to do the attaching, Magnus is quite happy that they're attached to the hip.

You guys can probably guess the direction I want to take their relationship. I've read The Homeless Demigod Club. It's one of those fics that lowkey made me realize that crossover ships can be magnificent if you are willing to put in the work to make it work and show how two characters can connect. I would've added this as a spiritual successor to that fic. I will link it here so everyone can read it. (Link)

And then the promised day arrives. Annabeth Chase and her father set foot in Boston, and Leo does his best to hide from their presence while helping Magnus. He discourages Magnus from breaking into his uncle's house but is still willing to do so either way. He follows Magnus's decision because he believes that Magnus has been jerked around so many times that he deserves his own sense of agency. So when Magnus decides to follow Randolph, Leo follows Randolph even though the guy has enough red flags to rival the CCP.

Then Magnus calls forth Sumarbrander, Surt appears, and everything happens. Blitz and Hearth try to intervene and are just as quickly curbstomped like canon. Leo watches, forcing himself to stop and examine each action Surt takes. Then, when Surt entirely focuses on Magnus does he step up.

Magnus POV

"You know, Mr. Volcano, I thought you'd just go for the head. I wonder why you're wasting so much time." Leo stepped forward, suitcase in hand.

"Leo, go away. Get in there and get Hearth, but you don't need to get involved." I protested.

For a second, I was wondering just what all of my homeless friends were smoking because they were suddenly getting all these courageous ideas. Hearth had shot his arrows, Blitz had swung his watch out for ducklings sign. Now Leo - stick thin and somehow not fainting because of the heat - was apparently willing to go mano-a-mano with a guy who was taller than he was.

"Blitz was right, though. It was their mission to protect you. As for me, it's my duty." Leo dropped the suitcase.

I expected it to melt like the cars nearby and the asphalt beneath our feet. But then it grew. Parts started to jut out, panels began to unfold, and Leo's luggage grew despite the laws of physics that were screaming this shouldn't be happening. At first, it was a pure mess, but then a pair of wings sprouted out. A reptilian head somehow appeared from the chaos. Before I knew it, what was once a suitcase my friend dragged around was a bronze dragon that was as tall and wide as a semi truck.

It let out a roar into the sky that made the entire bridge vibrate. Right beneath it, Leo pulled out a pair of knives from that blasted tool belt with an ease that told me he'd done this before. Those brown eyes scanned the entire bridge, and I could feel the air near me dropping a few degrees. If anything, the area around Leo started to blur as if he was absorbing all the heat the 'Black One' radiated.

Surt's gaze turned severe as if satan had dissed one of his takes on fashion. "What are you?"

"You could say I'm a bit like Maggie here — a demigod from a slightly different brand." I was a bit too shocked at the fact that my friend had a mecha dragon to even snark at that.

Leo smiled, but the killing intent it radiated made me want to flinch. "But if you want my full name, you can have it."

Leo beckoned Surt with one of his knives. "I am Leo Valdez. You messed with my friend. Prepare to die."

End POV

The conflict nearly destroys the entire bridge. Leo and Festus's time in Hotel Valhalla has yielded fruit. Though it can be laconically described as a Jujutsu Kaisen-level gang-up, the demigod and his mechanical mount are in sync to the point they can rarely be matched. While Festus is physically stronger than Leo, Leo is faster and has more variety in his attacks, which combine to keep the King of Muspelheim off balance.

However, Leo is still a demigod. No matter the power upgrade being an einherjar and the combat experience he's earned at Hotel Valhalla, he doesn't have the physical might to permanently disable Surt, even with Festus. And although the Jotunn can't burn Leo, Leo can't overcome Surt's own fire and make it non-vice-versa. It is a stalemate until Leo cannot keep up, and Magnus can see that. He awakens Sumarbrander and intervenes, still cutting off Surt's nose. Surt still seizes the chance to kill Magnus, impaling the unknowing son of Freyr with his scimitar. It is only Leo's own reaction that prevents Surt from seizing the sword.

History repeats. Samirah chooses Magnus and brings him to Hotel Valhalla. Blitz and Hearth confer with Mimir on what to do next, while Gunilla returns Leo to the hotel so they can scheme with Odin. When Magnus is fully resurrected, Leo is the familiar face amongst a crowd of strangers, one Magnus can still rely on. Magnus's body is still recovered. Everything seems perfectly in line with canon.

Until it isn't.

Annabeth POV

I've seen my fair share of mortal panic. There was that time at the Gateway Arch during my first quest with Percy (and boy, did part of me want to go back to those days). Then there was the time Kronos and Morpheus broke the chronological sleep bubble that covered all of New York, leading to a human stampede.

So when Dad (I was still getting used to calling him that) got a call from the BPD stating that they found my uncle Randolph in a rabid panic close to ground zero of an explosion, I defied all convenient laws of mortal logic and ran toward the sirens. And the fire truck engines. And probably all emergency services that are known to man.

