#percy with purple framed glasses??!?

[beekekies]

the voices made me do it..

This was initially just a sketch, but i rendered it last night after me and my mum went mad about losing our internet..

Admittedly i did go insane while reading ao3 before all this

[hollisxwrites]

could you write a percy x daughter of dionysus reader? 🧎‍♀️🙏🏼

lay all your love on me

AGED UP percy jackson x daughter of dionysus! reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: inspired by the "lay all your love on me" scene in momma mia!, just take out the funny background dancers. pretty spicy, not fully on smut, but definitely some heavy making out and innuendos. underwater kissing, mention of underage drinking and the reader being a little bit of a troublemaker, some language, possibly can be seen as slightly angst at the beginning with some little bitty bit of jealously. i really like this one!

summary: the reader is bored on a beach day with her boyfriend, percy, so she decides to tease him a little bit, which ends up with her and her boyfriend making out on the ocean floor LMAO.

Laughter filled the air as my boyfriend, Percy, and I sprawled out on the beach of Camp. It was one of the rare days of peace we had at Camp, a beautiful, glorious, Sunday. Percy looked stunning, as always, the sun warming his freckled face, and the sea making his already perfect hair even curlier. His swim trunks, even though they had unicorns in shark onesies on them, clung to his figure perfectly. I took a sip of my champagne that we had managed to steal out of the cabinet that my dad kept near his desk, and I tried to pry my eyes away from Percy. He was chattering out about something that had happened with the younger campers the day before, watching the waves from his perch against a rock. I wanted to distract him from the mundane talk of camp, so I decided I would mess with the boy a little bit.  

I stood up from where I sat near Percy and pulled off the oversized tee shirt that I had on over my swimsuit. The swimsuit was plum purple, and I knew Percy loved it, he made it abundantly clear every time I wore it. I stood near the water, about ten or eleven feet away from Percy when his conversation finally died down. “You look...beautiful, dear gods.” He choked out, his voice straining a little bit.  

I smiled and adjusted my hair, so it framed my face. “Thank you, darling.” I took another swig out of my champagne flute and turned so my back was to Percy. Soon enough, just as I expected, Percy was beside me. He moved to put his hand on my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I looked over and saw the little pout on his face, and knew my mission was already succeeding.  

“I noticed you talking to Connor a lot yesterday, what’s that about?” Percy asked, his tone almost a little bitter, even though I could tell by his demeanor that he was joking with me. 

I shrugged. “I lived in the Hermes cabin for a long time, Mr. D never wanted to claim me because he didn’t want to have to punish his own daughter. I used to get into a lot of trouble at Camp.” 

Percy chuckled at this. “Oh, I know. What did Connor want, though? You guys don’t usually talk like that.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Perc.” I looked him in the eye. “He was just asking me if I knew who had stable duties this week, since we both are in trouble with Chiron right now.” 

Percy sighed, letting his eyes wander down my figure, which sent electric shock through my entire body. “Okay, I’m just not used to being so jealous. Any guy I see talk to you feels like a potential threat.” He moved closer to me, our fingers millimeters away from touching. 

“You have no reason to be afraid of other guys. You know I’ve only ever had eyes for you. You have all my love.” I said, comforting the boy. 

He nodded at this. “Sorry, I feel so possessive of you sometimes, you’re just so fucking beautiful, I know any guy would want to have you, but you’re mine.”    

A shiver ran down my spine. “That’s why I love you so much, Perc. That is exactly how I am with you. I don’t want anyone else to even look at you.” 

Percy leaned down a little bit, probably trying to kiss me, and I connected our noses, but never our lips. I moved away, pushing his muscular chest a little, and went to take a sip from the glass still in my hand. He smirked a little bit, finally catching onto the game I was playing with him. I set the glass down in the sand, and walked further into the water, thus further away from Percy. I flipped myself so I was facing him again. “Don’t go wasting your emotion, Perc. Lay all your love on me!”  

He giggled, obviously getting the ABBA reference I was making here. “Okay, miss disco queen.”  

I laughed, getting close enough to kiss him again. This time, just our top lips touch before I pull away and move back to the rock we were leaning against earlier. Perched again on the rock, I looked Percy in the eye. His eyes wandered once again to my figure in the swimsuit, but not in a way that made me uncomfortable, in fact, he made me feel so loved with his gaze. He moved towards me this time, and finally brought us together into a real kiss. My back pressed against the cool surface of the rocks, and I was fully immersed in the kiss. His hands went to my waist, pulling my chest flesh against his, causing my entire body to feel ignited by his touch.  

He separated us, leaving me panting and my knees weak. “Two can play this game, disco queen.” He ran off into the water, diving into the depths of the salty sea. 

“Not fair!” I shouted out after him, still trying to compose myself after the earth-shattering kiss we shared. Sure, as a Dionysus kid, I may have a lot of wit and a lot of charm, but I could not breath underwater like Percy could. Suddenly, I saw a mop of blond curls pop up from the water about half a mile into the distance. “Percy Jackson!” I yelled again. 

I saw, or at least I thought I did, him flipping me off from the distance, and that made the desire in me to catch him even stronger. I hopped in the water and started to paddle my arms, quiet poorly, trying aimlessly to catch up with the boy. I felt a hand grab my calf, and I yelped as I was pulled into the water. I came face to face with Percy. I hated to say it, but he looked even more attractive underwater, if that was even possible. His lips met mine, once again, and due to his touch and manipulation of the water, I could breathe, ish. His hands gripped me, pulling me further down into the dingy water. Being underwater with Percy was always a thrill, especially when we were making out like this, tongues clashing and hands being nowhere and everywhere all at once. When he finally parted from me, both of us were panting like dogs. “Gods, I love you.” 

I giggled, pressing a lingering kiss into his jawline. “I love you, too.”  

He bit his lip as I continued to press kisses into his jaw, his neck, and eventually his collarbones. Maybe it was the champagne going to my head, or maybe it was my handsome boyfriend, but I had never been happier than I was in this moment. My kisses went lower and lower down his abdomen, and I’m sure what you can guess what happened next. 

But, as they say, what happens in the ocean stays in the ocean, or something like that.    

[beekekies]

MR BLUE EYES N ORANGE CURLY HAIR!!!

At the end I tried to combine the two hair styles and this is how it turned out. I don’t know how to colour but I tried my best.

It more straight than curly but idk how curly hair works-

[alloarocharactershowdown]

While these characters are not continuing on to the next round, they have done a good job making it this far! News about Round 4 below as well

Lord Dominator

[ID: Lord Dominator from Wander Over Yonder. She is a humanoid pale-green skinned alien with white hair, bright pink eyes (sclera), red freckles/spots, thick black eyeliner that is drawn to resemble running teardrops, and black lipstick. She wears a black helmet topped with giant serrated yellow horns and black spiked shoulder pads. She smiles in excitement. End ID]

L Lawliet

[ID: L from Death Note. He is a very slim, pale, young Japanese man with messy neck-length black hair and black eyes. He looks toward the viewer. End ID]

Ashton Greymoore

[ID: Ashton from Critical Role. He has green stone skin and short, dark-purple crystal hair. They have a prominent hole in the left side of their head filled with slag glass, through which an opalescent brain can be seen, and the eye on the cracked side of Ashton's head is milky white. There are cracks across Ashton's left side, patched together with what looks like slag melted gold (like kintsugi). He has a smirk. End ID]

Benrey

[ID: Benrey from Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware. Benrey is a security guard shown wearing a blue button-up shirt and black tie with a bulletproof vest over top. On top of his head, he wears a helmet. He has pale skin and no visible hair. End ID]

Thalia Grace

[ID: Thalia Grace from Percy Jackson and the Olympians. She is pale teenage girl with shoulder-length, spiky black hair and dark blue eyes. She wears a black leather jacket with spiked shoulder pads, skull earrings, and a silver circlet on her head. She has freckles across her face. She holds a spear and shield with the face of Medusa on it. End ID]

Willow Park

[ID: Willow Park from the Owl House. She is a chubby teenage girl who has light skin, pointed ears, olive green eyes and dark navy-blue hair which is tied into twin pigtails and has a pale green streak dyed into it. She wears a pair of round gold-framed glasses. She sports a sleeveless yellowish-tan vest over a mid-length sleeved pale green shirt with a gold button, white collar and cuffs. She has her blue tie with a gold gem on it. End ID]

Rita

[ID: Rita from the Penumbra Podcast. She is a middle-aged woman who wears glasses and has her hair tied up in a ponytail. She excitedly steers a vehicle. End ID]

Yor Forger

[ID: Yor Forger from Spy X Family. She is graceful young woman who has long, straight, black hair reaching her mid-back with short bangs framing her forehead and upturned red eyes. She splits her hair into two parts and crosses it over her head, securing it with a headband and forming two thick locks of hair that reach below her chest. She wears a form-fitting halter-style black dress that shows off her shoulders and cleavage. She also wears black fingerless gloves. The headband she wears is gold colored with a rose and two spikes on each side. Her weapons are of the same color as well. End ID]

Congratulations to them for making it as far as they did! Round 4 will begin this week.

[skaiakin]

hi ! im a little in tuxsys, but i dont have a name! (i mean. i have one, but not an internet one!) i was wondering if i could ask for some suggestions, and a pesterquest sprite edit off nepeta? if thats okay?

for things about me, im a little bit shy around new people, but im really chatty when im with my friends! i like pretending im a cat, reading (like hunger games/percy jackson/maximum ride), singing, jumping, swinging, swimming, drawing and rping with my twin! i also like climbing trees.

(i feel like im if nepeta and jade were the same guy !)

for what i look like im like if nepeta was a human with long hair like jades but dirty blonde! and instead of olive green and blue clothes i like purpley-violet coat and emerald green hat ! i wear rectangle purple glasses with yellow in the frame, and im always blushing and i have our rainbow fanny pack also :3. can i also have a couple of random scratches/bruises from playing outside?

thank you so so much !!! you dont have to do all the things i said if you dont want to also, i dont know how much im allowed to ask for together. anyway thank you again! - 💜💜

your per2terque2t 2priite ediit ha2 been po2ted. 2orry ii couldn't iinclude the hat, ii hope iit'2 ok wiithout iit. ii al2o wa2n't 2ure what 2kiintone two u2e, 2o ii opted for the blank whiite that jade'2 pe2terque2t 2priite ha2. and here'2 a 2mall 2et of name 2ugge2tiion2 for you:

(your persterquest sprite edit has been posted. sorry i couldn't include the hat, i hope it's ok without it. i also wasn't sure what skintone to use, so i opted for the blank white that jade's pesterquest sprite has. and here's a small set of name suggestions for you:)

Cricket — generally a name associated with energetic behavior and playfulness.

Millie — a popular cat name, meaning gentle strength.

Rue — can mean herbs, friends and neighbours. Also a character from the Hunger Games.

PJ — specifically meant to reference cat's pajamas, which is a catmint hybrid.

Nala — another popular pet cat name, meaning queen and lion.

Chase — also spelt "Chace" in some cases, meaning hunter.

hope the2e 2uiit you, and thank2 for waiitiing. enjoy.

(hope these suit you, and thanks for waiting. enjoy.)

[littlebosslady7]

read The Home We Built. Can you describe Grey Hunt manor more?

Sure. That story is here. I know this probably or rather most definitely isn't architecturally sensical or sound, but to be fair, it changes depending on what fits in the story.

The outside is painted in gray of course, archery range off to the side. The front door, just a single door, blue. We enter through the foyer. Sometimes the walls are plain white or a pale yellow in my mind. There's a chandelier with a wood frame and elven crystals that appear branch like.

The living room has various paintings of snowdrops and blue roses done by both Percy and Keyleth. There's racks on the wall for Vex, Wolfe, and Leona to hang their bows, arrows, quivers, and whatnots. It's never used by Vex or the kids. LOL. They have a family portrait comissioned by a young artist named Genevive above the fireplace.

