#survival knife for camper

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[ruegarding]

Hey, quick question if you don't mind me asking but what are your thoughts on Drew Tanaka as a character and how she was portrayed in HOO?

canon drew...well. i rbed this post that says "drew was not written as a character but rather a human obstacle who needed to be feminine so the ‘not like other girls’ could defeat her," and i think that summarizes it perfectly. she exists exclusively to make piper look good, which is a real shame bc drew could've been interesting. as-is, drew is not only uninteresting, piper is also uninteresting by extension. it'd be like if nancy was one of percy's greatest obstacles in tlt.

more under the cut bc i'm incapable of keeping things short.

here, in her introduction, not only is drew, a feminine girl, vain, she's also weak and unintimidating, a triple whammy right away! she has no reason to be antagonistic towards piper here, they literally just got to camp. piper's crime right now is *checks notes* not looking cute and existing next to a "good-looking guy." oh, yeah, btw drew likes jason for being hot and powerful.

this triple whammy isn't even restricted to drew, it's the entire aphrodite cabin. they all giggle when drew flirts w jason and when piper is uncomfortable being "gorgeous" and are too scared and weak to stand up to drew. the two exceptions are a guy who got in trouble for saying piper "might not be so bad" and a girl who's afraid of ugly shoes. what an uninteresting take.

anyway, moments like this

are everywhere. now, let's remember for a moment that the aphrodite cabin (including drew!) fought in a war where they were outnumbered and won. but yeah, their biggest strength is their ability to "make an orange t-shirt glamorous" bc piper is the only one out of them who can *checks notes* uhhh run? charmspeak on a quest? carry a knife? she doesn't even know how to fight in tlh! she wasn't at camp for more than two days, she never had any fighting experience! the fact that she's being called tougher than ppl who fought in a war makes me grit my teeth. and thalia was there when it happened!

and it doesn't even makes sense bc we see aphrodite like this is ttc

and she says this in tlh

(also sidenote: why is aphrodite's claiming so egregious and uncomfortable then? it's like rick has a moment of clarity and realizes he's being stupid and then immediately fucks it up again.)

this is interesting! and some of these kids (including drew!) would have met this aphrodite during the solstices. so portraying drew and the aphrodite cabin as a bunch of shallow kids obsessed w makeup that need to be saved by piper "not like other girls" mclean is so contrived. and constantly bringing up how piper's so much better than those shallow and weak aphrodite kids makes piper's entire character grating. rick brings up aneaus repeatedly throughout tlh, a son of venus/aphrodite that founded rome. why are we acting like aphrodite children are weak and stupid when we could be exploring literally anything else? like, you know, how they're traumatized?

and the thing is, he brings up silena! and it's done terribly. piper, who never knew silena and never will, lecturing drew, someone who knew silena and was betrayed by her, has always pissed me off. piper relating to silena bc she feels like she's in the same position? good, that's fine, i have no problem w this. but acting like she knew silena to ppl who actually did and then preaching abt what silena believed should've gotten her smacked (rick didn't even addressed the actual important part, which is how the other campers feel abt silena or how they feel abt surviving a war).

then when piper challenges drew, again, drew fought in a war while piper hasn't trained for a single day, why are we acting like piper could beat drew in a fight? piper can't even use charmspeak bc drew's resistant to it! that's the one advantage piper has! writing it like this comes off like piper is only strong as long as everyone else is weak. she's not rising to a challenge, her competitor is just so pathetic that she can overpower them. she didn't earn her strength. that's not good character development! so we're throwing two entire character arcs away for this!

what really gets me abt all of this is that piper didn't need to be a counselor. piper needed a place to belong. making drew nothing more than a stepping-stone was completely unnecessary, and making the aphrodite cabin weak and vain was redundant bc we already had an example w silena (and again, all the kids that fought in a war). as it is in canon, drew's character is a great example of some of rick's biggest writing flaws.

[wormlette]

some thoughts about supplies, camping and pack weight

From the adventurer's bible. It got me thinking about the logistics of supply management for adventuring parties. Maybe it will be useful for others too.

We're using Chilchuck as an example because he's my baby boy. Chil is 110cm and his BMI is 18. He is canonically underweight to avoid setting off traps because he's larger than the average half-foot. Actually, I think there's a decent chance the "low weight" the adventurer's bible mentions he tries to stay under is approx 50lbs.

Given that, his backpack should weigh 10lbs or less, although it's probably more.

Ideally, the modern advice is that if you are going backpacking - hiking for multiple days - you want your pack weight to be 20% or less of your body weight. (We can assume dwarves like Senshi are able to carry quite a bit more, although it would affect their stamina.) The reason I said "it's probably more" for Chil is that 10lbs is incredibly light. Even high-tech modern backpacks are going to be at least a couple of lbs, and the dunmeshi supplies seem to be made of much more durable (less lightweight) material. If all Chilchuck was carrying was an empty backpack and the bedroll, it wouldn't be surprising if those items were more than 10lbs alone.

Even if the inhabitants of dunmeshi don't have to carry all the things backpackers do, their basic gear weight is going to be not insubstantial. We can presume nobody carries tents, because we see them sleeping on their bed rolls (however given the terrain further down in the dungeon, it seems like you might eventually need the extra weight of a bivy or some kind of shelter for a group.)

I think magic would simplify a lot of the problems with real backpacking. There's magic to ensure fires can stay lit, there's the fountains that always have potable water so there's no need to have supplies to boil or disinfect it… Magic can also be used for light, as we see Marcille do. That would be important to save weight compared to using things like lanterns, altho we do see the group carrying candles, seemingly for timekeeping on watch at least.

Their bed rolls probably weigh the most - they look like old army-style sleeping bags that would likely have padding built in to function like a sleeping pad does for a modern camper (both literal padding and also insulation to keep your heat from seeping into the ground and you freezing)

Changes of clothes would likely still be necessary not just for hygiene reasons. If you got separated from your fire source and got wet, it's easy to become hypothermic and wander off and die. The dungeon is probably not exactly warm.

As far as misc things, you'd need repair kits if possible, at least a sewing kit like Chil carries, most likely a multipurpose knife, cookware, rope, a water skin…

I sort of suspect that if you were a really savvy dungeoneer, you would consider keeping supplies on the 4th floor somewhere secret. It would be difficult to do because of monsters, orcs and, as time goes on, less scrupulous adventurers, but having something like a raft with supplies you could bring down to the 5th floor and deeper would be a huge boon to people trying to do deeper expeditions without getting utterly bogged down by weight. That or hiring people who are specifically there to just carry stuff and maybe aren't very armored or something to save on weight, but even then, you'll have to feed them.

I think half-foots would carry things that aren't heavy but are bulky or difficult to compress, which would therefore save volumetric space in other group members' packs for the heavier items. I'm guessing things like spare clothing, blankets, some cookware… This could lead to half-foots who get separated not having crucial survival supplies, though.

[freddie-77-ao3]

For The Children That’ll Never Grow (Hope Should Have Left Humanity)

(clips)

In the Gardens of Bacchus, long after Reyna has left them, Octavian and Jason stay, drinking cold hot chocolate. Jason is putting on a show, making lightning mimic campers. At one point, he loses control, and a grapevine catches fire. They watch as it burns to ash. 

Octavian traces his spine with a finger, pulls in for a kiss, and whispers in his ear, you are capable of such beautiful destruction. 

From Octavian, it must be true. 

~~~~

On the way to Orthys, Octavian insists on sitting by his side. Jason leans into his touch. This may be the last time he sees his… his Octavian alive. 

Jason murmurs, “What if we fail?” against Octavian’s skin, barely audible in the frenzied sedan. But the way Octavian tenses means Jason knows that he’d heard it. 

Octavian swallows a lump in his throat. “It’ll end in fire. But, Jay, we won’t be the ones to burn.”

They’ll be dead. The Twelfth legion will be dead long before the mortal world begins burning. Jason’s throat bobs. “Yeah. I, uh, I love you, Tavi.”

“Love you too, Jay.” They sit in silence the rest of the drive.

They stay in silence after the drive too. When the fourteen year old is made Praetor, raised on the shield, still covered in the sticky ichor of the titans and the blood of the last Praetor. 

When Octavian has to guide him away from the bunks Jason has lived in since he was five. Has to wrangle him into the shower, carefully caressing scabs and still open cuts. 

Because these two boys are fourteen, and they love each other. These two boys are fourteen, and they have no idea what’s coming.

~~~

Sometimes, Jason likes it when he cries. The tears blur his sight, until he can pretend even airplanes are shooting stars across the night sky. 