I will admit that part of me had a raging hatred for my uncle at the moment. It was bad enough that whatever he did had apparently led to the entire mortal side of my family imploding into what was described by my Dad as essentially a nuclear meltdown, with us being split into chunks. Then there was the fact that he somehow hid the death of the only aunt I liked and that the only cousin I trusted was now homeless for two years. And last but not least, the disgraced professor of Harvard called us at midnight saying Magnus was in danger, leading to us getting the closest red-eye flight to Boston.

When we arrived at the scene, I did my best not to pay attention to the people who were hurt. The best I could describe them was that everyone was burnt—some easily mistaken for sunburns, others who would probably need a visit to the hospital. Medics nearby were doing their best to triage the scene while cops were doing their best to get statements out of people who were clearly still shell-shocked from what their eyes may have witnessed.

I quickly spotted Randolph and marched through the chaos, vaguely hearing Dad follow me. He looked physically spared, though a bit shaken up. Which part of me noted was bizarre since, according to Dad, BPD told him a couple of weirdly dressed homeless dudes had dragged him from the epicenter of the explosion.

I had no sympathy, so I got right down to business. "What happened?"

He kept rambling to himself, and I could barely hear his hushed words - sword, black, beast, machine, giant - before I grabbed his shoulder and pinched in a way Chiron taught me would make anyone scream.

"Focus. What the T-" My mind flipped into a Tartarus flashback before I caught myself. "Hell happened?"

Thankfully, Randolph didn't scream, which meant he was either brave or still drunk on adrenaline. But something must have happened because the man's wrinkled face focused on me. "I found Magnus in my home accompanied by another boy. I was bringing him over to you when the meteor struck the bridge-"

My mind was already poking several holes in his discussion - he could've called Dad if he had already found Magnus and the bridge where the explosion took place was farther away from us. Still, I pretended to follow along and nodded.

"What happened to Magnus?" I asked, and Randolph turned pale.

"He - he fell out of the bridge. The meteor hit us head-on. I somehow got lucky, but Magnus got launched out of my car and - "

"Randolph." My father's voice turned deadly serious. "I saw your car in a twenty-minute parking lot. Already ticketed. So if I may speak so frankly, let's cut the bullshit and tell us the truth."

I winced at that. Mainly because my father rarely cursed - he had been giving off an air of wholesomeness when I stayed with him. The fact that he was willing to start cursing showed just how far things had gone wrong.

Randolph surrendered at that and started talking — about Aunt Natalie's death and its supernatural causes and how he thought Magnus was the next in line to die. How he believed Magnus was the son of a Norse god and that his birthright was apparently an all-powerful sword. Then he stated he found Magnus in the Chase mansion with the other boy and how the boy had insisted on sticking with Magnus. He told us how he urged Magnus to claim his birthright and that my cousin had succeeded before a man claiming to be Surt appeared.

Then, I learned how some of Magnus's homeless friends had tried to defend him before the other boy stepped up. "Wait. This guy claimed to be a demigod?"

Randolph nodded at that. "Yes. I didn't believe it either - the kid was so thin I could've folded him into my drawers and still have space for my clothes."

"But he still stood up. He and that blasted suitcase-monster of his. He matched Surt, if only for a while. Then Magnus got involved and he was - and he was -"

Randolph shed a few tears, and I almost had to recoil at his words. Still, I soldiered on. Death had always been part of a demigod's life, whether they were victims, witnesses, or causes. I would have time to mourn for the cousin that my family had failed.

"Can you describe what this guy looked like? He may be able to tell us about his relationship with Magnus. And what he knows about the truth." I asked, doing my best to keep the conversation going.

Randolph vibrated, clearly still shaken up. Yet he kept talking. "Of course. Give me a second. Frederick?"

My dad pulled out a few tissues from the pocket of his suit jacket, which Randolph blew into so strongly it reminded me of an elephant. Disposing the tissues into a nearby trashcan, my uncle looked at us.

"Yes. Very recognizable fellow. He disabled all of the electronic alarms I put in there. Thin, of course. Kind of looked like - what do teenagers call pretty boys these days? Never mind. He looked like one of those. Light brown skin. Curly black hair, brown eyes. Magnus probably had a crush on him, considering how he looked at the boy."

I rolled my eyes. "Clothes?"

"Yes, yes. White shirt with a bit of a collar. A green jacket that was too big for him - probably a woman's? Blue jeans. He also had a tool belt."

Suddenly, I felt like I had taken a dip in the Boston River. I had been willing to dismiss the initial description because anybody could've had a similar face and hair. I would've ruined the search if I just looked for the most likely person. But the tool belt was too much out of left field to ignore.

I seized his jacket lapels, almost tempted to lift him up. I could do it, too. Because there was no way the person Randolph was describing to me could've been in Boston, much less alive.

"What was his name?" I whispered out.

"Pardon?"

"What was his name," I repeated myself, tempted to pull out my knife.

"Oh yes. Thankfully, he was upfront about it. Who the hell quotes The Princess Bride?" Randolph gave a small laugh about it before he looked at me straight in the eyes and flipped my world upside down. "His name was Leo Valdez."

End POV.