The kitchen has arched, rounded windows that allow for a lot of natural light. They have a massive kitchen island, the best quality stove, and a new fangled tall ice box. The door to that looks more like wood paneling. They have a nook with a round table by the window. Arrowheads, nicks on the island, and a few old food stains when the kids didn't want to eat their vegetables give the kitchen some character.

The hallway has each of the kids rooms'. Vesper's room is a lot of pinks and lavenders. She has huge parchment posters of her favorite musical artists of a pink troll, a purple tiefling, and a blue orc in a newsboy cap. All either old timey typewriter or calligraphy font.

The twins, they share. They argue about wanting to their own rooms on occasion, but to honest neither can sleep without Wolfe's snoring or the quiet little hoots, mid-slumber wing flaps from Leona's snow owl. They do have a deep purple curtain divider for privacy. Their walls are a rich coffee mocha color. Their parents decided that so there would be no arguments. Wolfe's side has a couple fencing trophies. Books on werewolves. Crude, for a 13-14 yr old wolf drawings under his bed. He has a few crude pamphlets/comic strips he stole from Uncle Scanlan. Men, women, NB individuals posing a bit too sexy. He thinks he can hide it well, but Vex and Percy catch on it and find it when they're with their tutors. Leona has archery trophies and a couple medals on their nightstand. They have books on fey and a series about a fairy/changeling royal romace on their shelves. Their floor is covered in multi-colored bowties, arrow parts, and dusty glasses cleaner clothes. Wolfe's is even worse. The boy leaves leftover food breakfast in bowls by his alarm clock.

Danny has mint green walls, a warm mural of a cherry tree and a friendly raven in it designed by Auntie Kiki. He has a toy box filled with various animal plushes and wooden airships/carriages. He has what starts out as the size of a doggy bed for Charlie, but eventually the cub needs let's say a sturdy twin bed. Percy and Vex ocassionally take away his lock picking kit he got from Auntie Pike, but a 4 year old boy and his trusty bear have ways.

Gwen has white walls with the mural of the two moons Catha and Ruidus. She has lots of fun baby books, rattles that change color, teething rings shaped like various animals -- bears, bees, lizard bee ect. She has blocks in the Infernal alphabet and bracelets, hats, and old clothes from Aunt Zee and Uncle Kash's twin girls. Her crib has little bite marks, especially when her fangs popped out. Her mobile has the stars.

Percy and Vex's master bedroom has their massive king sized bed, but honestly it's a bit more lumpy on Percy's side cuz Vex likes to spoon with both her legs tangled around him and her ear pressed to his left pec. They have Percy's short swords above their bed, which Vex isn't always fond of. Though they have come in handy. But it's a better, tamer visual of what they used to have before kids. A painting done by Percy in silhouette of Vex naked. Percy just saves that for his sketchbook now. They have a bed for Trinket that the kids will sometimes use. Lots of long cushions and sleeping bags tucked away in the closet for the kids. Their walls are cream colored. They have a little purple love seat, blue throw pillows, and a little table/tea cart for any warm drink.

Master closet is self explanatory. His and hers side. Massive dresser in the center with a few locked drawers for sexier things/hidden weapons.

Balcony on Vex's side of the room cuz she likes nature.

Second level has Percy and Vex's home office/study/quiet space. The walls are lined with tall shelves of books about various creatures, magical fauna surrounding the Parchwood. There's a secret short door for Trinket. Percy has his telescope in there. Vex has a few maps from her scouting. They have 2 separate desk where they go over the kids' schoolwork and expenses for the castle.

Percy's workshop covered in gears, tools, ect. He has a bunch of the kid's drawings, a small vase of seasonal flowers from Keyleth, letters piled from Pike and Scanlan, a long assembly desk, a literal drawing board, and there's a dropdown couch/sofa bed tucked away in a tall metal cabinet.

Pantry is self explanatory. They do have canned doughs from Pike, healthy cereals, fresh herbs, and veg. They also occasionally store a few gifts they hate in there.

Laundry room self explanatory, though they do have huge basins with enchanted washboards.

Vex and Percy have a spare room on the lower level, where they spar. They fence for fun, or honestly they do calming breathing exercises. Can't let those battle senses dull in times in peace.

Their bathroom not as spacious as the castle, but decent copper tub, chamber pot with a beaded cord to flush their waste.

The backyard has a swingset, sandbox, and a moderately sized airship (play house). A few of the kitchen staff live in a small, but easily livable bungalow between the lake and farm.

Lastly, they have secret doors that connect to various rooms.

[lucianinsanity-only-art]

He compartido 451 publicaciones este 2022

¡Son 427 más que en 2021!

50 publicaciones originales (11 %)

401 reblogueos (89 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@lucianinsanity

@taysudon

@pocketsizedquasar

@a-hobit

He etiquetado 418 publicaciones en 2022

Solo el 7 % de mis publicaciones no incluye ninguna etiqueta

#other people fanart: 228 publicaciones

#no id: 200 publicaciones

#bnha: 125 publicaciones

#tma: 97 publicaciones

#luci an's art: 63 publicaciones

#other people art: 42 publicaciones

#fanart: 19 publicaciones

#tma fanart: 19 publicaciones

#the magnus archives: 17 publicaciones

#tma the magnus archives: 17 publicaciones

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#he grew a lot from being an imagination of a boy i liked to literally being a half elf half energy creature surgeon that can make people-

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

[ID: Several digital character sheets of TMA characters as teens in a Percy Jackson AU. The background is a light blue.

The first one is Jonathan Sims. Jon is a thin latin american young man with medium brown skin, wavy greying brown hair. He uses glasses. He has a long scar on his neck, various smaller scars on his face and hands and two longer scars on his left elbow. He has a purple bag and is holding a knife, and is looking nervously to the side. He is wearing a CHB "Camp Half-Blood" T shirt and dark jeans.

The text on his sheets reads "Name: Jonathan "Jon" Sims, Age: 14, Height: 1,57, God: Atenea. History: Jon was tormented by spiders his whole childhood, he is found and brought to the camp where the spider attacks stop, but he still has to confront that, or so the oracle says. He was recognized by his mother when he gets to the camp at the age of 9. He still visits his grandmother but mostly just stays in the camp where monsters can't find him. Extra: He is extremely curious, he had some missions on the outside and came back with minimal scars (usually something spider related)".

The second one is Martin Blackwood. Martin is a chubby white young man with blonde hair, brown eyes, and freckles. He has some scars in his hands. He is smiling nervously and wearing a CHB T shirt and jeans.

His text reads "Name: Martin Blackwood, Age: 15, Height: 1,49, God: Unknown (Apollo). History: He was found fighting a monster by Sasha, who helps him get to the camp safe. He is still new and in the Hermes cabin while he waits for his divine parent decides to claim him (he wants for his mother to not be his real mother, but he knows is a hopeless matter). Extra: he survived on his own for a long time thanks to an interest on mythology that was very useful when fighting with monsters or tests. He likes poetry and tries to write some. After he discovers his father is Apollo he tries to justify his poetry with this fact but he actually has healing abilities." End ID]

Descúbrela

45 notas. Fecha de publicación: 17 de enero de 2022

4

[ID: an illustration of the YouTube channel of Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku called Wonder Duo, only the backgrounds of the videos appears colored. The first video on the list is a short with the title "Yes, we are married!!!", the number of views is 420, the thumbnail shows a screaming Bakugou being kissed in the head by Midoriya. The second video is titled "QnA (Part 2) More questions", the number of views is 6.9k, the thumbnail shows Midoriya, on the left, over a blue background, with a surprised expression pointing at a text that reads "we live together?", Bakugou, on the right, is looking forward, he seems bored. The third video is titled "QnA (Part 1) Wonder Duo" with 1M views, the thumbnail shows Midoriya and Bakugou over an orange background, smiling at the camera showing their right hands, they have a black ring in the middle finger, there's a text over their heads that reads "we are both ace". The last video is titled "Spice challenge, Wonder Duo + Friends" with 3M views, the thumbnail is red with Midoriya's crying face and the text "So Spicy" in all caps.

Midoriya has a round face framed by a short mess of fluffy dark-green hair. He has large and circular eyes, their irises the same green color as his hair. He has a set of four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, one on each cheek.

Bakugou has short, spiky, sandy blonde hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. He is using hearing aids. End ID]

Couldn't resist with the ace headcanons, I just think they are neat

I'm also very stressed by the waiting for next chapter so I might as well post all my drafts on bkdk

51 notas. Fecha de publicación: 20 de marzo de 2022

3

[ID: two illustrations with a text over them that say "Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being Autistic". The first one has Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki, the second one has Iida Tenya and Todoroki Shoto, all of them from Boku no hero academia. Izuku and Katsuki are looking to the front and posing for a picture, they are holding their left hands and Izuku is doing a peace sign. Tenya and Shoto are holding hands and looking at each other lovingly.

Midoriya has a round face framed by a short mess of fluffy dark-green hair. He has large and circular eyes, their irises the same green color as his hair. He has a set of four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, one on each cheek. He is wearing a white t-shirt with the text "Bad Bitch" in all caps partially covered by his arm.

Katsuki has short, spiky, sandy blonde hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. He has hearing aids and is wearing a black t-shirt.

Shoto has his hair split between two colors: white on his right side and crimson red on his left. He has heterochromia, his left eye is iris turquoise, while his right is a brownish dark gray. He has a large burn scar on the left side of his face, which reaches from his hairline to halfway down his cheek, his eyebrow on that side is segmented. He is wearing a plain red t-shirt.

Tenya has short dark blue hair, flattened neatly down and parted on the right side of his head. His eyebrows have the far ends sharply hooked inwards, and he wears glasses with rectangular lenses over his red eyes. He is wearing a t-shirt with a buttoned neck. End ID]

Descúbrela

60 notas. Fecha de publicación: 25 de junio de 2022

2

[ID: A watercolour painting of Sasha James and Jonathan Sims from the podcast The Magnus Archives. Black lines in the shape of an eye mark the center of the piece, while others reach out from the center to divide the rest of the piece into sections. Sasha, who is depicted as a black woman with light brown skin and curly hair, is depicted in the center with her hair floating above her head and holding a tan box to a brown table with a blank expression, her eyes glowing green, with blue clouds and a web coming from behind her against a dark green background. In the top left section, a closeup of Sasha's face with the lights of her computer reflecting on her glasses and face  is visible. In the top right corner, Sasha is depicted with worms buried in her face and shoulder. In the bottom left corner, Sasha is facing right with a worried expression on her face; in the bottom right corner, Jon, who is depicted as a thin man with dark hair with grey streaks and light brown skin, is looking left at Sasha with a nervous expression as well, behind him are little spiders coming down from the ceiling. In between them, another section shows spider arms reaching towards a closed door. End ID]

My piece for @thevoidcannotbefilled​ fanfic Turn the Table; Face your Fate

for the @seasons-in-the-archives​ Summer in The Archives event!!

62 notas. Fecha de publicación: 25 de septiembre de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

Jon adopts a cat and some weeks later he has five instead @jonsimsandcats

[ID: two illustrations of Jonathan Sims with cats, the blush, scars and some details are colored. Jonathan Sims is a thin latin american person with white hair that has two streaks of his original hair color. He has both ears pierced and multiple scars, a big one under his right eye and smaller round ones in all his visible skin. He is wearing a sweater. In the first illustration he is wrapped with a blanket while holding a cat in his arms, the cat has white fur with orange and brown spots, the cat is purring, he is looking at it with a soft smile. In the second illustration he has three kittens in his shoulders and one in top of his head, the mother cat is besides him looking at her kittens. Jon is smiling, all the cats are purring. End ID]

71 notas. Fecha de publicación: 29 de abril de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt: Nico Visiting Elysium

SPOILERS FOR THE BURNING MAZE AND THE TOWER OF NERO

The walk to Elysium was one that Nico was familiar with. Some days his feet would bring him there subconsciously, hoping to one day find his sister among the souls that resided there. 