When he wishes on them, it’s always for the same thing. For a family. For a sister (his sister, buried beneath tree branches, untouchable and locked away). A mother and a father too if he is lucky. 

~~~

Octavian lays down next to him on his bed in the Praetor’s room. He traces the nape of his neck. “You, Jason Grace, have been cursed with a great raisin d’etre. But it’s okay. You’ll live, you’ll survive.” Octavian doesn’t add that he only knows that Jason will survive longer than he will, and that Octavian will likely be dead before two years are out. Doesn’t add that from what Octavian has seen of Jason’s death, it is creeping closer, closer, close too. 

~~~

When Octavian gets cold, he gets cold. He gets cold deep in his bones, where it doesn’t leave for weeks. Jason found it funny, once, back when they were ten or so, because Octavian looked like a goddamned marshmallow, wrapped up in three pairs of pants, 2 shirts, a sweater, and a jacket. (And don’t even get him started on the socks). 

The point is, it was funny once, how much Octavian dreaded the cold. Once. Just not anymore. Because Octavian doesn’t care about the cold. Jason can see him shivering on his father’s altar at all hours of the day, but when Jason tries to persuade him to come down, he just… doesn’t. He says there’s no time.

Time for what? He had asked once, laughing. War’s over, Tavi. We have nothing but time. 

Octavian had scowled. Had told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. Then, he had pressed a knife into Jason’s hand, and told him to go stay in his room. 

Why? Tavi, we’re fine. War’s over, we survived. It isn’t over, he had responded, not yet.

~~~

"I need to sleep." Reyna admits, because she's always been able to advocate for herself. It's also her saying that she's overwhelmed, not that Octavian would judge her for simply saying it. "But call if you need me."

He won’t. Jason Grace is missing– possibly dead. But Octavian can’t tell Reyna this. Can’t tell anyone. Because that makes it all real, and if it’s real, Octavian can’t stand himself. So it isn’t real. Simple as that. 

[fanficwritingcentral]

This is Sparta! (AO3 link)

Summary: What happens when an immortal Spartan Prince needs something to do and decides that best thing is to make sure each generation of heros at least knows how to survive.

Or, Percy experiences his first Spartan training day at Camp.

Notes: This came to me with a vivid image of a grinning Hyacinthus standing in the middle of camp and Percy thinking this is the most attractive man I've ever seen and then I was like wait, why would Hyacinthus be there and then you get this.

Hope you enjoy 😘✌️.

Percy had started his first summer at Camp Half-blood after his quest (totally not thinking about the last line of the prophecy that hadn't come true yet), and after a few weeks, he finally got used to the routine things.

He'd wake up, get ready, have breakfast and then do whatever activities he'd assigned himself (yay being the only member of the Poseidon cabin).

Today he woke up like any other day, got ready like any other day and had breakfast like any other day.

He sat at his table, ate blue pancakes and let himself get absorbed in the noise of all the other campers chatting with each other at their tables (he was totally not feeling alone).

As Percy and the other campers finished their food, Chiron chimed his cup with his knife, cutting through the noise, Mr D. next to him not even twitching at the sound. "Heros, today we'll be doing Sparta day!" He announced once he had everyone's attention, "make sure to prepare yourselves and meet at the Big House in two hours time!"

All the campers cheered at the news, especially the Ares cabin who roared their approval. Soon, everyone began to chant Sparta while banging their fists on the table.

What was Sparta day, Percy thought as he looked around at everyone in confusion, and what does Chiron mean in preparing yourself. He tried to spot Annabeth at her table to see how she felt about this and saw that she was grinning and banging her fists in excitement like all the others.

Hopefully she can explain this to him after.

Hopefully.

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

"Sparta day is where we train like the Spartans used to." Annabeth said as she stood outside her cabin with Percy, making sure she had her cap, dagger and what seemed to be a golden compass that Percy had never seen her have before.

"Oh, ok" said Percy who had no idea how the Spartans used to train, "and what exactly is that like?"

Annabeth looked at him with a wild grin, "it's survival training, Lord Hyacinthus comes to camp-"

"Lord Hyacinthus?" Percy cut in, "isn't that Apollo's old boyfriend person?"

"Yes," answered Annabeth and then opened her mouth to continue on with her explanation.

But, "isn't he supposed to be a flower?" Percy asked, he was sure he knew this story.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and waved a hand, "that's old news, Seaweed brain," she said, "he got better."

"Oh." Percy didn't want to risk asking how does one get better from being a flower, he could feel Annabeth was getting a little inpatient.

"Now," Annabeth said, "as I was saying. Lord Hyacinthus comes to camp and sends everyone over 10 years old into a random area in the woods and we have until the sun sets to get back. Younger and newer campers like you are sent to areas closer and older and experienced campers like me are sent further."

Percy rolled his eyes at how proud Annabeth sounded with including herself as a more experienced camper than him. "What can we take with us?"

Annabeth patted her pockets, "only what can fit in here."

"What happens if we don't make it out in the time limit?"

"Lord Hyacinthus brings you back in front of everyone and it's the worst. Everyone knows you failed and you have to wait until next Sparta day to redeem yourself."

"Got it, get back in time or face ultimate shame."

"Exactly." She nodded.

"Thanks for that Wise Girl," Percy brushes a hand through his hair, "now I guess I need to get ready."

Annabeth raised her eyebrow, "do you know what you'll need?"

"Uh," he paused, "yes?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes, "come on Seaweed brain, let's go get you ready."

~~~~~~~~~

Percy made his way back to the the Big House with Annabeth and joined in with the crowd of campers that had gathered outside. The campers chatted about what might happen in the training and the air buzzed with their excitement.

Chiron stood in front of them all and next to him stood an extremely beautiful man that almost looked feminine, with wild hair, smooth tan skin and a perfectly symmetrical face. The man also wore a wreath of leaves on his head. Percy was sure he had never seen him before, but something about him felt familiar.

Percy elbowed Annabeth, "who's that," he whispered to her, nodding to the beautiful man with crossed arms looking over everyone with a frown that did nothing to dampen his attractiveness, "is that Lord Hyacinthus?"

Annabeth snorted, "definitely not Seaweed Brain, that's Mr D."

Percy quickly looked back at the man, "are you serious?"

"Yep," she said, "everytime Lord Hyacinthus visits, Mr D. always changes his form to that."

"Why?" Percy asked looking back at her.

Annabeth's face became a little pink and avoided Percy's eyes, "well, Lord Apollo named Lord Hyacinthus most beautiful among men for a reason."

"Do you mean Mr D. likes his brother's boyfriend," Percy whispered harshly to Annabeth, "doesn't he have a wife?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "This is the Greek Parthenon," she said with a hint of exasperation. "Everyone cheats on everyone here."

Her face flushed again as she continued, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Look, you’ll understand better once you meet Lord Hyacinthus."

Percy snorted and turned back to the two Camp Directors, "ok Wise Girl, ok."

"Attention Heros!" Chiron shouted, ensuring all eyes were on him, "Lord Hyacinthus will be here soon. Make sure you have everything you believe is necessary to survive in the woods. Those under ten years old, you will be doing your daily activities as normal with some weapons training later on with Lord Hyacinthus."

The older campers let out loud groans at these words.

"Tomorrow will be your turn as it has always been." Chiron said in a long suffering tone.

He then cleared his throat, "Now, let me go over the rules again, for the new campers, first timers and veterans of survival training."

But, just as Chiron opened his month announcing rule one, the sound of an engine cut him off. As the sound got closer and louder, Percy could tell it was the sound of a motorbike, and looking around Percy saw campers nudging each other with grins. Annabeth next to him stood straighter and her grey eyes glimmered with excitement, "is this Lord Hyacinthus?" Percy whispered to her.

"Yes," she whispered back, "now stop talking."

Percy crossed his arms and huffed, suddenly a motorbike braked right in front of where Chiron and Mr D stood. The motorbike was a pearlescent white with images of swans detailed all over it. The man on the bike wore dark blue denim jeans and a black leather jacket, his helmet glimmered gold and when he took it off, it uncovered dark loose curly hair.

"I'll take it from here Chiron," Lord Hyacinthus said with a smooth voice and an audible grin, "and Dionysus," he paused then continued with a deeper voice, "don't you look well."

Mr D smirked, "nice to see you too, Hyacinthus."

The two looked at each other for a while and as they did the temperature seemed to get hotter, the sun shone brighter and just before it started to get uncomfortable, Lord Hyacinthus turned around. "Touchy, touchy," he said laughing softly and then smiled widely at everyone.

Finally seeing his face, Percy understood what Annabeth meant. Lord Hyacinthus was the most beautiful man he had ever seen, even more than how Mr D made himself look. Lord Hyacinthus' hair curled artfully around his smooth tanned face, unblemished other than a stark white scar near his left eyebrow that seemed to go into his hair. His grin was warm and inviting and made his purple eyes crinkle attractively.

Percy felt his cheeks tingle and his face went warm as he looked at Lord Hyacinthus and knew that he was bright red. Having a quick look around, he was thankful to see that he wasn't the only one looking flustered.