The Sword of Summer is also flipped upside down because it is no longer just a mission to stop Fenris Wolf from being unleashed upon the nine worlds. With Annabeth finding the truth about Leo's location, nearly all the members of the Argo II crew (Frank and Hazel can't drop their posts in New Rome after all) do their best to get to Boston ASAP. They had never heard any whispers or truths about Leo's circumstances - you know, because Odin needed to keep everything in the DL. Finding out a guy that they believed was dead for six months was actually chilling with homeless dudes in Boston is a recipe to make your friends both pissed and worried at the same time.

Unfortunately, this also puts a kibosh on any plans to follow canon because Leo is now being hunted by his friends in a situation where staying incognito is vital. Of course, they can't break into Asgard or Valhalla because they don't know how to get there. Any attempts at Iris-Messaging Leo go horribly wrong because Iris needs a cross-dimensional roaming plan for her services to work in this situation. When Leo returns to Midgard to help Magnus, the gloves come off on the search.

Leo's involvement doesn't just add spice; it force-feeds the plot enough Carolina reaper peppers to set its mouth on fire and cause diarrhea that needs its own fallout zone. The crew of the Argo II chases him down when Annabeth meets Magnus, leading them to accidentally stumble across the Nine Realms when Percy tracks Magnus and Sam after their encounter with Jormungand. They each end up getting scattered across the Nine Realms - Jason into Jotunnheim, Piper into Svartalfheim, Annabeth falling into Folkvanger, while Percy gets the short end of the stick and is stuck in Midgard.

The Seven think that Magnus and Co. are holding their friend against his will. Magnus believes it's people from Leo's past who want him dead. Leo can't get a single word about the truth as things erupt too easily into conflict, and Odin's mandate for secrecy stops him from giving the full story. Regardless, he tries to keep the peace as he, Magnus, and the rest of the crew run into each other through the realms.

It all accumulates at Lyngvi. Surt arrives. Fenris Wolf tries to break free. The warriors of Floor 19, alongside the Valkyries, actually join up with Magnus and co because Gunilla has been briefed by Odin as to what exactly is going on. And the crew of the Argo II makes landfall right in the middle of the fight. They're all quick to realize that the fire giants are their opponents, and the tide of battle is turned with the sudden influx of reinforcements, no matter their origin.

Having an additional four out of seven heroes who also had a hand in saving the world? One of them, you know, having powers over the ocean in the middle of a freaking island? That's no longer a battle; that's the opposing side being Amazon-delivered to the closest morgue with same-day shipping.

When things are settled, and everyone is tired from simultaneously kicking Surt to the curb and imprisoning Fenris Wolf, things finally get cleared up. Odin reveals himself early to explain to the Seven what happened to Leo on August 1. Of course, Odin does his best to spin things in the best possible light for the Norse Pantheon and portray himself as doing his best to help Leo recover from the post-death experience. Leo is always welcome to stay at Hotel Valhalla or return to Camp Half-Blood, but he urges the rest of the Seven that they will have to keep their experience secret.

The Seven think Leo will go back to Camp Half-Blood. After all, in their eyes, Camp is the place that Leo is most familiar with. It's the place that he should belong. This is his chance to take a clean break from his stay at Hotel Valhalla and return to Camp Half-Blood. Only Odin knows differently, while everyone on the 19th Floor, alongside Magnus and Co., is wondering if Leo really is going to drop them like a flaming bag of turd.

And Leo declines. In another lifetime, in another set of circumstances, he may have joined the Seven and returned to Camp Half-Blood. But now? Well... he would admit, he has grown to love Hotel Valhalla. Though he gets bodied daily, he feels included compared to the months he spent in Bunker Nine hammering away at the Argo II. He has friends with which he can actually be friends, compared to his time being the only person in a sea of couples. And maybe he's gotten attached to Magnus, but they didn't need to know that.

He doesn't say goodbye. With enough time, they can genuinely be friends instead of the coworker dynamic he always felt he had with the rest of the Argo II crew. So, instead, he hands Piper the last invention he made before his world was once again dominated by a quest to save the world. For a second, she thinks it's a remote. And in a way, it is. His name is written on it in ancient Greek. But it only has a single button, with a single rune.

ᛗ

Mannaz (For those more knowledgeable, please excuse me if I'm wrong and correct me) is the rune of humanity as a concept—of society, friendships, individuality, and a person's willingness to help one's fellow human. The intention is clear—he's always a button press away if they ever need help.

With that, the two pantheons go their separate ways. And hopefully, things should be at peace now. Right? Right? ... Right?

But as everyone knows, they aren't. The sun hasn't reached its final verse, Ragnarok still has many triggers, and people scheme to bring everything down behind the shadows. Peace is still a long way off. And Ragnarok will eventually eradicate the world. All everyone is doing is staving off the inevitable.

But then again, isn't that just part of being a demigod?

FIN

P.S. @pjowasmy1stfandom- I've cooked. Hope you enjoy the meal.

[ladylooch]

Green Devil with Nico Hischier

A/N: I’m feeling a lil angsty Nico RN. Like I love fluff, but I wanted a little bit of sass from him. 