That day hadn’t come yet. But the heroes that were there were familiar with his presence, they weren’t bothered by the shadows beneath his feet, the tendrils that clung to his wrists, and winded themselves around his sword handle, ready to shoot out at his command. They didn’t blink an eye at the bags under his eyes, no matter how much sleep he got. When you’re a spirit constantly surrounded by death, you forget what life looks like. The same went for Nico. 

It had been a while since he’d been to the Underworld to see his father and step mother, but the way the rubble crunched beneath his feet was almost comforting. He knew where the dips in the hill were, where to avoid the holes and minor chasms. 

The environment and atmosphere of the Underworld began to shift the closer he got to Elysium. 

Nico’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of Elysium, and the glittering blue lake where The Isles of the Blest resided. He shouldn’t have been able to enter through the gates, but being a child of the Underworld had its perks. The gates opened at Nico’s touch and Nico was greeted with the beautiful view of Elysium. For a home made for the dead, the place exuded a significant amount of life and light, yet it lacked the warmth real life did. It was beautiful in the way jewels were beautiful, sparkly and well-cared for, but not the way flowers were, in their life and their aliveness. 

The trek to the pavilion where he usually met with spirits was hard, it didn’t get easier to see the spirits of heroes Nico had watched or felt die in battles he had also fought in. Every time he saw the familiar gleam of Hunter-silver he had to hold back a flinch. The flowers of Elysium were of gold and silver and Nico had come to the realisation that they were the only plants that didn’t wilt in his presence, it left him feeling an odd sense of pride as he picked one from the ground and placed it in his pocket for later. There was no breeze down here, yet the grass rippled in colours of the rainbow as spirits passed through, wanting to see why the child of Hades was present. Small voices called out to him beyond the gates, wanting to feed on his light, and his life but he pulled up a barrier in his mind, imagining a fortress to protect himself. 

He stood in the middle of the pavilion and held out his hand. He wouldn’t need food to summon who he needed to speak to, he knew that they’d come. 

“Jason Grace.” 

His voice came out stronger than he thought it would. But he still wasn’t mentally prepared enough for the shape of Jason to appear so easily. He knew that Jason had died in his school uniform, but someone had taken the liberty to put him in a purple Camp Jupiter shirt, despite this, the colour was pale, as if all the colour had been bleached out.

Nico caught himself against a pillar as Jason’s form materialised by Nico’s feet. Jason was kneeling as if he was praying, head bowed and arms out trying to hold himself up. 

“Jason?” Nico repeated. 

The silvery outline of Jason seemed to grow brighter, before he rose to his full height. Nico tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to notice the gaping holes in his chest that glowed with silver through the purple shirt. 

“Nico?” 

When he was little, Nico had been taught by his mother and by Bianca that eye contact was important, it was rude if you didn’t meet people’s eyes when you were speaking to them. But over the years he had also learnt that in order to meet people’s eyes constantly, he needed to be prepared for other people to look into his eyes, allow them to see that vulnerability that he knew he showed. 

Nico forced himself not to avert his eyes as Jason looked at him astounded, his wire framed glasses still sat atop his nose but Nico could no longer see his reflection in them. Everything about him looked the same, his voice too. 

“Hi Jason,” Nico breathed, blinking hard. It was getting significantly harder to remain standing as Jason watched him. It had only been a couple of months since- but Nico hadn’t been able to bring himself to come down and search for him. It was a pain that reminded him all too much of the time when he'd just found out he was a demigod and his world had turned upside down. 

“You’re angry with me,” Jason said, a small smile growing on his mouth. Nico let out a choked laugh and shook his head. 

“I’m learning that grudges do me no good, especially against...especially against the dead,” Nico admitted. He waited for Jason’s form to blur into a corporeal version, but he remained in a hazy silvery state, like Nico was in the middle of an Iris message with him and Nico guessed perhaps they were; except instead of being miles apart and trying to communicate, it was the absence of Jason’s life and the existence of Nico’s that enabled them to talk despite Jason’s body being buried at Camp Jupiter. 

“I always thought I wasn’t scared of death…when you’re a demigod of a prophecy you learn to be, and then Leo died, and I knew. I knew that whatever happened I had nothing to be scared of because he’d be here for me…”

“And then he wasn’t,” Nico filled in. Jason nodded, looking beyond the pavilion at the Isles of the Blest. 

“I knew that he wouldn’t be here...yet, I don’t know, maybe it’s selfish to wish that I wasn’t alone-”

“It’s not,” Nico said firmly, standing up straighter to meet Jason’s gaze. With a sharp intake of breath he realised that he had slightly grown since he’d last seen Jason, and now he’d be immortalised at this height. 

Jason seemed to notice at the same time, losing his train of thought as he looked down at Nico. 

“You’ve grown taller,” he said fondly. Jason reached out almost as if he went to pet Nico’s head, but his hand passed through Nico, leaving him with a brain freeze. Jason noticeably winced and muttered an apology. The pain in Nico’s stomach was second to the odd feeling of familiarity. It had been many years since Nico had had an older sibling, and only recently had he become one again, yet Jason, in their small time period of knowing each other had grown closer than Nico would have thought. It was a nice thought, to think he had someone else watching over him, even if it was beyond the life he was currently living. Nico found himself thinking about Bianca again, the way he always did when he felt lost. 

“I saw your plans for the temples,” Nico managed. He gripped the hilt of his sword, using it to ground him as his emotions began to unfurl, curling around him like a dark cloud. 

“Apollo kept his promise?” 

“He was adamant in doing so.”

Jason smiled, and it made him look younger, bringing a light to his face that should’ve been hard to achieve in the Underworld but he made it look easy. 

“Will you try for the Isles?” Nico asked, and though he tried not to, fear laced his words as he watched Jason look at the island in question, a wistful look upon his features. 

“Maybe…” Fear, as hot as lightning struck Nico in the chest, and he thought he was about to say goodbye to another demigod he had looked up to. 

“But not yet. There are heroes here. Heroes that I fought with during the titan war, one’s I didn’t know the name of, same with the giant war. I think it’s time that I learned them.”

"Jason?" 

"Yeah?"

"Are you still scared?" Absentmindedly Nico placed his hand in his pocket where he kept a small token of luck, the familiar groove in the old mythomagic toy bringing him a bittersweet comfort. 

Jason tilted his head to the side for a moment, thinking before he shook his head.

"Not anymore, no."

As he spoke, his light began to flicker, becoming more of a mirage than anything. Nico poured his power into him, praying to his father for more time. He had so much more to say, messages to pass on, and- he just wanted more time. 

“Piper she-”

“Is she happy?” Jason asked, interrupting. Nico thought of Piper with her girlfriend, and the life she was building outside of Camp Half Blood and nodded slowly. 

“And Leo?” He continued. This time Nico thought about Leo’s easy laugh and his constant energy, bouncing off the walls, and his smiles around Calypso. 

“Yeah he’s happy but-”

“And Reyna? Percy and Annabeth? Frank? Hazel? Are they all happy? Right at this moment?” The question almost took Nico by surprise but he wasn’t lying when he said his answer. 

“Yes.” Images of the other demigods, speaking via Iris message, and on visits to each other's camps flashed in Nico’s head. Reyna and her pledge to the Hunters echoed in his head, an almost mirror to Bianca and Thalias. The pictures Annabeth and Percy had sent to Chiron when they had arrived at college, pinned on the board in The Big House. Then of his little sister with her purple cape, matching Franks. 

“They’re happy,” he repeated, more sure of himself when he said it. Jason seemed to relax. 

“And Thalia?” he asked softly. 

“She’ll be okay,” he replied honestly. 

“I never wanted to leave her.”

“She knows.”

“What about you, Nico? Are you happy?” 

The question jarred Nico and he hesitated to answer, thinking hard about it. He thought about the haze he had been in right after Jason’s death. The nightmares that had resurfaced, the voices that called to him from beneath the ground. 

“I want to be.” It was the closest to the truth he could get. Will’s face flashed behind Nico’s closed eyelids, and unconsciously Nico smiled and nodded with more certainty. 

Jason smiled again. 

“Then I’ll be okay.” 

[sandyxandy]

he can hear the ocean out here

-

[ID: An illustration of a man, Percy Wilston, sitting mindlessly on a brick ledge with tabs and beach in the background and foreground. Everything has a purple hue. Percy is a mocha-skinned man with dark-brown hair dyed purple at the ends. His hair is shoulder-lengthed and in a bun/half-up half-down hairstyle. He wears glasses with white frames, muted dark purple jacket with white buttons, a light purple shirt, white jeans, and dark shoes with grey soles. He’s wearing an ace ring on his right middle finger and an engagement ring on his left ring finger. There is a white stud earring in his left earlobe. He is covered in purple lighting.

The background behind him is a beach with light blue waves washing up against the sand from a bird’s eye view.

The tab in the foreground is a tab playing music. The song playing is labelled ‘It Stays Calm’ and is almost finished. The background is a purple night sky. The top of the tab, pause, back and forward buttons are a light purple. There are three circles in the right corner of the tab, a green circle, yellow circle, and red circle in that order.

The tab in the background is a tab with a pink night sky with white stars and crescent moon. The clouds are light purple and pink. The top of the tab is light purple. There are three circles in the right corner of the tab, a green circle, yellow circle, and red circle in that order.

In the right corner of the brick wall, there is a light purple watermark that reads ‘sandyxandy’.

/End ID]

[beekekies]

hi! is there any particular reason that you draw percy with purple framed glasses in your artwork? it’s really cute :3

HIYA!! There isnt an actual reason really!! I just think purple goes well with percy's colours!!

( in my head i also think, at somepoint percy needed to replace his glasses, and oliver would suggest purple frames cuz "Purple would look good on you, matches with your eyes!" - Oliver wood)

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions IV

This is a fic i’m writing to incorporate more descriptions into my writing. Updates are sporadic as i don’t have chapters written in advance. I hope, however, you enjoy what is here :)

masterlist

P.S. ardor means flame in latin; cielo means sky in spanish

Jason Grace is tired. So so tired. Exhaustion is a weight pressing into his bones. He doesn't know why he snapped at Percy. His patience is usually an infinite string wrapping around his throat and tying a bow against his collarbone. But every part of him feels out of place. He stares at the mirror mounted to the wooden wall, stares at it until his eyes cross. But he doesn't recognize the person staring back.

They have the same blonde hair and blue eyes. The same tall, half-gangly half-lean frame. And the wonky glasses. But they don't have the spark that glitters in his eye. Or the dancing fingers that constantly needed to be entertained. No, those fingers lay limp at his side.

He sighs and moves to collapse onto his bed. At the very least the silk sheets are blissfully cool under his skin. When they had first got to the cabin he had been surprised at the sheer lack of opulence. In all his years of being a Prince and visiting every castle and vacation-home known to man he thought he had a pretty good idea about what royalty was like. But Crown Prince Percy Jackson and Queen Sally Jackson continue to surprise him. When they had insisted on a small wedding, consisting of no more than what was needed to officiate a royal ceremony, or when Queen Sally had pulled him aside after their dinner the night before and hugged him tight enough to stop his air flow.

"I am sorry Jason," She looked at him, her sea blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, "That you have to give up so many of your own choices. I hope one day, you will find peace and happiness despite the circumstances."

He had thanked her but her words, even now, puzzles him to the point of headaches.

Why did she care what happened to him? And why did she think he didn't have any choices?

His kingdom is as much a part of this agreement as theirs. All these questions buzz incessantly in his mind enough that he feels the low throb of a migraine at the base of his skull. Immediately, he pushes himself off the bed and gets into an ice cold shower. On top of everything, he doesn't need to be sick.