"Now," Lord Hyacinthus clapped his hands and rubbed them, "who's ready for survival day!"

All the campers cheered and Percy tried to subtly rub his ears from the noise as Annabeth cheered along right next to him.

Lord Hyacinthus laughed, "Wonderful! Now before I tag on from Chiron and go over the rules that I'm sure most of you know, I'd like to shout out to my wonderful beautiful children. I love you and I'm proud of you, you're doing amazing and we'll talk later," he then made a heart shape with his hands. Percy could hear a few low groans in response and swore he heard someone say quietly "by the gods dad stop who taught you that."

The God held the heart shaped over his head and turned side to side, ensuring everyone saw it. Bringing his hands down he then continued on, "Now, for survival day rules. Rule one: you must only take what you can hold on your body. Rule two: you must not seek to harm or sabotage another camper. Rule three: you must make it back here before sunset. Rule four:," he grinned sharply, "survive."

A sharp clap sounded in the area and Percy felt a slight weight in his pocket. What is that, Percy thought and reached in to the pocket and took out a golden compass he had seen Annabeth hold earlier.

"The compass you newbies now hold," Lord Hyacinthus said while bringing down his hands, "are all pre set to point back to camp, they are only pre set for this year, next year you're on your own. Is everything understood?"

The campers screamed "YES!" collectively and Percy again rubbed his ears.

Lord Hyacinthus laughed, "Excellent! Now," he brought his hands out, "get to it." And clapped sharply again.

Percy blinked and found himself suddenly in the middle of the woods. The noise of the creaking trees, leaves rustling and bugs buzzing now surrounded him. "Ok," he said to himself, " I just have to get back to camp, easy."

He looked at the thick forest of trees in front of him, holding Riptide in pen form in one hand and the compass in the other, "just easy."

[tsarisfanfiction]

Truth Comes Out of His Well (Chapter 14)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Kronos, Apollo, Apollo Cabin (and many more) As always, @stereden is responsible for the accompanying podfic! There is a tissue warning for this chapter, per stereden's insistence. I'd say I'm sorry, but... << Chapter 13 Listen to chapter 14 on AO3

Lee didn’t tell Tris that Kronos had lied.  Maybe it was cruel, but he couldn’t let Tris think that it was because of him, that Lee hadn’t warned Silena because if he had, Tris would’ve died.

Even if that was the truth.

Tris didn’t need the guilt from that; it hadn’t been his decision, it had been Lee’s choice to make and it was one he would take the responsibility for, if it came down to it.  If they didn’t manage to escape whatever trap Kronos was going to set.

Kronos had grilled him on Silena’s lies, the same as usual, while Alabaster continued to hold Tris at knife point, so by the time the two of them had been left alone again, Tris throwing himself at Lee for more of their pale imitations of hugs, Lee’s tears had dried.

His brother hadn’t let go of him until their next visitor, one carrying food and fresh torches to replace the ones that had almost burnt themselves out.

The fallout of Silena’s lies happened gradually.

It wasn’t usual for Kronos to meet with his demigods in front of Lee.  Sometimes he did, as a test of their loyalty, but for the most part Kronos seemed to prefer saving his truth sensing abilities for his spies.

Lee hadn’t seen Reuben in a long time, and had hoped that meant he’d been stationed elsewhere, so he didn’t have to deal with the Roman demigod glowering at him and still reminding him of Marcus, the kid Lee had never met but mourned regardless.  He was not happy when Kronos led him into his cell, and the way he tensed must have alerted Tris, who was curled up next to him, because his younger brother raised his head and watched the new arrival cautiously.

Reuben sneered at both of them, but didn’t say anything.  His shoulder was bandaged, blood spotting through the fabric, and his arm was stuck in a sling.  Lee realised then that he must have been involved in one of the raids one of the spies had reported, and hoped none of the campers, from either camp, had been killed.

“My flying chariot,” Kronos said, his voice level but frozen cold, dangerous.  “What happened?”

Reuben sent Lee another filthy look before focusing on the titan, straightening his spine.  “As expected, we were attacked yesterday,” he reported.  “There were almost twice the numbers we had been told about – the graecus spawn of Mars were led by that bitch with an electric spear.”  He spat, carefully away from Kronos but not so carefully away from Lee and Tris.  “We were prepared for them and drove them back, only for the fucking archers to ambush us from behind.”

Lee and Tris both froze, and Silena’s lie suddenly made sense.  It was the Apollo cabin, with the Ares cabin, always was going to be, but Silena had kept them quiet as what, some sort of apology to Lee?  She was willing to throw Clarisse into the lion’s den but decided to protect the Apollo cabin?

While Lee couldn’t say he was mad that his siblings had been given an advantage and a greater chance of survival, he was still mad that she was spying at all, and that, worse, she was picking and choosing who to endanger.  Silena and Clarisse were supposed to be friends.

Then again, Silena was supposed to be his friend, too.  So much for that.

The look Kronos sent Lee told him that the titan, too, had realised the omission and why.  Disconcertingly, a smirk crossed his face, which Lee didn’t like at all.  He expected anger, not satisfaction.

“And my chariot?”

“The fucking archers,” Reuben repeated.  “Their bastard leader snuck on while the Mars spawn led a second frontal assault, and started raining arrows down on us.”

He threw something down on the ground, broken and blood-stained, but it wasn’t the sharp point of the arrow that caught Lee’s attention, but the fletching.  Feathered vanes, two red and one gold.

Lee would know Michael’s arrows anywhere.

“When I get my hands on that fucker…” Reuben snarled, and Lee tensed, even though he knew he couldn’t do anything.  Listening to his younger brother get threatened did not sit well with him at all.

“If he continues to be a presence on the gods’ side of the war, I am sure you will get an opportunity,” Kronos said mildly, and Lee hated that it was true.  He also hated that Michael was on Kronos’ radar, but he knew his younger brother well enough to know that even if he wasn’t head counsellor, if Lee was still in camp and in charge, Michael would still be causing enough of a nuisance for Kronos to get on his radar.

Michael had a talent for that.  Just ask Clarisse.

The rest of Reuben’s report was much the same; a recounting of how Michael had turned their own flying chariot into a weapon against them as the other archers rained arrows into them and the Ares campers destroyed the convoy.

They hadn’t killed anyone, though.  Injuries had happened – on both sides, Reuben made sure to specify, seeming entirely too happy about hurting Lee’s siblings and friends – and some of them seemed to be nasty, but neither side had lost any demigods.

Monsters had been a different case, but Lee didn’t mind that, not when monsters were the constant threat.  He still wasn’t sure how the defected demigods were managing to work with them without living in fear of being attacked.

Neither Reuben nor Kronos stayed in the room after the report was finished; Reuben hadn’t lied, and Kronos clearly saw no reason to believe he had.  Sadly, while Reuben stalked out of the room without picking up Michael’s arrow, Kronos wasn’t so unobservant.  He hadn’t left Lee with anything that could possibly be a weapon for a year, and had yet to slip up.  He scooped it up off of the floor, admiring the fletching for a moment, before walking out of the room.

The door slammed shut and the bolt slid into place.

Tris curled up against Lee’s side again.  “Michael’s in danger,” he mumbled.

“He was already in danger,” Lee admitted.  “We’ve all been in danger since Luke stole the lightning bolt.  Michael’s smart enough not to take stupid risks.”  There were other reasons why he might, but Lee wasn’t going to dwell on those.  He certainly wasn’t going to let Tris dwell on them.

His brother mumbled something indistinctly, shuffling in place a little bit.  Then, “he showed them,” he muttered, loud enough for Lee to hear him.  “Kronos and his followers.  They underestimated him and he made them pay.”

Lee had to smile at least a little bit at that, even if he was still worried that Michael was painting too big a target on himself to be able to keep pulling the underestimation off.  “Yeah, he did,” he still said, because he was still a little proud of him for it.

The second fallout of Silena’s lies came a few meals and bathroom visits later.

Alabaster threw the door open and stalked in, not giving either of them so much as a greeting before grabbing hold of Tris, prying him away from Lee, and hauling him bodily out of the room as the younger boy fought to get free, screaming when he realised he couldn’t.  Lee’s wrists took another battering as he tried to lunge forwards, to get to his little brother, only to be pulled up short by the restraints the same way he always was.

“Tris!” he shouted.  “Tris! ”

“Lee! ” Tris screamed back, but he was no match for the son of Hecate and was all but carried away.  Alabaster slammed the door shut behind them, trapping Lee in his room.

It was the first time he’d been left alone in the room with the door shut.

He hated it.