This is part of What My World Spins Around AU. Catch the rest on my masterlist here.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: Swearing, jealousy, lil angsty, hinting at smut cause it’s me.

Tonight, I’m living.

Someone bought my coffee in line at the drive thru this morning. Nico is home, and my best friend from high school, Connor, is in town for work. I’ve been dying for Nico and Connor to meet since we started dating, but the timing never seemed to work until Connor texted me last week that he had some time on his next trip. Once I saw Nico was in town, I jumped at the offer.

“I’m really excited for you to meet Connor!” I bubble to Nico as we walk down the sidewalk towards a trendy, Tapas bar.

“Me too.” Nico responds as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I shiver, clutching his side to try and suck some of the warmth from his body. “Remember I need to leave by 9 though. If you want to stay later, that’s cool with me.” He grasps the handle of the door, opening it for me to walk in. He gives my ass a discreet slap as I go in front of him. I toss a suggestive look over my shoulder that he receives while biting his lip.

If I wasn’t so caught up in myself, I would have taken note of the immediate change in Nico when Connor and I rush to embrace each other. Connor wraps me in a tight hug that causes me to miss the irked expression on Nico’s face about how close his hands are to my ass.

“You look incredible.” Connor smiles widely, taking me in from head to toe. I pose for a second as a joke while he keeps his hands on my hips.

“Find a NHL captain and you too can be this happy.” I turn to Nico who has pasted a polite smile on his face that doesn’t quiet meet his eyes.  “Babe, this is Connor. Connor, Nico.”

“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Nico extends a hand. They shake firmly. Connor breaks first. 

“You too, man.” Connor juts his chin out in acknowledgment at Nico, then crosses his arms over his chest. “They’re just getting our table cleaned.”

“Oh, okay.” I nod. “So tell me all about Miami. I am dying to hear about your new condo.”

“Unreal views. You should come down next month. We can have a fun weekend together. Get wasted on expensive tequila like Cabo.”

“Oh my god, no.” I hide my face. 

“She legally cannot step foot in that resort again.” Connor says to Nico, snickering.

“Long story.” I shake my head, red tinging my cheeks. I’ve never told Nico about it because it’s still so cringy and embarrassing. Connor motions like he’s spewing vomiting. I slap his bicep to give him a warning. “Stop. Seriously.” 

Luckily, the host is ready to show us to our table. We spend the rest of the night chatting. Connor and I reminisce about our old high school friends we have lost touch with. We stalk their Facebook pages and Instagrams, laughing at how the more things change the more they stay the same in our hometown. Nico is quiet, but that’s normal with people he doesn’t know well. He seems to be content with fading into the background. At least I thought so.

“I think I’m going to head out.” Nico begins to put his jacket on as Connor and I look over the dessert drink menu. I turn to him, surprised. I check my Apple Watch, seeing it’s barely 8pm.

“Oh okay. Are you okay?” I ask, lowering my voice while I examining him for signs of distress. He seems fine. Maybe he’s just tired?

“Yep. Have a good night, baby.” He barely presses his lips to mine before he pulls away, leaving me with unsatisfied, puckered lips. He tells Connor it was great meeting him as he tosses a few hundred dollar bills on the table for the bill. When his body moves from beneath my fingers, I feel an uneasy chill from his absence. Something doesn’t feel right about this. Connor doesn’t notice and dives back into his persistence of me coming to visit him in Miami next month.

“Um…” I cut him off. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I say abruptly, grabbing my coat and purse before rushing to the front of the restaurant. The cold air blasts me, stealing my breath as I look to the left where Nico is about to turn into the parking lot.

“Nico.” I call after him, hustling to catch up with his long strides. “What is up with you?” I ask him breathlessly, reaching for his hand and pulling him to a stop. “And what was that kiss?” I wrinkle my nose in displeasure.

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.” His shoulders are rolled inwards as he talks to me, grimacing against the cold wind whipping down at us. I sigh, not liking the way he looks above my head.

“Neeks, you seem upset with me.”

“I’m not.” He shrugs, licking his lips and continuing to avoid eye contact. I cross my arms at his chilly attitude. A realization comes over me at the slight scowl on his face.

“Are you… jealous?” I ask with a small smile.

“No, just… have fun with your friend.” He scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks away from me and down the street. I can see his jaw tense as he grits his teeth.

“Wow….” I trail off with a breezy laugh. I step closer, biting my bottom lip. “You look pretty green for red being your team’s color.” I set my hands on his hips, wrapping my arms around his back. I secure myself to him tightly, resting my chin on his chest so I’m looking up at his face. “Babe, look at me.” I soften my voice so he knows I’m done teasing. He licks his lips exasperatedly, then turns his sour, scrunched face to me. I raise my eyebrows, signaling I’m waiting.

“Fuck yeah I’m jealous.” He finally scoffs out. At least he wraps his hands around me, pushing me tighter to him.

“Why?” I can’t even begin to fathom why he feels that way. He’s the sweetest, handsomest, dreamiest man I have ever laid eyes on.  