The shower beats against his back as he gets lost in his thoughts, remembering the last time time he had been under the relentless spray, in his own castle.

I can't believe you have to get married to some pompous no good jackass.

Aw don't say that. We don't even know him.

Yea but he's taking you away from me so I hate him

Don’t worry my ardor, I will find my way back to you.

A calloused hand, the colour of brass, snaked under his arm, resting against his chest, where his heart beats steadily.

What if you end up falling for each other?

He turned around, looking deep into those coffee eyes.

I don't know how I could possibly fall for anyone when you have already caught me.

I hate you for making me cry.

Jason had leaned in, tilted up that angular face, brushed away the curls.

I love you my ardor.

I love you mi cielo.

The memory fades as he pulls himself back to the present, letting the sound of sleepy birds and rushing water ground him.

Shutting off the shower he dries himself off quickly, glad to find the oncoming migraine gone. Not bothering with anything but a pair of boxers he makes his way into the lounge where the fire is slowly dying. He shoves a few more logs in and settles down on the fleece rug in front of it. Percy, he observes, is still holed up in his room.

He knows he should apologize, should offer some peace treaty after snapping like that, but he can't bring himself to care. He just wants to be at home, surrounded by his people, by his person.

He hasn't stopped thinking about them, about that smile, or the way their ears turn red when they notice Jason staring, or how they can fix literally anything you put in front of them.

He had asked why they never followed their father, take of the family business, why they chose to become a royal guard instead, but his ardor had shrugged and said there were more exciting things in the world than melting metal.

Jason always dragged them closer and tangled his fingers in that messy hair.

Well I guess it was the right choice. Because it brought you to me.

And then words were no longer necessary.

He shakes himself out of it, out of the life he's left so far behind. There is nothing there for him now. Nothing but a coronation and ruling for the rest of his days. The thought makes him queasy. Makes him want to fly into the sky and live amongst the clouds. Life, he thinks, would be much simpler if they could escape to the sky. Instead, he picks up the book he is reading and escapes into another world.

Some time later he dozes off, head lolling to the side. His dreams take him to hands of fire and cheeky smiles. He dreams of comfort.

"Jason," Someone calls him.

He mumbles for them to go away and tries to tuck himself back into bed, only to fall over and slam into a hard something?

"You can't sleep like this," The voice is saying, "You're going to ache tomorrow."

"Don't care." He groans, curling into a ball.

"Come on,"

And then he's being lifted clean of his feet and hoisted over a shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He manages to mutter.

"You can't sleep like that. First of all the floor is not comfortable and second I don't know how much you move in your sleep and I don't want a Jason barbecue."

"I don't want to sleep in my room." His brain is foggy and he trips over every second word.

"Why?"

"Iss cold."

"I'll get you another blanket." Percy's voice is nothing but a raspy breath.

"Have two," He mumbles, "Need to sleep with my—"

He’s cut off by a yawn.

"Your what?"

"My what what?"

He can hear his husband— oh yes his husband, what a silly thought— sigh and he pictures those striking green eyes rolling.

"My room has sun for most of the day, you can sleep there for now. We can discuss your room when you’re less sleep deprived. Sound good?"

"Soundddss dreamy," He sighs, fighting his fast closing eyes.

Just before the world disappears he's placed gently on cotton sheets. He can hear the birds starting to sing and he can feel the sun bathing his usually pale skin.

"This isss ni—" He yawns, "nice."

Jason Grace is fast asleep.

***

The Prince opens his eyes slowly, blinking back into the present. He doesn't recognize his surroundings. There's a small pile of clothes on a maple-wood rocking chair in the corner, and emerald curtains, fastened by glimmering ties, open to reveal huge arched windows. He looks down to see his legs entangled in black sheets and the faintest threads of cerulean blue weaving between the strands.

Percy's room, then.

But why is he in here. He doesn't remember drinking last night and that's the only way he could have possibly slept with his husband. Gods what a sad thought indeed. He decides to just ask the Black-haired Prince, not caring to delve into his memories to try piece together what happened. He thinks briefly about donning more clothes than his current boxers but his room is far and the house is warm, and mostly he just can’t muster up the energy. 

He finds the prince at the kitchen counter typing furiously on his laptop. He takes a single moment to observe the scene. Percy's mussed curls and thin wire framed glasses pushed up his nose. A coffee cup, still steaming sits to his right, and a board of cheese and the bread he had baked is layed out on the other side.

"I can't be that pretty to look at, I haven't even brushed my hair yet." Percy says without looking up.

"Sorry," He's glad the Prince doesn't take his eyes away from the screen because Jason's cheeks are bright red.

He moves to grab some coffee and sits down on the opposite side of the table.

"So uh—" He rubs the back of his neck, "Why was I sleeping in your room."

"Oh," Percy starts, finally looking up. Those green eyes widen as big as saucers as he takes the golden prince in.

"What?" Jason panics, "We didn't do anything did we?"

His husband snorts, "Trust me. If we fuck, you'll remember."

He is ready with a snarky reply but the prince continues, "No you were sleeping in the lounge but the fire was still on and it just seemed like a recipe for disaster. I tried to take you to your room but you said it was cold so I put you in mine because it gets sun for most of the day."

Jason is taken aback. That's sweet... surprisingly sweet.

"Thank you."Percy shrugs and goes back to typing on his laptop. He doesn't know what he should do. They seem to have entered into some sort of civil conversation and he doesn't want to ruin the shred of normality.

So he downs the rest of his coffee, chucks the mug in the sink and disappears into his bedroom. Minutes later he comes out more clothed, jeans hugging his legs and a blue sweater that feels like getting a hug from a panda. If getting a hug from such an animal was warm and soft and cuddly. He wouldn't know.

"I'm going for a walk."

His husband just nods, motioning to the cabin keys distractedly. Jason, fortunately, picks up on the meaning and grabs them, tucking the set into his coat.

This is the first time since they had driven here three days ago that he's stepping outside. Dusk is just starting to settle and the world is awash in oranges and pinks and the faintest strokes of purple. He wants to live in these colours, wants to paint them across his eyes so he always sees the world in their shades. A little sparrow flies down and lands on a branch hanging just over his head. It chirps as he walks past, flurrying it's tail as if to say hello. And then it spreads its wings and soars into the open plains, into those bleeding colours.

He remembers suddenly, a story his nanny had told him.

Why Miss Rosie, does the sky change colours?

Because Little Prince, when artists die they say goodbye by giving us a final painting.

Does that mean when the clouds change shapes sculptors are saying goodbye?

Miss Rosiland Krynn had smiled at those big blue eyes and nodded.

What happens when the artist can't paint or draw or sculpt what about then?

Well when you hear the sounds of wind chimes tinkling in the garden, or the sounds of streams bubbling in the woods, or the whistle of birds as they wake up then you're hearing all the singers who can no longer sing on earth.

And what about the actors?

When you hear someone crying, or lots of people laughing, or when you can feel someone watching over you those are the actors. They're their to bring joy into the world through all the people still here.

And the dancers Miss Rosie?

Have you ever seen flowers in the breeze?

He nodded his head, clutching at her fingers in anticipation.

And have you ever seen reeds in the river?

He nodded again, practically bouncing in excitement.

And what do they look like they're doing?

Dancing Miss Rosie! He had squealed, falling back into the couch as he thought about all she had said.

Jason smiles fondly at those memories, at a time much simpler than this. Where the sky was a canvas and music was stored in the wind. He can almost believe Miss Rosalind as he surveys his surroundings. There is something magical about this place. Like no matter what's going on in the world, this will never be touched by it. He can't help but run his fingers along the bark of a willow tree and sink his feet into the lush grass under it. At least out here he doesn't have to be anyone but Jason Grace. The marigolds dancing in the evening breeze do not care that he is Crown Prince of Caelum. And the blades of grass that hold his weight don't mind that he is human, that he has to function, even when it's inconvenient, inconceivable. Best of all, nothing around here cares that he's anything at all. If he gives his name to the river bed they will tuck it in and let it rest.

So he sits under the willow tree, letting his name drift down the stream, and spins fantasies of a life long lost.

When he makes his way back to the cabin, hours later, he's almost convinced himself that the world has stopped. And he is nothing but a vessel, strong enough to bend time.

It is like a bucket of lava on his skin, then, when Percy meets him at the door and drops the words he doesn't want to hear.

"We leave tomorrow. There was a shootout at your castle."

Jason Grace falls to his knees, and holds down the bile in his throat, as molten eyes and burning hands flash in his mind.

I'm coming for you Leo.

[aeneidpdf]

title: all they need is one

word count: 6k+

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015307

summary: “Knowing that McVries was alive, Baker felt more grounded. With the three of them together, they had a chance of getting out and having a normal life. They could leave this strange underground bunker and go find a cabin in the woods somewhere. Things could never go back to normal, but they could make a new normal.”

Baker, Garraty, and McVries escape the Long Walk. Written for day four of tlw week.

He hadn’t remembered much when he was taken off the road. It had been dark, and the road had covered over with smoke, blotting out the streetlights and the camera flashes from the crowd. Next, there had been gunshots. On his left, on his right, in front of him? He couldn’t tell. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and it was disorienting. He didn’t even flinch at that noise anymore, though. On the Walk, the sound of  a gun was commonplace. He’d gotten used to it.

Next there were the hands, grabbing at his arms, his shoulders. These were harder to ignore, but he couldn’t fight them off if he tried. They were pulling him, pulling him off the road. If he walked off the road, he’d be dead. Shot dead like Percy. He had to keep moving, he had to make four miles per hour. He resisted as much as he could, then he felt a sharp pinch in his neck and the world faded to black.

///

He woke up slow, not all at once. He blinked slowly, wincing in the bright light. He became aware of the throbbing in his head and the persistent ache in his feet. Once he fully returned to consciousness, that was when he started panicking. Why was he laying down? Why wasn’t he walking? God, why wasn’t he walking they’d kill him they’d kill him.

He sat up, urged on by fear even though his whole body was crying out in protest. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand, letting out a soft cry when he put pressure on his feet. He sat back down, gritted his teeth and tried again. Holding onto the edge of the bed, he began to walk.

“Baker,” a raspy voice interrupted his concentration, and he turned to look. It was Garraty, laying in a bed much like Baker’s own, looking very small and pale. “Lay back down, Baker. The Walk’s over.”

Baker did as he was told. It felt good to be off his feet again. He let his head sink back against the pillow and his breathing slowly returned to normal- the panic ebbed away and the pain in his feet subsided to a dull ache. It wasn’t going away. Baker wondered if it would ever go away.

The room he was in was lit by bright fluorescent bulbs, that only intensified Baker’s headache and made his eyes hurt. The room was small, with only the two beds in it and a table between them. On the opposite wall, there were two doors- one presumably leading out and the other possibly to a bathroom. Baker would have to investigate later when his feet didn’t hurt as bad.

Baker realized he was hungry, and parched, and just plain confused. Why were he and Garraty here? And what had Garraty said? The Walk was over? That wasn’t possible- the Walk didn’t end until only one was left.

“Garraty, what happened?” he asked, looking over at the other boy. “What is this place?”

Garraty shifted to face Baker and propped himself up on an elbow. “We got rescued from the Walk. This group that’s against the Major, they set off smoke bombs on the road, shot at the halftrack, and dragged off as many of us as they could,” he said. “I don’t know where we are, but I think we’re safe here. I think they’ll help us get better.”

“Do you know who else is here?” Baker asked.

Garraty shook his head. “I only woke up a few hours ago, and they didn’t tell me anything.”

Just as he said that, a woman walked into the room, entering through the door on the right. The hallway that she came from looked dim. “How are you feeling?” she asked them.

“Alright,” Garraty answered, and Baker just grunted in response. His mind was running a mile a minute. Where were they? What was going to happen to them? Why had these people decided to save them?