Tris’ screaming quickly faded away, once the door was shut, and no amount of struggling got Lee free from the cuffs.  No amount of shouting or screaming got any response, either, and Lee was left staring helplessly at the closed door, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The last time Tris was torn away from him, it was for Michael’s report meeting, and he’d been returned quickly afterwards.  Kronos had been there, though.  The titan’s absence this time felt like a lack.

He knew that Kronos likely wasn’t around.  He’d been spending more time on the Princess Andromeda – Lee’s spine hadn’t so much as tingled when the titan had said it, so it was true – waiting for the reported sabotage attack.  It was to give the camp’s spies the illusion that the boat really was Kronos’ primary base, but Lee hadn’t really cared as long as it kept the titan far, far away from him and Tris.

Now, he did care, because he didn’t know why Tris had been taken, and if they hurt him…  Lee didn’t know why they would, when neither of them had done anything to provoke Tris being hurt, but the look in Reuben’s eyes when he’d threatened Michael, the glowers some of the other demigods had sent him when they saw him…

He was crying again, terrified of what was happening to his little brother and hating his helplessness.  Hating, hating, hating it.

When the door opened again, the bolt sliding back with a grating squeal, his heart jumped up into his throat.  Hope, that Tris was coming back.  Fear, that Tris was hurt.

Kronos’ golden eyes were the first thing he saw.  The second was the large, dark figure next to him.  Not Tris.

Then Kronos shoved hard and the other figure stumbled in, crashing to the floor the same way Tris had, that first time Alabaster had thrown him in.  The titan didn’t even bother entering the room, shutting the door without a word and trapping Lee and his new companion in together.

Lee did not like the implications.  Where was Tris?

And who had just been locked in with him?

The large figure laid down, still on the floor for several long moments, before rolling over with a groan.  Their hands were tightly secured behind their back, and the torches were bright enough that Lee could see that they were mutilated, fingers crushed.

The figure groaned again, awkwardly pulling themselves up onto their knees, and Lee’s heart sank.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see Beckendorf, really.  The son of Hephaestus was a good guy, friendly with everyone, and Lee couldn’t see him agreeing to be mutilated for a deception.  It was just that they were both prisoners, now, and Kronos’ lie to Silena was ringing in his ears, the promise that he would spare the second demigod infiltrator that had sounded so sincere, if Lee hadn’t known differently.

Beckendorf made sense.  Silena loved him; Lee could believe her lying to try desperately to keep him safe, even if it meant throwing Percy and other key demigods in the war effort in front of the manticore.  Beckendorf made a painful amount of sense, and Lee hoped he could find a way out, somehow.

Somehow.

Beckendorf groaned again, but it was quieter, and in the torchlight, his dark eyes flickered amber.  Lee suspected he had a concussion – he didn’t look overly aware of his surroundings, even if he was still able to move.  That didn’t bode so well for escaping.

Those dark eyes settled on Lee, and widened.

“Lee?” he rasped, shuffling closer on his knees. He wavered from side to side, but managed to close the distance between them in short order.  “Lee, is that you?”

Lee wasn’t a short guy.  He was considerably taller than Tris – understandable, given that Tris still had a growth spurt or two left to hit – and a similar height to Luke.  Most of the demigods working for Kronos were shorter than Kronos-as-Luke, which meant that even though he was usually trapped sitting down, Lee still didn’t feel short.

Beckendorf was a big guy.  Even on his knees, injured and concussed, Lee felt dwarfed next to him.  He knew that several new kids tended to find Beckendorf intimidating, with his build, even though he was actually one of the sweetest temperaments in camp.  To Lee, it was almost a comfort, to be in his shadow again.

“Yeah,” he said, raising his head to meet his friend’s eyes.  Beckendorf only held his gaze for a moment, before he was looking at the restraints, thick cuffs of metal that Lee had long since learned to hate.

“How long have you been here?” the other demigod asked him, wavering in place again and bracing his shoulder against the wall to stay upright.  “You look awful.”  He sounded worried, but Lee was far more worried about him.

“You need to worry about yourself,” he said.  “You’ve got to get out of here, Beckendorf.”

Despite the concussion, Beckendorf’s eyes were determined.  “You need to get out of here,” he said.

“I can’t,” Lee admitted, even though he really, really wanted to.  “They’ve got Tris.  If I misbehave…” he broke off in a choked-up sob.  “Get out, Beckendorf,” he said.  “They don’t want me dead. I’ve survived this long.  I can survive a bit longer.  You… they’re going to kill you.”

Beckendorf let out a sigh that sounded fatally amused.  “I told Percy the same thing,” he murmured.  “To run and leave me.  I hope he got out in time.”  He steeled himself, pulling himself up using his shoulder against the wall.  “If I manage it, I’ll come back for you, Lee,” he promised.  “You and Tris.”  Lee managed a thin smile.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Watching him stagger, with his ruined hands clamped behind his back and a thick, heavy metal door bolted from the outside between him and freedom, Lee knew Beckendorf’s odds of actually escaping were slim to none.

Still, he tried to send out a prayer, to Apollo, to Hephaestus.  Please, Dad, Lord Hephaestus.  Get him out.   Apollo hadn’t responded to any of his prayers since he’d arrived, so Lee was pretty certain that Kronos was somehow blocking them, but he still had to try.

Beckendorf had scarcely taken two stumbling steps towards the door when it flew open, Kronos breezing in.  He was followed by Ethan, who looked a little bit singed and disquiet, and Alabaster, who mimicked Kronos’ sweeping walk.  Like Ethan, he showed signs of getting a little too close to something that went boom.

Kronos looked completely untouched.

He was also carrying a massive scythe, and Lee had heard about Backbiter in passing, both back in camp when Percy had garbled an explanation of where Luke had gone, and also from some of Kronos’ demigods since his capture.

A single sharp gesture had the two demigods grabbing onto Beckendorf, and the concussion seemed to delay his reactions just a split second too long.  When he went to fight back, his muscular bulk a weapon even when he didn’t have the use of his arms, Alabaster whacked him in the back of the head with the hilt of Ethan’s sword.

Beckendorf crumpled to the ground, and Lee’s stomach started climbing up his throat, because he knew Kronos had no plans to let Beckendorf live, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he might kill him right there, in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a part of him that was glad Tris was elsewhere, a stroke of luck to spare the preteen from seeing someone else killed in front of him.

Neither Ethan nor Alabaster were particularly bulky; Ethan was a lithe swordsman, and Lee had yet to work out what Alabaster’s weapon of choice was, although he was clearly talented with magic.  Between the two of them they just about got Beckendorf dragged up onto his knees again.  Dazed from the blow to the back of his head, which had probably given him another concussion on top of the first one, Beckendorf didn’t even fight back.

The silver bracelet dropped to the floor, and Silena appeared.  She looked nervous, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight broadcast towards her.

“Charlie?” she whispered.  “Charlie? ”

Beckendorf stirred.  Lee couldn’t see his face, but he saw the confused tilt of his head.  “Silena?  Silena… Lee.   Silena, you have to… Lee… Tris…  Kronos has them… Save them. ”

He didn’t seem to care that Kronos was in front of him.  He didn’t seem to realise why he could see Silena, either, and Lee started to sob.  Maybe it was a blessing that Beckendorf was concussed enough to not realise she was a spy, that she was the one that had betrayed him.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Silena said, softly, but there were tears running down her face, and there was the awkwardness of uncertainty in her voice.  “You’re safe, now.  You’re all safe.  And once this is over-”

Kronos stepped closer, forcing himself into the centre of attention.  “I hate to break up this touching conversation,” he said, “but I have one small correction to make.”

The scythe whistled through the air, coming to a halt resting next to Beckendorf’s neck.  Ethan and Alabaster both made themselves short, crouching down underneath the trajectory of the swing.

Silena gasped, and her eyes filled with horror.  “My Lord-”

“You lied to me, Silena,” he said.  “Actions have consequences, you stupid girl.  I have been generous, sparing the lives of the campers because they are only children who do not understand, yet this is how you repay me?”

“No, no-”  Her hands came up to her mouth in horror.  For the first time in years, her tears started to make a mess of her make-up.  “No, my Lord, you said- you said you’d spare-”

“So I did,” Kronos agreed.  “But tell her, Lee.  You knew, after all.”

She blinked, as though she hadn’t even noticed Lee was there.  Lee had been quite content to not be noticed.  “Lee?”

“Yes, Lee,” Kronos mimicked when he didn’t respond immediately.  “Tell her.”

There was a threat in the tone, a promise that if he didn’t, there would be a price to pay, and Lee couldn’t risk Tris.  He couldn’t.

He raised his head, and she recoiled, probably at his tear-stained face and what it meant.

Lee didn’t take any pleasure from what was effectively an I told you so.  “He lied,” he rasped hoarsely.  “He lied and he’s got Tris and I couldn’t tell you.”  It was a warning far too late to be of any good.