“I feel like he knows you better than me. And I hate that.” I snort, leaning forward to press my forehead to his chest. Nico silently watches me when I pull back.

“Every one of those jokes and stories are from before you.” I pause, waiting for him to soften. When he doesn’t, I continue. “He knows nothing about me anymore. You’re my life now. Not high school football games and Applebee’s late night happy hour.”

“But Miami?” He rolls his eyes.

“I won’t go. It’s obviously bothering you, so it’s not worth it. You’re my priority.”

We stare at each other until Nico finally sighs, looking away at the busy street behind me. I get closer, onto my tip toes, then tenderly pressing my lips on his throat. People pass around us, the world continuing on as we hold each other. I work my mouth up to the nook of his shoulder and neck. I open my mouth a little more, sucking his skin into my mouth. His shoulders relax, head meeting mine as his hands grip my back tighter. I pull away just before I mark him, pressing my nose to the wet spot. I run my hand across his shoulder to the back of his neck and cradle his head. A heavy exhale from him ends our hug.

“Okay.”

“Will you come back with me?” 

“No, but you should stay. For real. Spend time with him… then come home to me.” His eyes darken with hunger as he brushes my hair behind my ear, holding my cheek. I watch as he closes his eyes, then leans down to capture our lips together. This is the kiss I needed from him earlier. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the plumped skin. I’m intoxicated when we pull apart. I stare at the lapels of his jacket.

“Maybe… I wanna come home now.” He smirks at me as I pull my phone out and text Connor a quick lie. “I’m suddenly soooo sick.” Nico leans his head back to laugh towards the sky.

“Let’s go needy girl.”

[rush-the-stars]

cici if you have any predator/prey thoughts to spare for vash or nico,, or both,,

anon. i cannot sleep. this ask…….haunting me…..

cw: predator/prey, chasing

a/n: possessed by the thought of them chasing you down. this may be a glimpse at another reader/story of mine called shrikethorn….this reader is v shrikethorn!reader

***

dust kicks up with each stride you take.

you run for the hills; for the unforgiving desert and towards a horizon that you swear you know enough to follow back home.

the sky is burgundy—night will cover you, but you have to wait that long. you have to run for that long.

your lungs burn and throb—with this pace, you fear you won’t reach nightfall. you need the dark. right now, you’re open—a lone bird in a sky of sand. easy to pluck out of the sky.

the desert is unforgiving; the land itself seems to hinder your running. your footsteps sink into the sand, forcing you to push harder, to exert more of your strength.

you’re tiring yourself out.

but you don’t stop.

not until, over the dune, a dark figure emerges.

you skid to a stop, kicking up a wave of sand, trying to suddenly back peddle.

he has the advantage of the slope of the dune—

wolfwood descends on you.

fear kicks your body into overdrive and you push yourself harder, legs burning with how fast you whip around to run from him.

he chases.

if you can make it over the previous dune before he catches you, the down slide will help you gain distance.

you push for it.

you don’t dare look behind you, but you can sense him—you can hear the sound of the earth and his long strides.

just a little more—

hope glimmers like the sun in its last dance in the sky.

at the top, a flash of red.

a body that collides with yours—you both go tumbling into the sand. and you’d know him anywhere, would know the metal arm and the uncanny, frightening strength.

you fight with all your might.

“easy—easy, come on.” vash says as he wrestles with you, “it’s okay—it’s okay.”

you buck and kick and sneer. you pull at him and shove him and bite him.

“we don’t have to fight—“ vash says, taking your teeth in his forearm with only a little yelp, a smattering of sound you hear in his chest, “i don’t want to fight, angel, come on—“

and for all your thrashing, he still overpowers you rather easily. and then he has you, back to his chest, your body cradled in the crux of his, as he wrestles you still against him.

he holds you tight against him.

your teeth are still bared, still snarling, when wolfwood approaches.

“told ya that’d work.” he says. “flushed her out like a fox.”

you try to kick at him and he sidesteps easily.

“don’t rub it in, wolfwood.” vash says, still holding you tight, but his voice is by your ear. you’d shiver if you weren’t sweating.

you’re heaving still, vash’s forearm so tight against your sternum that it’s almost hard to suck in air. you must look like a mess—like a wild animal.

“you’re quick, if it makes you feel better.” wolfwood says to you, bending to be on your level. to look you in the eyes. “just like a fox, too.”

you thrash like you might lash out at him, baring your sharp teeth at him as if to prove a point.

“watch who you’re talking too—“ you snap as vash holds you back, cooing to you. trying to soothe your temper or your feral, fighting urge to break free.

“let’s you get back to camp,” he says gently, “we’ll feed you.” he promises.

“i don’t need it.” you bite out. “let me go—let me go back to nai.”

vash sighs, sorry and sad, squeezing you.

“you know i can’t do that.” he says gently.

“let’s go,” wolfwood says, standing and looking out towards the distance. “the suns setting. i don’t want to be hauling her in the dark.”

and then he produces a set of handcuffs—sturdy and silver, gleaming in the last rays of the sun. your own trap, your own collar.