The woman went over to Garraty first. She gave him some pills and a glass of water, and set a tray of food on the table beside his bed. The food looked bland, but definitely better than the concentrates they were given on the Walk, and it made Baker ravenous.

She turned to Baker next. She had short dark hair and a kind face. It made him feel more relaxed to be around kind faces. She introduced herself as Pamela, and she helped him to the bathroom. “I’m going to clean and bandage your feet, and then we’ll get you something to eat. How does that sound, Art?” She was talking to him like a child, but Baker found he didn’t mind. His brain was too muddled and confused to take in the full gravity of what was happening to him, so Baker just nodded.

Pamela helped Baker to sit on a stool next to the bathtub, and then she filled the tub with warm water. She began to gently wash his feet, cleaning off the dirt and dried blood and flaking skin. He bit down on his fist to try to stifle his cries of pain, but he couldn’t hide the tears that rolled down his cheeks. The bathwater was quickly turning brown, and the blood and pus and dirt were washed away. What Pamela couldn’t wash away, however, were the bruises, the ugly purple swollen bruises that covered his feet. Baker had to look away.

She drained the tub and gently dried his feet. Baker winced at the pain and the broken sob that came out of him. It was embarrassing to cry like this in front of a stranger, though he supposed he had done much more embarrassing things on national TV as part of the Long Walk. “You went through something really hard, Art,” Pamela said as she applied ointment onto his feet. “That makes you brave.”

Baker didn’t feel brave, but he wiped at his eyes and tried to pull himself together. The ointment was soothing, even if it didn’t get rid of the pain altogether. “Where are we?” he asked, and hated how cracked his voice sounded.

Pamela shook her head as she began to bandage his feet in clean, white fabric. “I can’t tell you that,” she said. “But you’re safe here.”

After that she helped him back into bed and then brought him water and a tray of food. She pressed two pills into his hands- “they’ll help with the pain”- and he took them without hesitation. He devoured his food, barely even tasting it. It felt good to eat. It felt good not to think and just feed his body. Pamela left and Garraty was asleep in his bed.

When Baker finished eating, he set the tray aside and he slept too.

///

Pamela was back the next day, to clean and re-bandage their wounds, and to give them breakfast. Garraty went first, and then Baker. It still hurt when she cleaned his feet, and silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “Did you- uh, did you manage to save anyone else?” he asked, not sure what answer he was hoping for.

“We did,” Pamela said. “We got 10 boys total. They’re scattered across the country, in safe places like this.”

Baker felt relieved at that. He and Garraty weren’t the only survivors. He wondered if the others were his friends. Maybe McVries, Abraham, Collie Parker? He hoped, he hoped. “Is anyone here besides me and Garraty?”

Pamela nodded as she bandaged up his feet. “Yes,” she said. “Peter McVries.”

///

Baker learned that McVries was in a room down the hall, and he was in critical condition after being shot in the stomach. Pamela didn’t tell him how he was doing, just that he and Garraty couldn’t go and see him now. It didn’t sound great, but to Baker it was the best news he’d heard in a long time. McVries was here.

As soon as Pamela left, Baker sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side so he was facing Garraty. “Hey, Garraty?”

The other boy lifted his head. “What is it?”

“McVries is here.”

Garraty sat up immediately, a look of shock and joy on his face. “Really? He’s here?”

Baker nodded. “Pam said he was hurt pretty bad. I guess he got shot by one of the soldiers when they were getting us out.”

“But is he okay?” Garraty was sitting on the edge of the bed now, hands gripping the bed frame so tight they had turned white.

“I think so,” Baker answered. “We can’t see him now, but Pam said it would be soon.”

Ray let out a sigh of relief. “God, I can’t believe we’re all here. I can’t believe we’re alive.”

Baker couldn’t believe it either. He had become pretty accustomed to the notion that he’d never see his family or his home again. He had become accustomed to the notion of never again breathing in the summer air or napping under a willow tree or reading a good book or laughing with people that he loved.

And maybe he never would do those things again. What kind of life could he have now? Surely the Major was looking for them.

“Garraty?” he asked, his voice small and unsure.

“Hm?”

“Where are we gonna go from here? We can’t go home.”

Garraty considered this for a moment, and he looked upset. He didn’t answer. The two fell into troubled silence.

///

“Baker?” Garraty whispered. “Are you awake?”

It was nighttime now, and the room was impossibly dark.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why do you think we’re here?” he asked. “Like, why did they save us?”

Baker thought about this for a couple minutes. It really didn’t make sense. Why go to all the trouble to save ten walkers? “I don’t know. Maybe just to say fuck you to the Major?”

Garraty yawned and Baker heard him shifting in his bed. “They want us to do something,” he finally said. “They didn’t go to all that trouble out of the goodness of their hearts.”

It was funny. Garraty was always the innocent one, but now he sounded as cynical and jaded as McVries. “I wonder if they’re looking for us,” Baker said.

“Probably,” Garraty answered. “Who knows if they’ll find us? How can they know where we are when we don’t even know where we are?”

Baker snorted and the two fell silent. Before long, Baker heard Garraty’s breathing even out, and then he fell asleep too.

///

It was a couple of days until they were allowed to see McVries. A man named Alan came to get them and escorted them to McVries’s room. Baker’s feet felt a lot better, but it still hurt to put too much pressure on them and he and Garraty walked with crutches. It wasn’t too far a walk from their room, and Baker noticed how dim the hallway was. There were no windows in sight. The floors and walls and ceiling were made of cement. It looked like they were in some underground bunker.

Alan opened the door for them, and there was Peter McVries, lying in a bed and looking weaker and smaller than Baker had ever seen him. Garraty was at his side in an instant. “Pete! You’re alive!” he cried, sitting down in one of the chairs by his bedside. Alan left them alone and the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Ray,” McVries said, his voice scratchy and raw. “It’s good to see you.” Baker limped over, dropping into the seat next to Garraty. The two of them were holding hands. “Hi, Art.”

“Hi, Pete,” Baker replied. McVries called them by their first names. It felt like they were people- the Three Musketeers- and not just nameless numbers on a march to the death. It felt good. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” McVries answered. “Of course it feels good to lay down and eat real food, but my stomach… it hurts like a bitch.” McVries pulled down his sheets to reveal bandages around his torso. Blood leaked through the bandages on the left side.

“Shit, Pete,” Garraty said, and reached out to touch the bandages. McVries winced. Garraty pulled his hand back and mumbled a “sorry.”

“Are they taking care of you, Pete?” Baker asked. The blood on the bandages looked black.

He nodded. “Yeah. They’re feeding me and cleaning the wound and all that,” he answered. He grinned at them and squeezed Garraty’s hand. “When they told me you guys were here, I couldn’t believe it. I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Baker said, and Garraty just wiped sweaty strands of hair out of McVries’s face and beamed.

The three sat in companionable silence, basking in the knowledge that they were alive and they were together, until Alan came in and told Baker and Garraty that they needed to go to bed.

///

Knowing that McVries was alive, Baker felt more grounded. With the three of them together, they had a chance of getting out and having a normal life. They could leave this strange underground bunker and go find a cabin in the woods somewhere. Things could never go back to normal, but they could make a new normal.

In the bed next to him, Garraty awoke from a nightmare, breathing hard and crying. Baker went to him, grabbing his hand to calm him. “Ray, Ray, just breathe. Breathe, okay? You’re okay. I’m here.”

Slowly, Garraty’s breathing evened out and he wiped at his eyes. “Art, can we go talk in the bathroom?” Baker nodded and helped him to the bathroom. Garraty sat in the tub while Baker sat cross-legged on the plush rug in front of the sink. “Every time I close my eyes I feel like I’m on the Walk again,” Garraty said after a while.

“Me too,” Baker admitted. Even when he was just laying in bed, allowing his subconscious mind to wander, he was brought back time and time again to the Walk. “It’s helped me a bit to think of myself more as Art Baker, and less as #3, you know? Like, I’ll recite things about myself.” Garraty looked at him confused. “Like, my name is Art Baker. I’m from Louisiana. I have seven siblings. My favorite book in The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. I was on the Long Walk, but I got out.”

“I’ll try now,” Garraty said, and took a deep breath. “My name is Ray Garraty. I’m from Maine. I used to have a brother but he’s dead now. I have a girlfriend named Jan. I like to dance. I like to knit. I escaped the Long Walk.”

“That’s good, Ray,” Baker said reassuringly. Garraty had his legs pulled up to his chest and he was staring down at his knees.

“Art, do you remember anything from when we were taken?” Garraty asked.

Baker shook his head. “Not really,” he answered, desperately trying to piece together what happened. “It was dark, and I remember guns everywhere. My neck really hurt and then I just passed out. I don’t really remember anything before that.” In fact, the whole last day of the Walk was fuzzy in his memory.

“My neck hurt too,” Garraty said, and began to rub the side of his neck absentmindedly. He paused, and then looked at Baker, a dark look on his face. “Do you… do you think they gave us something?”

“Gave us something?” Baker repeated. “Like, to knock us out?”

Garraty nodded.

“I, uh, I think so,” Baker finally said. “I mean, I can hardly remember anything from that last day on the road.”

“What do you think about the pills they give us?” Garraty asked next. “They say it’s for pain, but I always feel worse after I take them.”

“Ray, come on, this just sounds insane now,” Baker said. But even as he said it, Baker’s mind was filled with doubt. The pills never did ease the aching in his feet, and they always made him feel tired and sluggish. He remembered just the day before when Ray had collapsed on his way to the bathroom after taking his pills. Baker had hardly had the strength to haul him back up on his feet. “But I think you might be right. We should stop taking the pills.”

“We’ll have to tell Pete, too,” Ray said. “And when we get our strength back, we have to get out of here. We can’t trust these people, Art.”

///

The next day they went to see McVries again. They hadn’t taken their pills- they hid them under their tongues when Pamela gave them to them. Baker hadn’t been able to notice much of a difference yet.

They settled into their chairs by McVries’s bedside and Garraty immediately reached for his hand, locking their fingers together. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m alright,” McVries answered. But he didn’t look all right. His face was red and sweaty, and his bandages still oozed dark blood. “Just taking it one day at a time, eh, Ray?”

Garraty grinned and ducked his head. Baker remembered that conversation. That was one of the first days of the Walk, and they’d been talking about the key to living a happy life. Garraty had said to just take it one day at a time, and McVries said that was bullshit. Honestly, Baker didn’t know where he stood on that one.

“Pete,” Garraty said. “We don’t think we’re safe here.”

McVries furrowed his eyebrows and scooted up so he was in a sitting position, wincing as he did so. Baker watched in horror as his bandages darkened with even more blood. “What do you mean?”

“We think they drugged us before they got us here, and they’re feeding us pills to keep us weak,” Baker answered. Saying it out loud, he realized it sounded insane, but he believed it to be true with all his heart.

McVries processed this for a moment, wiping his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes with his free hand. “So you think I should stop taking the pills?”

“It’s up to you,” Garraty said. “We think they’re fucking with our memories. Like, can you remember anything from that last day?”

“No?” he answered, and paused, looking deep in thought. “No, I don’t. I kinda remember the smoke, but not much before that.”

“We think that if we stop taking the pills, we might be able to remember more,” Baker said.

“Alright,” McVries said. “I’m in.”

///

Garraty and Baker began going to the bathroom to talk more, with Garraty in the tub and Baker sitting with his back against the sink. It felt more comfortable to talk in there, where they couldn’t be interrupted or overheard. Baker’s every waking thought was consumed by paranoia. Pamela and Alan had always been nice enough, but he didn’t know their intentions, and that scared him. He and Garraty had never met anyone else in the bunker, but he knew there had to be more. When they left the room to visit McVries, the network of hallways looked winding and complex.

“Do you think we could make it out?” Garraty asked, studying his hands.

Baker shrugged. “We don’t know how big this place is. We don’t know the way out. I don’t know if Pete could make it.”