Kronos smirked, a far darker look than Luke would have ever pulled.  “From the mouth of our own lie detector,” he said.  “Actions have consequences, Silena.  Let this be a warning.  The next time you lie to me, I’ll burn your entire camp to the ground.”  He pulled the scythe back.  “Any last words for your betrayed love?”

“No, no, no,” Silena sobbed.  “Charlie I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.  No, please, don’t, my Lord, please-”

“Silena,” Beckendorf mumbled, and she fell silent.  “Silena, I love you.”  He raised his head and looked straight at her.  “Save them.”

The scythe fell.

tbc...

[ask-half-blood-hill]

Meet the Demigods: Nathan Delacroix

Good morning, campers! Live from Cabin Two, it's Sephora! Today, we're bringing you a special interview on 'Meet the Demigods!' You all know him, you all adore him. He's the easy, breezy, and just so pleasing son of Zeus- Nathan!

Q1: Can you describe how you look?

"I have shaggy brown hair, blue eyes- like the sky- and pale skin. I'm about five foot ten, and I'm fifteen years old. I don't usually socialize much, but I'm not opposed to making friends. I always have emergency equipment on me, so if you're in a pinch, just holler and I'll be there!"

Q2: As a child of Zeus, what's it like being the top of the demigod tierlist?

"Expectations are really... stressful. I mean, I know I'm strong, but there's tons of demigods here that are easily stronger than I am! I look up to everyone, more than they should look up to me. My dad is King of the Gods, but please don't think of me as the pinnacle of demigod strength and status..."

Q3: What do you have in your bag?

"Survival equipment- you never know when you'll need it. Rope, matches, ambrosia, nectar, bandages, splints, money and drachmas, a celestial bronze pocket knife, a multi-tool, and a small cooking pot. What's the pot for? Boiling water to make it safe to drink."

Q4: What's your mom like?

"I don't have a mom. Actually, I have two dads- Zeus, and my mortal dad. It's not really unheard of for Zeus to fall for a man, especially my dad. He's a model, so of course he's got the attention of Zeus... I was kind of left on a doorstep and the rest is history."

Q5: Is there anyone in camp you like hanging out with?

"The Demeter kids are really cool, and calm. Aurora and I often take care of the gardens outside of the cabin, and Elliot and I go for hikes in the forest when the event-summoned monsters are gone. Lillian likes drawing, and I have tons of her doodles up in my cabin."

Q6: How do you feel about the other Big Three kids?

Jasper scares me, and he's definitely the powerhouse of every demigod here- he just hides it. Reagan is also pretty strong, and a lot more forward. She's nice, but she definitely has an issue when her strength is questioned. It comes from her home life, I know- but still... I'd stay on both their good sides. They have this sort of rivalry with each other..."

Q7: If you could design the Zeus cabin, what would you do to make it more comfortable?

"Maybe turn it from a cold marble temple into an actual cabin. Wood floors, painted walls, and statues that don't stare into your eyes when you're trying to get ready for the day. I know dad likes his presence being known but... Really, that statue creeps me out..."

Q8: I've always wondered- do you have any unique powers?

"I can turn into an eagle- the symbol of my father. I mean, I can fly without it, but it makes it easier to control, and it's a little less draining. I can't carry heavy weight though, or fight in that form. I only like doing it when I have to travel far distances safely, alone."

[nepobabyeurydice]

Athena Cabin in The Dagger & The Joyless Eye

Annabeth Chase (Anna Elizabeth Wayne): 16 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. Head of the Cabin, uses her dagger, but she's one of the more versatile fighters of the camp.

Malcolm Pace: 16 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. Second in command, uses a shotgun, but has a short knife to use once he's out. He's from a rich family, and his dad died in a car accident, so his rich, New England grandparents basically kept him like a prized pet, so he's very survivalist when he has the chance to be because he wants to be self-sufficient.

Dorian Musiyenko: 18 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. Third in command, ranged javelin. From Ukraine, his father's abusive, and he's now permanently moved into the states. His distance from the normal godly center made him arrive to camp late, after the power structure we see now was established. He has excellent oratory skills, but has no confidence to use them.

Julieta Montego: 14 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. Her grandparents kicked her mother out when she showed up with Julieta, and she was essentially abandoned at Camp Half-Blood around the time Leyah Tuiaa arrived. Her biggest dream is to be a teacher, but is pessimistic that she'll survive long enough to do so.

Sophia Anagonye: 15 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. She was raised in ARGUS under Daemon Rose (Leo Lane)'s tutelage, and escaped during her third mission with Athena's help. Her other parent, for now, remains a mystery. She's an excellent spy and tracker, and prefers her short sword.

Nestor Akimichi: 14 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. His mother is an EMT, and they have a great relationship, he's passionate about art, and although he's practically made to pursue science, he thinks it's too easy and refuses to be sucked into the evil scientist game. He uses a spear, and is one of the two people who can put up with the Victor twins without dying. He uses a xipthos

Archimedes Morales: 13 as of 'The flail of lashing hail'. No chill, he's the beloved baby of the Athena Cabin, but he also blares reggaeton at three a.m. He lives in Argentina during the school months, and is often out of sync with the summer campers. He wants to a morally neutral evil scientist, much to Annabeth's despair. He prefers to use a dagger.

Dead but mentioned:

Oscar Reis Ferraz: The boy who washed up on Circe's Island. He's a guinea pig now.

Leyah Tuiaa: The Cabin head before Annabeth, she was an excellent leader, but she lacked the knowledge Annabeth would've gained while studying the Roman Pantheon for the quest of the seven and was killed by the cult.

[happyk44]

Thinking about Jason hearing that Percy ran away from home to hide from the Greek pantheon and no one can find him but rumor has it that he's being hidden away by some powerful entities that no one, not even the gods, can encroach on without it possibly breaking out another war.

He's so jealous. He wishes he could run away. He tries to live at Camp Half-Blood because it's a little quieter, calmer. Less strict and less needy when it comes to him because to the people at CHB Jason is just the super cool son of Zeus. Some of them know about his exploits but they weren't there when he executed them so in their minds he'll never size up against Percy and he's mostly left alone.

But Camper Jupiter and New Rome keeps dragging him away and he loves them, he does, he loves his friends, his former Cohort, the wolves, his home, but he is so tired and he just wants to disappear again. Except this time he doesn't want anyone to find him.

He'll even accept stolen memories again, if it means that he isn't found and dragged into quests and fights and teaching new trainees and whatever else they can wring out of him. He doesn't feel like a wet cloth being squeezed. He used to, especially after the first war, when there was no reprieve despite what he had done. He felt like they were trying to wrong every drop of water out of him. But it was fine because he could stick himself under he tap and get full again.

Now he feels like a chicken. Cut open, skinned, with grubby hands pulling his meat apart, and dragging any sharp thing his bones to make sure they're getting every little bit of their money's worth out of his meat.

He's not inanimate like a toy soldier, he's just dead and emptied out with no way to fix himself.

He sinks into the deep shadows one night and wonders if he should just kill himself. It's not honorable, so he's never done it in the past, even when the thought used to whoosh across his mind multiple times a day and keep him awake at night, but if he's already dead then what does it matter?

As he lays on the dark grass, he twirls a butter from sinner around in between his fingers. A knife, especially a butterknife, would be weak, but there are spears in the armory. He could raise up four of them - one at his heart, one at the top two on either side of his head. One quiet swing of his hands and they all come crashing in on him. Pierced through the heart, stabbed through the brain. How would he be fixed when the two parts that kept him alive were destroyed?

Maybe he'd add a fifth spear side by side to the one at his heart. Just to be safe.

He's still considering it when the ground swallows him whole. It's endlessly dark and cool. The emptiness relaxes him. He can barely think as he falls down, down, down. He can barely feel the fall. Sensation doesn't exist in this void.

It's so quiet.

Then he hits the ground. Soft asphodels cushion him. He exhales. The sky is black and impossible to see through. There are a few sparkling lights - but nothing like the stars he's so used to it. Deep in his gut, he knows they are not stars.

They're something else.

He sits up slowly. He should be more concerned, but all he can focus on is the idea of death. That he has been stolen away to die. If he has, then he will not have to kill himself in such a dishonourable way. He'll fight just enough to make himself seem desperate to survive, but in the end...

There's no one around him though. He stands and turns around. A barn stands a few hundred feet from him with roaming cows. There are a few chickens scattered nearby. Most of them are far off in the distance. Jason can't seem them that well, little specks to his vision, but his hearing has always been better. There are rivers here, not particularly close, but somewhere. The waters rush at different speeds. There's a large building, several smaller ones encased behind a wall.

He pauses.

The Underworld. He's sure of it. But why? He can't imagine why someone here would want to steal him away, much less kill him.