“time to clip your wings, birdie.” wolfwood says and though you fight—you’re no match for the both of them.

you look out into the sky, plum dark and ripening, and vow you’ll get back out there—

you’ll get back to nai—

even if they chase you all the way there—even if they hunt you like dogs after a fox.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 1, Poll 12

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave here.

Tunuva Melim-A Day of Fallen Night (Roots of Chaos)

Qualifications:

She's canonically lesbian and has PTSD.

Propaganda:

Genuinely, this is my favorite traumatized lesbian grandma. She cannot catch a break in life so please give her some support here.

Pollrunner note: sorry, she’s probably not gonna get a break here either.

Nico di Angelo- Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Qualifications:

Canonically gay with ADHD and dyslexia.

Propaganda:

Listen. He's a classic.

[newobsessioneveryweek]

You have an story idea where Travis dies !

Tell me more 👀 (even though it makes me so sad when one of the full siblings die 😭, like Fred and George Weasley. Only reason I liked that the Stolls are background characters is that Rick didn’t thought it was necessary to kill of them, my heart would have been broken)

That's so valid😭😂 Rick, keep them alive so we can give them the spotlight ourselves. No deaths required, stay back Riordan!

Okay okay okay! I'm so glad you asked, Coco!

This idea has gone through several very tragic iterations and all of them are still equally eligible to be written :]

But the one that started it all goes as follows:

Like I said in the previous post where I mentioned the idea, this takes place before and during the TOA series

After the Battle with Gaea, Connor has a nightmare of Travis dying in some huge battle

This happens literally the night before Travis has to leave for college

Connor begs him on his knees to stay but Travis just reassures him that everything is fine and that there's no need to worry about the war anymore

Reluctantly Connor lets him go.

So Travis goes to college (in New Rome because I cannot be arsed to do my research on American universities and because it's convenient for the plot. VERY convenient indeed)

Connor feels infinitely more secure knowing he's brother is safe in a protected area and doesn't have to fight monsters all the time out in the mortal world

He's still sad that he's gone and goes through the mourning period as one does when your person is snatched from you by the cruelties of adulthood

But after that he's less moody and depressed

That is until that nightmare returns after a few weeks and this time it's way more vivid and terrifying

This happens out of nowhere too!

Just, one night, all of a sudden, BAM! Your brother is going to die horribly in battle and you won't even be there to say goodbye

Obvious panic attack ensues

He calls Travis via IM and he answers. This occurs during the witching hour (aka, go-tf-to-sleep o'clock) so Travis wakes up with the full intent to tell his brother to piss off because he's got a huge test at 8AM and needs to sleep

But then he notices the clear distress on his brother's face and changes course

Connor tells him about the dream and Travis does his best to comfort him

Does the whole "the war is over", "no, no monsters have appeared at all", "yes everything is fine and I'm fine and nothing bad is going to happen here ever" spiel and finally Connor calms down and goes back to sleep

But the nightmares keep happening

Connor keeps calling his brother

Travis keeps doing his best to calm him down

But it's getting tiring so after a week of this he decides "fuck it, I'm never sleeping again.”

He stays awake for three whole days, much to the dislike of literally everyone

He barely eats more than what is necessary to keep him alive

At one point Will tries to drug him

At another he has Clovis knock him out

*This idea coincides/collaborates with another fic I've got on the old to-do list btw. That fic begins here. I shan't explain it but basically Connor, Will, and Nico go on a quest :]

When they get back it's to communications being down

When the dream happens again Connor is convinced it's more than a dream and tried to call his brother

It doesn't go through

Connor decides "fuck it" again and breaks into the Big House to use Chiron's phone

This doesn't work either and Chiron catches him in the living room in a state of sheer terror and asks what's going on

Connor tells him everything that happened in his dream/vision and Chiron tries to convince him that it was just a nightmare

Neither of them believe that but Connor lets it go and instead opts to panic in silence because Chiron clearly isn't helping

He tries IMs again in the morning but still nothing

He is now in a perpetual bad mood

Then people start disappearing

Cecil disappears

Everything in life sucks

Then Apollo shows up!

They find Cecil but now he is this 🤏🏻 close to just taking the Grey Sisters' taxi to California to bring Travis back to camp but Chiron reminds him that he has a responsibility to his cabin as their councillor and he stays

After all, he can't have a repeat of what just happened to Cecil

TOA happens. The Tyrant's Tomb takes place

Travis… dies in the battle at New Rome

Apollo mentions in the book that he remembered the faces and names of everyone who died in the battle or something like that

And he notices a familiar face among the casualties

And realises he has a call to make now that communications are up and running

He chickens out and IMs Will instead to deliver the message

The following interaction ensues (basically)

Apollo: Can you pass on a message to Connor--

Will: Oh, Connor? He's right here!

Apollo, panicking: Oh, no, actually, it can wait--

Will, calling Connor over: Connor, it's for you!

Connor, leaning into the frame: Oh! Hi, Apollo! Will said you wanted to tell me something? Oh, wait, are you at New Rome? Is Travis around? Can you tell him to call me when he's not busy?