Garraty looked up at that, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they’re taking care of him,” Baker replied. He drew his knees up to his chest. Seeing McVries had made him feel hopeful in a way he hadn’t known for a long time. But their last visit with him troubled him. Watching fresh blood bloom on his bandages when he moved, seeing how sweaty he looked. It didn’t sit right with Baker.

Garraty looked down. “We’ll go see him tomorrow.” His voice wavered, but Baker didn’t mention it.

///

The next day, Garraty and Baker visited McVries. It had been a week since they had stopped taking their pills. Baker felt stronger and surer on his feet, but he had no way of telling if that was from the pills, or from resting and getting regular meals.

McVries looked worse than he had before, and Baker’s heart tightened in his chest. He looked thinner, like he was wasting away. Garraty and Baker exchanged glances, like Garraty saw what Baker was seeing but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Baker asked as he sat down. Garraty sat down and grabbed McVries’s hand. With the other hand, he pushed his dark hair away from his eyes. His hand lingered.

“Pete, you’re burning up!” he cried, and then looked to Baker in desperation.

“Ray, don’t worry about it, okay?” Pete pleaded. “Let’s not talk about it.”

And that’s when it hit Baker. McVries knew he was sick. He knew he was dying. And he knew that there was nothing any of them could do.

“Okay,” Ray said quietly, and brought his hand down to rest on top of McVries’s. McVries gave it a squeeze.

“Are you guys feeling any different since you stopped taking your pills?” McVries asked.

“I feel a bit stronger,” Baker said. “But I don’t feel like I remember any more from that day.”

“Same,” Garraty said, but he sounded like his brain was thousands of miles away. He was rubbing circles in the back of McVries’s hand with his thumb, and looking at him with soft and tender eyes.

“I think I’ve remembered a bit,” McVries said, and the two regained focus as they looked at him attentively. To Baker, he said, “I was walking with you, and Abe. Parker was there, too, but like ten feet ahead of us You and Abe were playing that coin game again. You were winning.” Baker smiled at that. He remembered playing that game with Abraham earlier in the Walk. “And you, Ray, were walking with Stebbins, and he was probably playing fucking mind games with you.”

Garraty snorted. “That sounds like him.”

“It’s not much, but that’s all I have. We were passing through some small town. It was pretty dark out. The woods were on our left- I guess that’s where they came from.” McVries fell back against the pillow. It seemed like the effort that went into speaking had exhausted him. “Tell me what we’re gonna do once we get out of here. Please.”

“We can try to look for the others,” Baker said. “And then we can find a cabin up in the mountains somewhere, where we can live.”

“You could paint again, Pete,” Garraty interjected. “You know, woods, mountains, streams, and shit.”

McVries laughed at this, but it was hard to ignore the pained look on his face. “That would be nice.”

“We can hunt and fish, and live a peaceful life, away from all this,” Baker continued. “We can move on. And then maybe one day, it’ll be safe to live a normal life.”

“Spending eternity with the two of you wouldn’t be so bad,” McVries mused. “Three musketeers for life, huh?”

“Three musketeers for life,” Garraty and Baker echoed.

At that moment, Alan came in to tell them they only had a few more minutes left. The door clicked shut and the two looked back to McVries. As much as he didn’t want to think about it, this felt like a final goodbye, and Baker hated it.

The two stood. “Bye, Pete,” Garraty said, and then leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. He straightened back up, and McVries clung to his hand. He held out his other for Baker, and he took it.

“Hey, I love you guys,” McVries said. “The Long Walk’s bullshit, but I’m glad I did it with you guys.”

“I love you, too,” Baker said, and squeezed his hand. “At least something good came out of all this. I met you guys.”

“I love you, Pete,” Garraty said, voice serious and eyes shining.

The three dropped hands as Alan came back in to usher Garraty and Baker back to their room. The last thing Baker saw before the door shut behind them was McVries with his head in his hands.

///

The next morning, Pamela brought them their breakfast and pills, just like she did every morning. Baker hid his pills under his tongue as he took a sip of water, as was his new routine. “Hey, Pam?” he asked.

“Yeah, Art?”

“I was wondering about Pete. Could someone change his bandages or something? He didn’t look too good when we saw him yesterday,” he said. He didn’t know if anything he said could help, but he’d hate himself if he did nothing.

She gave him a warm smile. “Of course, Art,” she said, and smoothed down his hair. “I’ll go see to that right now.”

Pamela left the room, and Garraty and Baker exchanged looks. “Thanks,” Garraty said.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Baker replied. “He’s my friend too.”

The two began to eat their breakfast, consumed with worry for McVries.

///

Baker’s memories came back to him in dreams. Maybe he was influenced by what McVries had said, but either way he could see himself on the road, playing coin toss with Abraham. He was cheating, and with each round he lost, Abraham grew more and more frustrated.

Parker was a few paces ahead of them, occasionally turning around to laugh at Abraham. “How can you be so goddamn stupid, Abe?” Collie had barked out. “It’s obvious he’s cheating you!”

“He’s not cheating,” Abraham defended. “Are you?” he asked Baker.

“Of course not,” Baker answered, and when Abraham wasn’t looking, he winked at McVries. McVries laughed.

The halftrack trundled along on their right. It was their third night on the road. They were passing through a small town, so they had street lights overhead and a meager crowd turning out to see this year’s Long Walkers.

It had been instantaneous. They heard the clanging of metal and then smoke descended over the road. Baker figured the clang came from the bombs hitting the asphalt.

The guns came next. Deafening and from all sides. Baker kept walking through it all, like he was hardwired to keep going. He guessed at that point he was.

The crowd was screaming, and he heard walkers crying out in pain. One of them must have been McVries.

Then the hands.

That was the part where he always jolted awake, panting and covered in sweat.

///

“Can we visit Pete today?” Ray asked Pamela the next morning.

She simply smiled as she handed him his pills. “I’m afraid you can’t today.”

Baker looked up from his breakfast tray. “Why not?”

“It’s just not possible right now,” Pamela answered. If she was frustrated with them asking, she didn’t show it. She was good at always keeping her voice neutral and her expression kind.

When she left, Baker and Garraty exchanged nervous glances. They had become adept at communicating with their eyes and not their words. Right now, Garraty looked scared, like he was asking for confirmation from Baker that McVries was okay, but he wouldn’t believe it even if he got it.

Baker said, “We need to get out of here.”

///

They spent the afternoon practicing walking back and forth across the room. It was much easier to walk than it had been that first day they went to visit McVries. Their feet had healed, and they felt much less sluggish than they used to. When they had taken the pills everyday, Baker always felt exhausted by even the smallest amount of movement, but now he felt strong.

Garraty looked strong as well. He reminded Baker more and more of the day they first met, though it was hard to ignore the gaunt look in his eyes.

“Ray,” he said. “I think we can actually make it.”

They didn’t mention the question of whether or not McVries would be with them.

“I think we can, too.”

///

Pamela brought them their breakfast the next day, and Baker knew he had to ask about McVries. Garraty had been up all night, tossing and turning, worrying. Garraty hadn’t mentioned it, but he knew that was what he was thinking about. Baker had had a hard time sleeping too.

She gave Garraty his pills and then turned to Baker. He hid them under his tongue as always. She turned to leave and he spit them out and put them under his pillow. “Hey, Pam?” he called.

She turned around to face him with a smile on her face. “What is it, Art?”

“Is Pete okay?” he asked.

Her smile faltered and then fell. Baker sucked in a sharp breath. “No,” she answered. “I’m afraid he passed away.” Baker felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He turned to Garraty as the door clicked shut behind her.

“Ray?” he asked. His voice was small as he tried to speak through the tightening in his throat and his chest.

Garraty was looking straight ahead, his face pale and colorless. He was silent, except for his ragged inhale and exhale. He was so still and quiet that it was frightening.

Finally the dam broke. Garraty screamed “fuck!” and picked up his glass and threw it against the wall. It shattered, and glass and water showered down onto the floor.

Baker was with him in an instant, pulling Garraty into his arms and rubbing his back as they both broke down and cried.

///

Garraty didn’t talk for a few days after that. He just paced back and forth, back and forth. Baker laid curled up in bed and watched him until he couldn’t stand it. Then he’d roll over onto his other side and cry quietly to himself.

Baker knew Garraty loved him, but he didn’t mean nearly as much to him as McVries had. He felt that old familiar guilt creeping up on him. He’d felt it first when his older brother died of a heart attack. He’d been devastated. His brother was his idol. Sure, his brother had gotten into trouble with the law, but Baker himself had done worse. His brother was a good man. After it happened, he’d cried himself to sleep, night after night, thinking it should have been him instead.

And that was why he signed up for the Long Walk, right? That guilt that told him he didn’t deserve to live?

He’d been there right next to McVries, the night that they were all taken. He should’ve been the one who was shot instead.

That’s what he thought about when he tried to sleep. He couldn’t have been more than a foot away from McVries in the smoke. Why couldn’t he have done something to help? Why couldn’t it have been him instead?

///

A few nights after they heard the news about McVries, Garraty and Baker were sitting in their normal positions in the bathroom.

“We have to get the hell out of here,” Garraty said, looking up from his hands. “Or they’ll kill us, too.”

“They didn’t kill-” Baker began.

“Yes, they did, Art,” Garraty insisted. “They shot him.”

“We can’t know that. It was probably the soldiers.”

“He was shot on his left side. The halftrack was on our right.”

The realization hit Baker. “Oh, shit…”

“And they didn’t take care of him here. They let him get an infection and die,” Ray continued. The tears were falling freely now. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing! They’re not doctors! They don’t care if we die. They just want some walkers so they can rally the people and take down the Major!” His voice was gradually becoming louder. “All they need is one.”

Baker buried his head in his hands and cried. He knew he couldn’t have helped McVries, but it was terrible to know that he was alive while his friend was dead. And leaving without McVries felt horrible. This had been their plan together, the three of them. The three musketeers.

But he had to do it. For Ray, who deserved a normal life. And hell, after all this, he deserved a normal life too.

He looked back up, wiping at his eyes with both hands. “We’ll go tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

///

The next night, the two boys sat on the edges of their beds, and put on the shoes they had worn on the Walk. It was all they had to wear, and they needed shoes, but Baker still cringed as he put them back on.

“Do you think they’ll catch us?” Garraty asked.

“I don’t think they’re expecting us to leave,” Baker answered. “They think we’re taking our pills. They think we’re weak and we trust them. They think we don’t know what they did to Pete.”

Garraty nodded and they both stood. “Ray, I really think we can do this. We need to do this.”

They crept to the door and Baker opened it a crack. The hallway was empty, and they stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind them. Baker’s heart was hammering in his chest, going a mile a minute. The fear he felt as they snuck the hallway was akin to the fear he felt when he got his first warning or first saw the soldiers raise their guns against Curley.

They kept moving forward, and the hallways remained empty. Baker saw no signs of life. He guessed it was true- these people really thought they had Baker and Garraty under their thumbs. They really thought they had no idea what was going on here.

They stuck close to the wall, mostly so they had something to lean on as they continued taking tentative steps forward. His feet hurt, but it was manageable. Once they were out, Baker wondered how long it would take for them to notice and start looking for them. And was the Major still looking for them? Were they leaving one bad place just to be caught and taken to another? It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on it now.

They had taken Garraty’s watch when they first got here, so they had no idea what time it was and how many hours they had until dawn.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked back at Garraty. Garraty pointed down the hallway on their left. At the end there was a ladder. Maybe a ladder meant a hatch up to the outside world. Baker nodded and headed down that way.

They reached the end of the hallway and looked up. It was a tall ladder, and it looked like it led to a trap door. Looking back once at Garraty, Baker started to climb. Walking was one thing, but climbing was different altogether. It was a lot harder. His legs and feet were aching by the time he reached the top. He looked down and saw that Garraty was right behind him.