He doesn't get a step forward before Pluto appears before him. For less than a second, he's Greek - casual but neat black clothes and long black hair. Then his Roman stiffness kicks in. His hair cuts short, looking soft in the quiet air. His clothes, still black, are more streamlined against him, jewelry hung around his neck and wrists. Rings and earrings adorn him.

He looks so much more handsome than Jason had ever envisioned.

"Hazel has concerns," he says. And his voice is deep and darkly melodic.

Distantly he remembers Nico telling Frank that before Mors, Pluto used to call out of the dead if they were in a place he could not easily reach, and they would come like a sailor to a siren. Hazel had agreed. While she had never really interacted with her father in death, her resurrection was not as official as it should've been. So when he spoke, sometimes she heard that siren song.

Was it because Jason was so close to death that he could hear it now? He should be questioning why Pluto wanted to do away with him, how Hazel factored into it, why now, why here - but he could only feel tense desperation for the relief from the endless pounding in his heart and shattered nature of his skin.

"She has been practicing viewing living souls, and has noticed changes in your behaviour that made her seek yours out. She believes you are going to kill yourself." Pluto eyed Jason over. "She'll be disappointed to know she's correct."

Jason exhales. "Are you going to kill me?"

Pluto stares at him. Jason feels tiny. He's always been the tallest person in the room - at least until Frank shot up to 6'3" - but Pluto is much taller, and the dark void of his eyes has Jason feeling like a child about to be scolded for trying to touch the stove.

"No," Pluto says. "Why would you think that?"

He can't answer that question so he just looks away. Pluto clicks his tongue, unamused, then grabs Jason by his jaw. He has to bend to get in close to Jason's face, forcibly keeping his eyes on him. Jason draws up to his tiptoes with Pluto's hold.

Then he lets him go. Jason's heels hit the ground.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are autistic?"

Jason pauses, then slowly shakes his head. ADHD and dyslexia are the demigod gold standard. He knows that one of the kids from the second cohort had been diagnosed with both when he was very young, long before he even made his way to the Wolf House. But that's it.

Pluto rolls his eyes. "Of course not. They barely treat PTSD there, why would they bother to give a diagnosis that requires further accomodation?" His hand is cold against Jason's shoulder as he's suddenly marched forward. The vows give plaintive calls to Pluto as he passes by. He strokes the snouts of the ones closes to him. "You're burnout. You're traumatized. You need to breathe."

Jason doesn't have a chance to say a word to any of that before he's thrown in the back of a cart. It's hitched to a large bull that immediately begins walking very briskly. He barely gets himself upright before Pluto hops on effortlessly, and the bull takes off at full speed.

The cart itself is comfortable, even as Jason topples around while Pluto somehow manages to stay perfectly upright. He holds no reigns in his hands but the bull changes direction with every quick hand motion - left, right, forward, slightly left, slightly right.

They pull to a stop in front of a small cottage. Pluto hops off and helps Jason out.

"I'm sure Hazel will be fine to let you stay in her room."

Her room is a cottage? Jason wonders.

As though reading his mind, Pluto answers with a forceful push towards the door. "She did not like sharing the main castle as Nico does. Perfectly fine, many here choose to have their own homes outside the castle dwellings."

The door opens automatically and Jason is steered quickly inside. He stumbles over his own feet but Pluto simply keeps pushing him along, unbothered and keeping Jason upright the whole way. He doesn't get a chance to steal looks at the areas they pass by - a small kitchen and living room, he thinks - before he's pushed through an open door and onto a neatly made bed.

He rolls over, breathing hard. "Wait-"

"You'll stay here until you're better. Hazel asked how she could help you if you were going to kill yourself." Pluto gestures to the room. "Separation from stress should help. It's worked with many others in the past." He clicked his fingers and a shade appeared. She was small and young, a yellow transparency to her ghostly hue before her feet settled on the ground and she solidified in a real form. "This is Aster. She once struggled with what you are going through and has offered her assistance in keeping you safe from yourself."

"Wha-"

"Hello!" Aster chirped. She couldn't have been more than ten. "Happy to help."

She stuck her hand out. Baffled by the rapid swell of Informarion, Jason dazedly shoom it, still staring up at Pluto. "I-" He let go of Aftwr's hand. He doesn't know what to say, so the truth just falls out. "I just want to die."

Aster pouted, as Pluto shook his head. "No, you want things to stop. Dying is a distant thought for you, but appears to be the only option, hence your desire." He gestured around the room again. "You will have solitude, safety, and no responsibility. You will feel better with this kind of rest."

There are so many things at the tip Jason's tongue - denial, dismissals, desperate wheezing pleas to just kill him, just get over, just let it fucking end. But the breath in his throat chokes him.

Pluto watches him. The sternness on his face crumbles a violent feeling of inadequacy in Jason's heart. It spreads fast through his veins, sinking him with a fiery self-loathing. Thousands of heroes have crossed through the Underworld, honourable and pure.

Jason is a disgrace to all of them.

Aster grabs both hands and holds them tight. The bed shifts and he blinks. Pluto is next to him.

"My daughter and my son enjoy your company. It would hurt them if they were denied it because of your loss. I do not permit speaking with lost loved ones - it has caused far too much trouble in the past." Pluto reached out and ran his hand through Aster's hair as she pressed herself against Jason's knees. "You have gone through a great many things you should not have had to go through. You have done a great many things you should not have had to do. You deserve to rest, Jason."

He startles at the sound of his name in the god's voice. It's gentler than he has heard any god speak of him before. Like his name is a precious little bird, still cosied in the nest, instead of an eagle being ordered to strike its prey.

"Do you care for my daughter? Do you care for my son?"

Jason nodded, and gave a choked out, "Yes."

"Would you wish them rest if they were on the verge of shattering?"

"Of course," he breathed.

Pluto's eyes no longer felt like the void. Instead Jason could've sworn he was gazing into the dark night sky itself. "Then allow yourself the kindness you would have given them. You all have suffered. Your pain is no different than theirs."

Aster rose to her tiptoes. "Will he be seeing Pasi?"

"Later," Pluto said. "Pasithea will assist in your understanding of boundaries and grounding techniques. But it is clear people are not your strong suit right now." He tapped Jason in the middle of his chest. "So you will be allowed to adjust here in isolation until you are ready."

Distantly it sounded... Nice. Just staying in the cottage. Not having to do a thing. No one calling out to him for assistance. Maybe he could finally start designing the shrines for forgotten gods like he had planned years ago. Maybe he could finally sleep without his head screaming incoherent thoughts.

But, "It'll just come back."

He turned to stare just above Aster's head. Hazel had a full length mirror with vines wrapped around it propped up against the wall beside two darkly stained wooden doors. His face looked different. It always looked different.

He really couldn't remember a day where his reflection looked like him and not a stranger.

"It always comes back."

Pluto shrugged. "Then you'll stay." Jason stopped, his reflection blurring at out of his head while Pluto's words echoed in his head. "Several mortals have made the Underworld their home. Typically they are partners of someone here, or our children, but a few have stayed because it is calmer, safer, quieter on their senses and their mind. Naturally you'll do some work to earn your stay, but feeding chickens and filing papers has always been well received compared to the alternative of staying above."

Jason swallowed dry. Aster squeezed his hands and smiled up at him. "I was supposed to stay here." She shrugged. "My brain is different so it was hard. But then I got sick." She smiled up at Pluto. "I think it's still very nice here either way."

Pluto patted her head. "Who am I do deny a home to those who hear the call? The Underworld is unheard by the living. So if there are living who are drawn to stay here, surely they must be allowed."

Her smile turned to a bright beam. Jason swallowed dry again.

"I-"

"You have no choice," Pluto said firmly as he stood up. "Hazel would like you safe to yourself and healthy, Nico would like you safe to yourself and healthy. So you will stay until you are safe to yourself and healthy." He leaned down and flicked Jason's forward. "There will be no complaints, pup."

It takes Jason a few minutes to stop grappling with his thoughts around Pluto's words. But finally he croaks out a dry, "Do I have to eat a pomegranate?"

Aster laughs, stifling the noise against Jason's knees. Pluto's smile is warm, kind. It cuts through the emptiness in Jason's chest. The hollowness isn't filled through, but just enough to give him a glimpse of hope.

His hand is cool against Jason's cheek. "Only if you wish it," he says with a little pat and for the slightest second, Jason feels everything in his head quiet down.

Pluto takes his leave without another word or touch. Aster pats his knees and slips out the door after him. She'll just be right outside, she says as she closes the door behind her. Jason relaxes into the soft sheets. Hazel's ceiling is bare of any decoration, matte obsidian stone.

Jason stares and stares until the darkness of the ceiling begins to melt around him like a void. The void was nice. Calm, quiet nothingness. He closes his eyes and remembers the fall down through the shadows. He wonders if Pluto will let him experience that again. His breathing is steady under his hand. The distant crawl of his own skin melts away into the sheets. It's still there but fainter, more vague.