Oh boy

What's the worst mental breakdown you've ever experienced? *Insert here*

There's no happy-go-lucky way to end this but the absolute best thing I can do to soften the heart-wrenching angst of such content is to summon forth the Chthonic aspects of Hermes for my own selfish purposes and let Connor say goodbye to his brother or have Nico deliver the message

It's also a huge deal that they would cremate his body at a Roman camp in the Roman tradition and Connor demands that they bring his body home so they can say goodbye properly because Travis is Greek! He's Greek! He's not supposed to be there and it's so unfair that they get to say goodbye to him. Why do they get to see him off and not him? They're strangers! They're not even his real family-- not even his brother! Why can't Connor say goodbye?

Connor says all this during his breakdown btw because fuck if that's not true

Imagine not even being able to do the proper funeral rites for your own brother

Imagine some randoms from another culture take that away from you

I would be pissed

Also, Will is a very supportive friend in the midst of this

In another iteration Connor never tells Travis about the dream so when it actually comes true he convinces himself that he killed his brother

That he should have warned him about the battle

That if he had told him Travis would have come back or he could have prepared better or the whole thing could have been avoided in some way

In yet another iteration

Apollo doesn't share the news until after he gets his godhood back

In yet another iteration, Apollo doesn't share the news at all! Percy and Annabeth do

They find out what happened when they get to New Rome themselves after their quest

Please let me know what you think☺️ and thank you for taking an interest in my ideas my friend 🫶🏻🩷

[1moreff-creator]

Brain go brr on the Q&A

+Xander trying to hide his piercing from his school is so him, I love it.

+Listen, I don't want to overthink the Q&A too much, but my brain won't let me be normal about some things. The birthday thing caught my eye. Supposedly, some of the dates are important, but the rest are meant to be spread out, right? But Veronika and David's birthdays are, like, two days apart, so does that mean they're important? Same with Ace and Arei (ike three days), but at least Ace's birthday is Halloween so it's not hard to figure out. I don't remember most of the other birthdays, so I don't know if there's more examples.

+Why is this the "new David"'s default sprite? Is he so smug it runs all the way to his default pose? What.

+David can cook, malewife status confirmed. Also, "how does he handle his feelings? Badly" That's hilarious.

+New info on the Spurlings! This is getting outta hand, now there's two of them! I'm really intrigued as to what the hell their deal is. And Duke could have been alive during the Tragedy? What are we implying here? So many questions!

+Ace is officially gay! Many people are happy with this development. Though I have to ask, did anyone ship him with any woman? Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen that. Anyways, not like it matters now!

+Pan Veronika, pan Veronika, pan Veronika yes! I love it! New headcanon; she just dates/has sex with anyone she thinks will be entertaining to date/fuck. "Bit-sexual", as internet funnyman Alpharad would put it.

+I swear the David sexuality thing is an actual quote from somewhere. Hold on.

Found it! Not the exact wording, but Andrew Garfield said something like it once. I love it, it's perfect for David!

+So Charles' scar is a dog bite, but he doesn't remember and thinks it's a birthmark? Is it... related to his brother's death? Dev, what. You can't just say things like that and then not elaborate. /j

+Levi with a sweet tooth is fantastic. I think it was already implied in his profile, but it's still great!

+Alright, about favorite colors:

Teruko: red (reasoning: association)

So... Xander or Mai? I'm leaning towards Mai, frankly.

Charles: "Why would I assign emotional value to colors? That's a ridiculous waste of energy." (cerulean)

That quote is hilarious. And now I can't help but imagine Charles unironically writing "cerulean orbs" in a fanfic-

Whit: neon pink (reasoning: "Pink!!")

God, I love these characters.

J: black (reasoning: cool)

I wouldn't expect less.

Nico: none (reasoning: no interest)

I honestly kinda love this, but also what does it mean.

Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning)

Acevi shippers are eating today, holy.

Arei: azure (reasoning: "I'm blue, so clearly it's the best color!")

Why did you have to die?

Min: taupe (reasoning: comforting)

Min information: absorbed. Love it. Also her design has a lot of taupe (I think) so it's comforting to me too.

Veronika: white in conjunction with other colors (reasoning: brings out other colors well)

Huh.

Alright, now least favorite:

Whit: gray (reasoning: boring)

Alright, tone it down, Kamukura.

Rose: none (reasoning: all colors have their value in the right situations)

Fantastic, I adore this.

Eden: blue (reasoning: "Kind of a downer color...")

Areden shippers in shambles. How would you say this about your girlfriend's color, Eden?

J: pink (reasoning: obvious)

If you listen closely, you'll hear Whit's heart breaking in the distance. But this is expected.

Hu: blueish white (reasoning: sterile)

This is Arturo's fave. Are we setting up a foil thing here? I'd honestly love to see it, Arturo and Hu may be the characters I want to see the most of after maybe Veronika.

Nico: white (reasoning: unsettling)

Nico, what- what the hell are you talking about?

Ace: titian (reasoning: doesn't like himself)

Ouch.

Min: white and pink together (reasoning: annoying)

Dude, Whit cannot stop catching L's here, what is going on. Anyways, Min info absorbed.