He felt around on the trap door and found a handle, which Baker twisted and then pushed up. Dirt and pine needles cascaded down on them as it opened. Baker grimaced and shielded his eyes from the debris, but at least it was open.

He clambered up and then he was laying on the dirt floor of a forest. He could smell pine trees and feel the cool night air. He reached down and pulled Garraty up. The two sat there for a minute, just catching their breath and clinging to each other. The sky was huge above them, dark and full of stars.

“We made it, Art,” Garraty said, and he was crying.

Baker was crying, too, from the relief, and from all they’d been through and all they’d lost. “Yeah, we did.”

The pair got to their feet, leaning on each other for support. Baker shut the trap door softly. He knew they’d need to move. Once it got light, there would probably be people looking for them, and they would need to find food, shelter, and fresh water if they wanted to survive.

“This is it, huh?” Baker said, wiping his hands on his jeans. He looked around him, at the big forest looming overhead of them.

“Let’s go,” Garraty said, nudging Baker with his elbow. Baker looked at him, and Garraty looked scared, but he looked hopeful too.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Baker agreed, and they stepped forward into the future.

[notwhelmedyet]

Younger

I will edit this later! I will post this properly on ao3! I will (probably) write a part 2. But in the meantime, before I go to bed: CYWHIRL WEEK DAY 1: THERE ARE NO PROMPTS BECAUSE I INVENTED CYWHIRL WEEK MYSELF, RIGHT NOW

Title: Younger, Part 1 Relationships: Cywhirlgate, Cywhirl Summary: Whirl decides it would be easier to go back in time and witness Cyclonus’s past than get him to spill his secrets. Warnings: Violence, Feelings

“You can’t just say that and then not explain!”

Cyclonus smiled, glancing over at Whirl with mischief sparkling in his optics. Of course he could not explain. This was the mech who had once promised Whirl that “Nobody is telling anyone anything, ever.” He was the grandmaster of not telling people things.

“Why did you even say anything, then?” Whirl groaned. He crowded into the windowseat beside Cyclonus and caught his chin with one claw so Cyclonus couldn’t coyly look away. “You’d tell Tailgate if he asked.”

“Tailgate would never,” Cyclonus said. “He’s from a time back when people had manners.”

“I would never!” Tailgate agreed. The fucking traitor. “Cyclonus doesn’t like talking about his past. Except for the songs. He loves talking about the songs.”

“And the arts,” Cyclonus put in.

“Oh yes! And the architecture! All the good things in life,” Tailgate said happily, climbing in between them on the windowseat, treating Cyclonus’s chest like a pillow. He batted at Whirl’s claw until Whirl released their conjunx and settled down between them and the hot glass of the windowpane.

Cyclonus hummed thoughtfully. “It’s better to remember the good things.”

“Yes, yes, I agree and all but blue?”

“I wasn’t aware it was a scandalous color,” Cyclonus remarked, with a straight face because he was a bastard who lived to torment the curious bots of the world and Whirl in particular.

“You huffed disapprovingly when I mentioned people swapping out their faceplates the other day. You have a legit scar on your leg, like a prehistoric urchin who’s never heard of a medic. And it’s not like you got a paint job - I’ve seen you with your arm torn off, you’re purple down to your base plating. Come ooooon, Cyclonus. I’m curious. It’s in my nature.”

“I think it’s better this way,” Tailgate said. “It’d look funny if we were a matched set. People would tease us. Just think of what Brainstorm would say - just awful! Plus, you’re so handsome in purple,” he said into Cyclonus’s chest, because his tiny frame belied what a massive flatterer he was.

“Do you really want to know?” Cyclonus asked.

“Yes.”

“Galvatron had me changed when I became his Warrior Second,” Cyclonus said, face suddenly serious. And aw, fuck it. Those were the magic words that unlocked the secret palace of ‘Whirl never getting to know anything about Cyclonus’s past’. Whirl didn’t even understand what a Warrior Second fucking was, though Rewind and Nautica both promised him it was a translate for ‘bodyguard’ or ‘retainer’ in ancient texts. Not that he’d asked. Whirl would never snoop in Cyclonus’s secret palace of secrets.

“You know, sometimes I think it would be easier to ask Brainstorm to make me a time machine and check for myself than to get you to explain anything about where you come from,” Whirl said.

“That would be a terrible idea,” Cyclonus said.

“Does that mean you’ll explain?” Whirl asked.

“No.” Cyclonus leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Whirl’s face. “I love you, but no.”

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

“Brainstorm, if I asked nicely, would you make me a time machine?” Whirl asked. “Cyclonus refuses to tell me anything about his days before he was old and mysterious.”

Brainstorm raised his hand in a ‘please do not continue’ motion. “You really think it’s easier for me to build you a time machine than you to talk to your conjunx?”

“For sure.”

Brainstorm looked over at Perceptor, focused on his data analysis on the other side of the lab, then looked back at Whirl. “Yeah okay. But we’re not making more alternate timelines. Once was enough. Gonna need some sort of temporal lock so anything you splinter off vaporizes after the jump...hey, Percy! Want to go over some purely theoretical time machine plans?”

Perceptor looked at Whirl, then looked at Brainstorm, then back at Whirl. “You do know I can hear you, right? Even when you’re not talking to me?”

“Well Primus-damn-it you should have mentioned having a superpower at some point before now, Percy,” Brainstorm said. He scooted back on his lab stool until they were sitting side by side. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And you get to safety check me so we don’t kill everyone or destroy the universe!”

“And if that isn’t the definition of fun, what is,” Perceptor said dryly. He shook his head. “It’d be nearly impossible for Whirl to go unnoticed in the past; you’d need to build him an attention deflector suit like Ravage used or he’d get himself killed by an angry mob.”

“And by ‘you’ you mean ‘we’,” Brainstorm agreed. “Come back next week, buddy, we’ll get right on it!”

“I was actually not agreeing,” Perceptor pointed out, with the air of a mech was used to losing a lot of stupid arguments.

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

Brainstorm had promised the case would take him to an “emotionally resonant moment”, no guarantees which one. Whirl had turned the dial almost all the way to the red, which Brainstorm had helpfully labeled “Long Time Ago”. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. Mostly he’d been expecting the thing to explode and Brainstorm to pop out of the woodwork to give him a PSA on why you shouldn’t ask your friends to make you time machines. He hadn’t expected a war.

He ducked under a sword swing and staggered back, shocked by the sheer noise of it. It looked like Brainstorm’s attention deflector whatsit was working, nobody was swinging at him on purpose. Still, he didn’t want to be accidentally killed either. He transformed and took off, spotting a nearby outcrop of rock where he could spectate.

From that vantage point he could see it wasn’t a war at all. It was the end of a losing battle. There was an army, arrayed in ranks of purple and gold across the field. And then there were the last survivors of some local militia bunched at the center of the mass. Their shieldwall was three bots deep and domed like a forcebubble but it was slowly being crushed between the mass of the army surrounding it. The mechs who hadn’t made it to the retreat to the shieldwall were outnumbered ten to one, poorly armed, and dying quickly.

And Cyclonus was down there somewhere.

It went on for longer than it had any right to. Whirl alternated between pacing and muttering “Just fucking surrender!” at the losing side. He didn’t like routs unless he was on the winning side.

A jet swooped down towards the field and the army pulled back to clear a space for him as he landed and transformed. Finally someone he recognized! And wherever Galvatron was, Cyclonus was sure to be nearby.

Galvatron signaled to his troops - because they were definitely his troops and the fighting stopped. “Defenders of the lower temples!” Galvatron bellowed. His voice seemed to shake the very rocks of the valley. “There will be no victory for you here today! If any of your leaders yet live, let them come forth and bargain for your lives.”

The shieldwall rippled, then broke. They dug their shields into the dirt in front of them, sheathed their swords and brought their lances to rest behind their shields. Two mechs stepped out from the front line. One was tall and slender, with white finials and absurdly pointy shoulders. The other was Cyclonus.

Oh, he looked different, but it was unmistakably him. His frame was a lush velvet blue, except for his arms smeared purple with gore. His bearing was proud, rigid, unforgettable.

Galvatron turned to the white mech. “Your name, soldier.” Whirl had to adjust up the gain on his audials to hear him, the near-silent movements of the crowd increasing like the roar of a river.

“Montalon.”

“I give you a choice, Montalon. Promise me your loyalty. Swear to me your spark and prove your use. If you do this I will spare your soldiers.”

The white mech ground their spear into the ground and answered in defiance. “My only loyalty is to the Lower Temples!”

The point of their spear clattered to the ground as Galvatron struck it down with his axe. Whirl glanced away before the beheading but he couldn’t mistake the sound. When he looked back Galvatron had shifted to point his axe at Cyclonus.

“And you. Is your loyalty also only to the lower temples? You cannot save them. You can still save your soldiers.”

Cyclonus stood silent for one awful moment. He looked to the head of his fellow commander, greying in the dirt at his feet. “Tell me the price, Lord Galvatron, and I will meet it.”

A great wailing rose up from the defeated soldiers behind him. Cyclonus hunched his shoulders, but did not turn to look. One of the soldiers tried to break away, a jet in black and gold, before being hauled back by his fellows.

“Peace, soldiers of the lower temples!” Galvatron called. His soldiers moved to circle them, weapons braced and shields raised. “I offer you mercy, for his sacrifice. Do not waste it.”

Whirl couldn’t tear his optic away from the black and gold jet, held up by three mechs and sobbing in their arms, all military composure gone.

Cyclonus stood like a statue, like an icon of an old god cast upon a plinth. But when Galvatron asked his name he answered in a voice ravaged by grief. First love, perhaps.

“I offer you the same bargain. Become my Warrior Secondus. Prove your worth and then swear to your spark to me, in fealty until death. If you do this I will offer your soldiers mercy, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex.”

“Who will I face, and when?” Cyclonus asked.

“You will face me. Now.” Galvatron said, voice warm with mirth.

If he hadn’t been looking so closely Whirl would have missed Cyclonus flinch. “Very well, Lord Galvatron,” Cyclonus said the name like a snake spitting venom. “Arms?”

Galvaton waved dismissively at Cyclonus. “Keep both swords. If you can cut me, the battle ends.”

“Understood.” Cyclonus said.

“Back three paces!” Galvatron bellowed. He raised his axe and dropped the pommel against the ground three times, the ranked soldiers retreating in an answering stomp-stomp-stomp. A matched set of guards with tall shields pushed their way to the front, forming a circle to mark the battlefield.

Galvatron hefted his axe and said, “Draw your weapon and attack, Cyclonus of Tetrahex. May you not disappoint me.”

Cyclonus stepped back, then back again, dropping his hands to the sword on his left. Then he was off, springboarding off a shield to swing his sword at the back of Galvatron’s neck. Galvatron moved the haft of his axe to block the cut and the blade rang out, shattering.

Whirl had taken Galvatron’s challenge to be a duel to first cut. He realized his mistake on the first swing of Gavatron’s axe, which caught Cyclonus across the shoulders as he landed. Cyclonus staggered away, broken sword in hand and pink streaming down his back like a cloak. The fight did not end.

It wasn’t that Cyclonus was a poor fighter, though Whirl expected he’d already been beyond exhaustion when the duel started. It was that the blades he was using were fucking useless. Cyclonus landed a stroke across Galvatron’s braced forearms and didn’t make a scratch, though the blade squealed in protest.

“A smart swordfighter never lets his blades grow dull,” Galvatron commented, as he rammed the pommel of his axe against Cyclonus’s helm, knocking him to the ground. Galvatron strode forward and raised his axe to make the final, fatal blow. Cyclonus lay there, releasing both his swords to sink his fingers into the dirt. He looked up at Galvatron and made no plea to stop.

The axe swung down and Cyclonus finally lurched into motion. His legs kicked out, throwing his body onto his side and knocking Galavtron off his feet. The axe buried itself in Cyclonus’s shoulder but his other arm was snapping up to grab Galvatron by the neck and drag him down onto his own axe.