For the first time he can remember in the whole of his life, sleep hits him in minutes.

For the first time he can remember in the whole of his, it's nothing but good dreams.

[thesummerstorms]

so as I try to make a "world state" if you will for my PJO stuff, more and more characters keep appearing. (98% of them are solidly in NPC/Crowd Scene/Lore Entry status, but still.)

So far there's:

Living:

Della Bowers- Daughter of Apollo. Stereotypically, she's an archer and a musician. She's very angry. Her entire existence was inspired by the tone of Scylla's voice at the end of "Scyllla" from Epic the musical. Oldest surviving child of Apollo from either Camp, but was "graduated" (aged out/forced out) shortly after TLO and therefore wasn't around to help her siblings for Gaea. No healing ability whatsoever, but she accidentally curses someone with plagues when she gets angry and sings hymns to her father at some point. In Annabeth Wayne verses, she may or may not be opening for Black Canary.

Cameron "Cam" Wells- Daughter of Athena. Oldest surviving child of Athena still at Camp, but she regularly pretends to be Annabeth and Malcolm's "younger" sibling. Daughter of a medical researcher who used her father's old textbooks to teach herself how to help with basic first aid in the infirmary. She doesn't actually want to pursue medicine though; that's a necessity not a choice. She's Athena cabin's unofficial reference librarian, and forms something of a trio with Annabeth and Malcolm. Currently enrolled part time in community college to prolong her ability to stay at Camp.

Gianna Benenati- Daughter of Athena. 14. Youngest Athena kid to survive Gaea and Kronos. Wants to be a textile engineer. Used to be best friends with her similarly aged sister Isra, who was killed in battle.

Hector Mendoza Parra- Son of Athena. Newest and youngest member of Cabin 6. Arrived after Gaea. Very skeptical of the whole thing. The Campers low key think his name is bad luck because Hektor was a Trojan and also look at what Achilles did to him.

Reed- Most NPC of NPCs. Son of Demeter from somewhere in the Southern USA who is good at herbal remedies and will help the Apollo kids out with handling minor illnesses and pains in exchange for them putting out a little bit of sunshine for his herb garden in the winter. Dresses in camo a lot.

Louisa Cordero & Erik Patel- Former Athena Head Counselor and her second from when Annabeth was a small child. Graduated together when Annabeth was nine or ten, but as far as she knows they're probably still both alive. (If they aren't, she'd rather live in ignorance.)

Dead:

Agatha Nguyen- Daughter of Athena. Former Head Counselor before Annabeth. Used to fight with Luke, so she and Annabeth weren't as close as they could be, but she did train Annabeth's knife skills. "Graduated" at the end of The Lightning Thief, but was killed off-screen by monsters at least by The Titan's Curse while protecting a Satyr on a mission to find a new demigod.

Ianthe & Galen Hargrove- Twin children of Athena. Around Annabeth's age. Their first summer was during Sea of Monsters, and Tantalus's presence drove them to defect with an older daughter of Morpheus to the Titan Army. Annabeth barely knew either of them. Ianthe was killed in the Battle of Manhattan. Galen is probably dead, but no one's sure.

Emmanuel Belanger- Son of Athena who left Camp and refused to fight for either side during the Titan war. Tried to hide in the mortal world, but was killed by monsters when Gaea began to rise. Thought Annabeth was Luke's spy and never learned otherwise.

Isra El-Amin- Daughter of Athena. Was the same age as Gianna. Was the cabin "Weapon specialist". Haven't decided which battle she died in. I do flip flop back and forth between her and Gianna as to who survives/dies; right now Gianna is surviving only so she and Chiara can embarrass Nico with their modern Italian slang that no one else understands.

Emily (surname?)- Daughter of Athena. Was technically "co-counselor" with Annabeth during SOM due to Annabeth's age, but was too depressed to care or intervene at that point. Died off screen between SOM and TTC.

Jessie Holt- Unclaimed. Annabeth used to wonder if Jessie was an Athena kid, and Jessie helped weave burial shrouds after the Battle of the Labyrinth. However, they weren't close. Killed in the Battle of Manhattan.

Lydia- Daughter of Apollo. Had only minor healing abilities, but was targeted and ambushed by TA demigods due to being a medic during the Battle of Manhattan. Her real love was poetry, and Cam, her best friend, is working on compiling her poems into a manuscript for the camp library.

??? Name Undecided- Son of Aphrodite. Lydia's friend and Cam's frenemy, and as a result was sometimes voluntold into using his emotion-sensing abilities to help deal with distressed patients or their more distressed siblings/friends. Also wrote poetry, but Cam thought it was pretentious and now doesn't have the drafts to preserve. Mother writes semi-famous love poems. Killed in the Battle of Manhattan.

[eretzyisrael]

by Jack Engelhard

So this time it’s not 1,000 for one. Well, that’s an improvement. This time it’s 150 Arab terrorists in exchange for 50 Israeli hostages.

To some, that’s considered a win. Hey, look, we didn’t cave completely, only partly.

Did you get back all the hostages in this deal? That would have been something. But you didn’t. Abraham was also a lousy bargainer. Maybe that’s where this starts.

Frankly, I had intended to write something upbeat, especially when my IDF brothers in arms are fighting like lions inside the belly of the beast. (My guys were the Navy.)

But like you, dear reader, I am so damn depressed. Literally, where’s the light at the end of the tunnel?

I hardly hear any talk of victory any more. Mostly, the talk I’m hearing is about those “innocent Gaza civilians” and how Israel’s NUMBER ONE priority is to keep them safe.(Not Netanyahu and the government, thank G-d - they promise to go on to the end of Hamas and called its leaders "dead men walking" just last night.)

That’s the ballgame?

Secretary of State Antony Blinken thinks hardly about anything else, which is why he keeps traveling to Israel…to press the point.

There he is again this week…also to put the squeeze on Israel for “the day after,” which is a column for later.

He’s getting ready…with Biden, and the State Department…to swamp Israel ought of existence through another two-state solution, only this time with MORE land for the Arabs.

You heard that right. More land and THIS TIME they will be happy campers. Blinken is betting on this, with Israel’s money.

Which Israeli government will push back and resist? Or will it always be back to square one?

I am not confident. History tells us that leftist elements in Israel are always ready to concede for the “sake of peace in our time.” Per Neville Chamberlain.

Will it constantly be the same merry-go-round?

Nor can I forget the peaceniks who gave us Oslo, and the man, Ariel Sharon, who brought us to this pass when he gave this good Jewish land over to the Arabs. Hence, Hamas.

In earlier columns we proved that there are no innocent Gazans. They are all the same. One part does the killing, the other part does the cheering.

Dear Israel…how often will you let them play you like a fiddle? The enemy seems always a step ahead of you. Certainly the case Oct 7. Thereafter, as well.

We’re supposed to be so smart. They never produced an Einstein, and we have won 214 Nobel Prizes to their ZERO…all for what, when it comes to our survival.

Yet so often they outsmart us. We’re told that the 150 terrorists being released are really good terrorists. Quite harmless. Yet among them, we are learning, there exists car rammers, knife stabbers, suicide bombers, and outright murderers. BUT…they have been koshered by the government because they are only 99.9 percent like Hamas, not 100 percent. They did not succeed in their plans to murder Jews.

So, as of this writing, the deal is on…that is, for this group of 50…200 more to go.

Why art thou downcast O my soul? (David)

Because I know what’s coming. Hamas is going to drag this along for two years…one gift at a time…five, 10, maybe 20 hostages incrementally.

I so terribly hope I am wrong.

They can play this game down to one hostage left to taunt us with a Shalit all over again.

Meantime, the IDF will be stymied, the leadership, stalemated.

Let it not be so.

Hamas has this all figured out. Do the Israelis? How is it that Hamas gets to call the shots? Yes, Israel should have insisted on the release of all the hostages at once.

Or else, fire and brimstone of Biblical proportions. It’s what Churchill would have done…and did. Victory at all costs.

After all that, there is this: my niece Miriam, whose children live in Beer-Sheva…anyway, Miriam sends me the talks given by the Rebbe.

I listen to them every day…and they do uplift, give strength, and optimism. There shall be no despair. Israel…the Jewish People…will prevail.

Heck, I’m trying to be upbeat. Work with me.