Veronika: white in the absence of other colors (reasoning: soulless)

So, this is pretty interesting and all that... but she dislikes the same color as Nico? The Vero-Nico dynamic grows stronger! You love to see it. Or I love to see it, I adore them as friends/spiritual siblings.

+Ace has nine siblings?! That's a lot of kids!

+Nico cuts their own hair, and gets the cat ear things to stay up? Ultimate Hairdresser in the bulding!

+

Veronika's single green earring is a 'good luck charm' given to her by her dearest friend.

Aafgsj- Who?! Okay, first, I didn't even realize she had that, so thanks for pointing it out. Second, you can't just say that! Because you know I'm gonna assume that's Mai, especially with it being a 'good luck' charm when Mai is (kinda) the antithesis of Teruko and thus (kinda) the antithesis of bad luck. Am I to assume Veronika will be plot relevant now? Because I sure hope she is! I wasn't supposed to overthink the Q&A, dev, but look at what you're doing to me!

+Now the ice cream flavors:

Charles - coffee

This is actually stated in his profile. You gotta admire the consistency.

Hu - rose

Honey, wake up, a new random ship based on one (1) detail just dropped. It's a pretty cute one, too.

Nico - "the flavor" (doesn't elaborate further)

What is Nico doing in this Q&A? What am I supposed to gather from this?

Min - lemon

Min info drop spotted. I'm very normal about this character.

Xander - sauerkraut???

Xander, what the fuck are you talking about.

Veronika - funfetti

Honestly love this. White with other colors, right? It's perfect!

+Rose's painting preferences are cool to know, and she does give off a bit of middle child vibes, idk why. And two moms? Pog.

+That concept art! DRDT would have ended a lot earlier if Arei simply had a gun.

+Smells! (which of you people-)

Veronika - Womanly perfume (heavy)

I... was not expecting that! But it's Veronika info, so I absorb it. I kinda like the idea.

Nico - Cat

The more I learn about Nico, the more I love them.

Min - Lavender/eucalyptus/lemons/whatever essential oil she decided to use that day

W-Why does she use essential oils? I guess they must help her relax, because there's no way she actually believes they have any other benefit. Unexpected, but it's neat.

Whit - Fruity fun shampoo (for kids)

Yeah, yeah.

+Interesting that the Spurling Foundation and XF-Ture Tech don't have any connection, I guess that post I made on Min's secret is slightly outdated. Still, XF-Ture Tech "seems to do a lot of other things", huh? Peculiar.

I loved this Q&A, it was so much fun! I hope something like this is done again in the future, it's great.

[luvhughes43]

blair ik that we shouldnt really be talking about sad blake but i just had a thought that i wanted to ask about.

idk if you've ever seen dance moms but i can imagine the relationship between blake and her ex coach kinda like abby and maddie.

blake was the skating protegee, she gave up everything for skating and i think being isolated from her friends and family really allowed her to be emotionally manipulated. i think her ex coach would have def blammed her family for a. not being around enough when she was a kid for focusing on her brothers and never really being there and when blake gives out her side of the story about the abuse she faced she just blames her family and friends for manipulating her. i think she would have also been really disappointed by her ending her skating career (because the coach is just heartless like that) and put her on blast throughout the interview which is so incredibly sad. poor girl has been thro the miler

i'm so sorry for this long and incessant thought if this wasn't necessarily a topic that u wanna talk about for being heavy but i just wanted to share what i thought. you genuinely have such a wondrous way with words in your blurbs/au's and it really opens up interpretations into ur oc's <3<3

no we can talk about sad blake all day its one of my fav genres !!

heavy on being manipulated! she was in a complete different state from her family (she lived with her aunt, but still) and her coach was the only real stable influence she had which was obviously awful for blake. her ex coach shares all of this on her 'defamation' series and blames the family for not being around for blake and thus causing the coach to take on the role of being 'family' for blake. basically blames them for her toxicity while also denying it happened (truly a joyous person)

its such a messy situation. the coach basically blames blake for quitting even though she literally had no choice ! she also blames blake for not having a career anymore after blake didn't renew her contract (she stops coaching blake when blake turns 18 - and she gets injured at 19 under a new coach) because a bunch of the ex coach's other skaters came out about the abuse and of course blakes name was highlighted.

its really hard for blake because this interview comes out when shes like 23/24 so about 4-5 years after she left skating and has been trying to heal. then suddenly everything is being brought back up for the world to judge. plus her family and extended family are just bombarding her with apologies and explanations and she just cannot handle everything. theres too many emotional sit-down chats and it comes to a point where she just has to get away from everything.

she literally begs nico to take her away to switzerland so she could catch a break which he of course does.

never apologize for sending anything in!!! i love all the long thoughts so much i literally cannot begin to explain how much joy it brings me !! i will talk about absolutely anything (esp the blake au🤭) so pls feel free to send me any thought i eat it up every time !! im ranting now but youre so sweet🫂🫶 thank you so much for your compliments <333 truly the highest compliment i'm so happy youre interpreting my writing <3 means the world