The crowd couldn’t have been quieter if you knocked them all dead.

Galvatron’s knees hit the ground and he wrenched himself upright, revealing a cut half the length of his chest, gushing pink. Galvatron touched his hand to the cut and then took hold of the axe handle. Cyclonus’s left arm lay limp on the ground, the shoulder nearly severed. When Galvatron tore the axe free Cyclonus made his first noise of the fight, a ragged moan.

Whirl had seen corpses in better shape.

But slowly, oh so slowly, Cyclonus raised himself to his knees. Galvatron passed his axe off to some other soldier and took Cyclonus by the chin. “You may prove useful after all, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex. Now swear yourself to me.”

[harry-potter-fics-stuff]

Anonymous asked:

Could you offer us some hcs on Daphne Greengrass

wore glasses (they were pink and had a square frame)

had a stutter

avoidant personality disorder

dependent personality disorder

brilliant at dancing

wants to become an author

lesbian

pastels are her thing

cheekbones could cut through diamond

knows how to knit, sew and embroider

queen of the hourglass figure

mommy’s little angel

she and Astoria were twins

although she is twenty-four minutes older

her favorite color is purple

very frugal (her family went bankrupt for two years during her third and fourth years)

prefers time alone over social events

her poker face is stronger than anyone’s

low pain tolerance

has a tattoo of a rose on her left hip

best subject is herbology

had a very brief crush on luna lovegood in her sixth year

her first kiss was with pansy parkinson

she and pansy had an on-off fling (depending on if draco and pansy were a thing or not)

despised the weasleys (except percy, who she befriended)

moved to russia after the war and returned for astoria’s wedding

stayed because she and pansy would fall in love and eventually marry

speaks english and russian

[deadatthemorguee]

jercy headcanons

"pst" "what" "lets play monopoly" "youre fuckin on"

percy flips over the board once jason buys the boardwalk

jason screams just because he can

nico is their unofficial baby

late night drinking games

"take a shot every time markiplier says fuck playing golf with friends"

getting high and watching scooby doo

skipping classes to play wii sports at leo's apartment

jercy and solangelo going on double dates to the movies

only seeing marvel and horror movies

jercy loves going to kids movies

incredibles 2 was a game changer

"take a shot every time jacksepticeye screams playing getting over it"

what even are pants in the jercy household

jason doesnt cut his hair for a while and it gets just long enough for percy to put tiny pigtails in his little hairs uwu

percy's hair is curly if he uses coconut oil shampoo

jason encourages

when percy eventually needs glasses they get matching frames but jasons are gold

percy has severely bad eyesight in his right cornea

he thinks its because he poked himself in the eye with a crayon when he was four, even tho jason knows thats not the real reason

but he doesnt tell him

percy gets a cut on his lip fighting clarisse at the arena and now jercy has matching scars

jason calls them stapler bites

who told you pants were allowed??

applejuice

everywhere

jercy adopts twin babies

i mean seriously the applejuice is in the refrigerator, the extras are in the cabinet, and then two different minifridges in their room and on the patio

they love their applejuice

the twins are named zakiry and nicolas (after nico, it was a mutual decision)

jercy kids and solangelo kids like to play cops and robbers, but zak is bad at it and he trips and falls and gets lots of scrapes and bruises but hes a trooper and wants to be strong just like his dads

(solangelo has two girls and a boy: avery, dakota, and august)

jercy gets a cat even tho jason is a little allergic

he gets sneezy but he has meds to help it bc his kids adore little loki

no stop putting pants on the kids are gone and were goin pantsless

they got officially married with the liscense and everything before they adopted the twins but they didnt have ceremony until loki had kittens with a neighbour cat named creamcake

the twins were five and they put flowers on the floor and stuff for percy and jason to walk down it together in matching suits with dark purple shirts and indigo ties

the cake did not in fact have blue icing but white since they wanted a traditional looking go at it

but jason surprised his husband with some blue cake batter on the inside, and there was donuts at the reception with blue glaze and sprinkles

thats it boys gbye

[sceletus]

v̸̡̢̙̼̯̦͎͓̻͚͔̮̘̱̭͙̙͠ì͏̦̙̘̣̙̼̯͎̱̭̻͎́ͅ.̕͝͏̩̙͔̣̭̰͉̪̥͚ͅ

(music)

              her emergence from slumber was unexpectedly pleasant. fluttering eyelids greeted the rays of sun that pooled in from glass panes, and bare skin felt the pinpricks of lordaeron’s chill gathering—yet it was gradually being thwarted away by the radiating warmth of the inn’s hearth that came from below.

like all things, however, moments like this did not last long.

seize /sēz/ verb

1. take hold of suddenly and forcibly. 2. take (an opportunity or initiative) eagerly and decisively.

              cold claws clasped around her arms, forcing her down through the standard mattress of the standard room. they seized her, she fought against them—but it was a fruitless effort. those claws dug into her skin like talons.

              she was falling—no, sinking—down into the depths of an endlessly sightless expanse. fright gripped at her heart, seizing it almost as if it had stopped. had it? there was no familiar thrum, no coursing of blood through her veins to thwart the cold that seeped into her muscles.

              abruptly, her fall ceased. a world coalesced around her: the sea. the familiar sway of a sailing ship. her eyes snapped open to greet the sight and took in a breath of the heady ocean air; she could breathe, she felt warmth on her skin, she was alive—yet, where?

              it was that thought that spurred the scene around her to life. shouts and chatter of endless prattle, yelling commands and shouts of compliance from others. the recognition hit her like a surging tide:

              she was on the deck of the phantom’s hearth. it prospered, it was sound—not at the bottom of the sea. she could recognize faces: katrina, the weaponsmith; james, the boatswain—they were only a few of the faces she saw. she knew each of their names.

              among them all stood percy, the betrayer.

              “lookin’ a little perplexed there, doe.” the familiar voice came from behind her. “don’t tell me you’re getting seasick now.” a warm chuckle, echoing as a mirthful melody in her ears.

              she found the will to turn around, and what she presumed to be a feeling of fright was instead met by a surge of anguish that strewn itself over her features.

              it was rhys: living, encompassing every aspect of summer within his appearance. tanned skin, ebon hair, muddy eyes. she felt her heartbeat then: a poignant thrum that pounded against her ribcage. she couldn’t find the words to speak, but she heard her voice come forth anyway.

              “no, never. the sea’s a welcome home—i couldn’t be sick of it. just thinkin’.”

              the living rhys nodded, satisfied with the answer, though there was a glimmer of something underneath that: suspicion, especially when his gaze went beyond her and to the betrayer. he moved on, however, assuming to water duties he had in order to keep the ship on track.

              “the image you possess of me is so lambent, dear doe.”

              a cold grasp on her wrist betrayed the warmth of the sea. she looked to her right, peering upon the ghost of the man she’d just seen. seaweed and water, black eyes and rot—she should have known.

              “memories of happiness, they come to you whenever you feel it, do they not?” his voice possessed echoes behind it, each one lingering a beat later than the last. “it is a foolish thing to be entrapped in these. why can you not focus on the present?”

              almost as if on cue, memories of the previous night flooded back to her: warm touches, affectionate words—a promise of protection.

              “one who is trapped in their own shroud of mystery cannot protect you from what they cannot see.” a warmth found its way to her right hand, drawing patterns against the skeletal frame. “and one so arrogant will never be able to save you.”

              her jaw clenched, teeth gritting together with such indignation that she swore a tooth chipped. “why am i here?” venom laced her words.

              “you dance with your sins, your guilt,” the voices began, and the sailors that swarmed around her were impervious to it. “you reign over it as if you can run from it. but you cannot, dear doe, for you are do not possess the strength to.”

              the world shifted. day turned into night; the phantom was covered in atramentous hues, and rain rolled down in sheets. somewhere in the distance, thunder roiled mercilessly. faces of those she recognized earlier were strewn over the deck and the relentless rain washed away the crimson that pooled from the wounds on their heads.

              no, no, no, nonononono—

              she could see herself. kneeled forced down by an oaf’s brutish hands on her shoulders. her own held at her stomach, stained crimson by the blood that poured from a gunshot.

              looking down, it was immediately clear that she was not herself. masculine hands, grasping the handle of a flintlock pistol; strong legs, effortlessly pacing on the deck, unhindered by pouring rain.

              “a shame, isn’t it? they were all rightful sailors, and you turned them into marauders.”

              a voice spilled from her mouth that was not her own; it was the betrayer’s. the pacing stopped behind the final kneeling form, free hand coming to clasp upon the man’s shoulder as the gun was pressed to the back of his skull. black hair, wet from rain; tanned skin, pallid from fear. she couldn’t see rhys’ smile, but she knew it was there.

              the gun fired. blood and brain matter spilled before the victim.

              she yelled, she howled—deep from her lungs, full of anguish so harsh that one would believe they had been bloodied.

              the betrayer took a step back, fingers moving to strike at a match that resisted the rain’s will to extinguish it. she no longer took his form; instead, she felt herself—bared and ruinous, incorporeal to the rain that simply fell through her. the corpse of rhys briarthorne went slack, lifelessly slumped forward. in his place was the apparition that haunted her so. he did not face her, but his voice was spoken clearly as if he was. thunder clapped closer than before.

              “you have never been one for loyalty; you have drifted through life, scornful of settling and desperate for a home.” those words were familiar—she’d read them in a book, once, but the quote was wrong. it was different; twisted with malevolence yet interwoven with the sound of warmth. “he opened a gaping fissure in your being, an ache that heightened without his presence.”

              one step back, two; it took her to the edge of the ship, back pressed against the railing that was meant to keep one from falling overboard.

              “you followed it, embraced that ache like a child of your own. you were greeted by a chant that urged you to follow, follow, follow.” he laughed, and gods, what a harrowing sound. “it was a wonder to you, one you so willingly complied with. yet, now, you seek to fill that depthless hole with another?”

              the apparition—no, corpse, now. he was not fading; he looked real, present. there was a gaping wound set in once-tanned skin, eyes only just succumbing to the gradual fading ink of black. there was no seaweed, no seawater—not yet.

              “do you trust him, dear doe?”

              there it was again: trust. another grimace at the concept.

              “yes.”

              the ghost of rhys briarthorne appeared amused with her answer. “do you possibly believe that you could love him, dear doe?”

              yes, no, yes, no, yesnoyesnoyes—”perhaps.”

              the ghost stepped forward before vanishing, leaving a flurry of moths in his wake. she was foolish to believe that maybe, maybe that her words had cast him away. yet, that school of moths abruptly encroached. the storm abated, the ship underneath her feet fell. in the short span of a blink, she could feel sand at her toes, the severe polar temperature of water curling around her.

              a broken ship was buried in the sand before her, skeletons working on its deck. a warm memory that once was, now painted in desolation.

              the ghost appeared before her again, his hand raised to lift her chin in a way that was so familiar. she was forced to look up to him, to meet those eyes of endless void.

              “foolish, again,” he smiled. “that fissure on your soul will rot. a tender ache that will worry like the wound it is.” fawn could feel it: the slow corruption that pooled above her navel and branched out like veins. it furthered, intent on its path to her heart. “what atrocities i will inflict upon you will be felt until you have drowned in the depths of the sea.”

              the world suddenly gave way, returning to winter’s chill and the slow sound of water brushing against beams of a wooden dock. a flag of lordaeron fluttered beside her: she was back—real, tangible—in northgarde, stood upon the edge of the fortress and heels only an inch away from the gentle sea.

              (oh, how those waters welcomed her.)

              stricken with fear, fawn holmwood fell backwards—colliding with the wood beneath her that served as the only boundary between her and the water. mind still cloudy, body still recovering, eyes still adjusting, the only sight she was able to clearly discern in the mist was the sight of a purple moth, gliding down to rest upon her knee.