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

My Gripes with the Midseason Special

Yep, another post that I put down my less-than-favorable feelings about Helluva Boss. This time, it'll be about the currently latest episode, the Midseason Special. As always, any fans who love it as is should stay away from this post

So I had my gripes for a while and I finally got around to writing it down. The bummer about this is, it's actually something I would have loved seeing but I got bogged down by the spectacularly bad writing that is Helluva Boss by then. A heavy focus on Asmodeus and Fizzarolli, especially together, and minimal showcasing of Blitzo. (I don't think I'm alone in thinking that he really should have just stayed in the flashback but at least he didn't get shoved in too much outside of it)

Although Blitzo's actual screentime outside the flashback did get to me. First off, him taking his sweet fucking time shooting the entitled, creepy asshole. Seriously, he was there for freaking security; yeah, Ozzie intended Blitzo to talk Fizz out of continuing to work for Mammon but he was supposed to be security, especially as far as Fizz knew.

Yet Blitzo never shot the bastard when he started trash talking Fizz. He never shot the bastard when Fizz was very clearly having a panic attack as the rant went on. Blitzo never even shot the bastard when he gave a damn warning that he would. No, he just flat out punches the creep instead. That feels so lame! And of course, Blitzo let that creep kick the door down to Fizz's dressing room with a knife in his hands. Why would Blitzo let it get that far?

What makes all that even worse is that Blitzo was able to shot a dirty humper off Fizz while they were swooshing around in the air so you know for a fact that Blitzo was more than capable of shooting the creep before he even laid a hand or foot on the damn door. It was like the writers just wanted Blitzo to see Fizz and Ozzie be all lovey-freaking-dovey with each other and do the hypocrites joke on them

Honestly, the fact that Blitzo was so incompetent about shooting this one asshole made me feel pissed off to see Blitzo being caring for Fizz. Seriously, he had the freaking gall to ask if Fizz is okay when he let the creep trash-talk Fizz for as long as he did

That's my biggest gripe with Blitzo in the episode but I did get annoyed at him for that dirty joke at the end because why wouldn't a Helluva Boss episode end with some dirty joke if not melodramatic moment or someone being an unfunny jerkass for the sake of an ending joke? (Seriously, I started building up a decent opinion on Blitzo in Exes and Oohs, only for Blitzo to thoroughly tear it down to smithereens with that last line of his in Unhappy Campers. I seriously hate that I'm stuck with that asshole as the main character as I weather it out for my actual favorites)

My other biggest gripe is, unfortunately, Fizzarolli. Because the thing is, as much as I hated that Blitzo was forgiven by Fizz and that flashback so weakly establishing what beef they had for each other, I did enjoy Fizz's characterization in that episode. I loved that Fizz was a non-combative who needed to be protected from physical danger but he didn't let that stop him from being so damn mouthy and sassy. Seriously, Fizz was duct taped by the fucking Mafia and was threatened by Striker and Fizz still had the guts to call Striker 'fuck face' and heavily imply that his breath was bad. Even then, when he got on the field - so to speak - Fizz still did whatever he could to protect himself. He tried that horn thing he used on Ozzie in the morning, he tried using a banana peel, he ran with as much gusto as possible, and he readily provided a distraction for Blitzo to do his thing. Fizz was amazing! Even though he didn't know how to fight, even though he wasn't good at fighting, Fizz didn't let that stop him from fighting back however he could or from surviving and I loved that.

Then the Midseason Special happens and Fizz is so bizarrely sensitive all of a sudden. He was so non-combative and sensitive that it kept me thinking back to the last episode and wonder 'why is this different for Fizz? Why can he mouth off the fucking mafia but not a random asshole who clearly doesn't have a life?' My feisty jester who didn't let being physical weak stop him from fighting however he could is gone! Seriously, how am I supposed to enjoy a characterization that Stolas has already owned since the beginning of fucking season 2!?

I don't mean any disrespect for people who gone through what Fizz did in the Midseason Special, just so you know. What I have a problem with is that it's specifically Fizz who's the way that he is in this episode. I can get Fizz not being able to do a thing about Mammon, deadly sin and all, but why is he letting this random asshole get to him this much this easily? And Glitz and Glam, for that matter. Why is Fizz just letting him be bitches off stage? Season one Fizz or even just the Fizz from the very last episode wouldn't let it slide, regardless of preparations to beat them in the competition

The last gripe I could have is that Fizz and Ozzie are too soft for my taste now. It's like Millie and Moxxie if both sides were male and they actually get a conflict with some meat to it in an episode they star in, even if the conflict's definitely going to be resolved by the end. Anyways, I was okay with how their relationship was like in Oops but then the Midseason Special happens and now it's too sweet that it legit feels like cringe to me. It actually makes me miss the season 1 portrayals, where Fizz and Ozzie seemed like a villainous couple who not only enjoyed each other's company but also enjoyed being villainous together. They were an awful couple who was more awful to everyone around them but completely loving or at least caring towards each other. That was great! I would have wanted to see that! I'd still want to see the Fizzmodeus show over the Stolitz one but they're still way too sugary sweet

[softquietsteadylove]

What about a summer camp story?

Gil is the new head of the cafeteria. He's cooking for the children and camp supervisors. One time he asks one of the supervisors, Sersi, why this beautiful, statue like woman never eats. Sersi tells him her name and that she never eats in the cafeteria because the food was awful before Gil came. One Day when Gil meets Thena personally for the first time, he can convince her to try his food in the cafeteria.

✨🖤Hugs and Love🖤✨

"There's nothing in there but flour and cornmeal."

The statuesque woman startled, rushing to pull her head out of the pantry like a camper trying to sneak a snack back to their bunk.

Gil chuckled, "everything that's already made is either in the fridges or in the cabinets over the flat top."

She nodded silently, no apologies to be made over being caught red handed, "well, I'll-"

"You can have whatever you want," Gil rushed before she could make her escape. "Anything you like--just tell me."

She cleared her throat, maintaining what dignity she could after being found out. "I was looking for any tortilla chips leftover from chili night."

"Right," Gil nodded, looking down at the late night prep he was getting done. He set down his knife, "because you don't eat the cafeteria food."

He had noticed, of course. It would be hard not to notice the one face who never, ever entered the lunch line. Even the busiest counsellors like Dane and Sersi still had to sit down for dinner at some point. But the elusive activities director always walked around with a power bar or a protein shake in hand, it seemed.

Sersi had told him that the food was particularly horrid before he came to be the camp cook. Many of them had their reservations, and Thena wasn't one for dining communally anyway! He shouldn't take it personally, was her point.

But he was more than curious about the reclusive creature who took the kids on hikes and helped them with archery and volleyball and soccer.

She gave him a more standoffish look, still keeping her hands clasped behind her in her camp t-shirt and white denim shorts. He had never seen her in anything else, even early when the counsellors might grab breakfast in their pajamas before the rambunctious pre-teens rose for the day.

"I hope you won't take offense."

Gil swiped his hands on the towel tossed over his shoulder and faced her more fully. "You say that, but I'm pretty sure you won't even try a bite of anyone else's food."

She shrugged, "I'm not a food sharer."

Gil nodded, "right. That scared of it?"

Her shoulders rose faintly, like a cat arching its back for a fight. "You didn't have to sample the food of your predecessor. You would swear off the stuff as well, I think."

He snorted, "that bad?"

Thena gave him the driest look he had seen from her yet, and that was really saying something. "I brought enough power bars to sustain me for months."

Gil rolled his eyes, although he had to admit, she had one hell of a resolve. "You would rather survive on dry, crumbly protein bars than even try my food?"

"They are not dry."

"Crumbly though," he countered, and she accepted the rebuttal. He walked closer, "there must be something you'd be willing to try. Doesn't have to be anything the truck drops off, although I'll have you know that I don't make shit that comes frozen in a plastic bag."

Thena eyed him in return, still cautious but obviously too intrigued - or hungry - to avoid it. "You don't?"

Gil huffed, snapping his towel off his shoulder and tossing it onto the counter, "not on my life! I refused to take the job unless they changed their supplier and I was allowed to use real food. That shit's not good for kids anyway."

That seemed to sway the obstinate woman slightly, who at least drifted closer to the end of his prep counter. "Well, what do you make, then?"

"Do you not even pay attention to what's on the board?" Gil sighed, although he could guess the answer already. He crossed his arms, "of course not."

"I have other things to do," Thena crossed her arms as well, "I don't just have one age group to manage. It is, in fact, all the little devils who do the activities."

Gil smirked; she called them 'little devils' but here she was, same as the rest of them, spending three whole months at some camp in the woods so the kids could have some outdoor enrichment and three meals and a bed while school was out.

"So?" she prompted, her eyes flicking down to the green onion he was chopping. "What is that for?"

"Well, these are for something else," he shook his head at her prickly demands. "You can freeze them while they're fresh so they stay firm as a garnish for some crunch. But I can make you some eggs if you want."

"Eggs?"

"Eggs," he nodded, "y'know, usually a chicken lays 'em but you can get other-"

"I understand the concept!" she bit at him, although maybe it wasn't as scary if you weren't under the age of 13. "I'm asking if they're real!"

"Real eggs," he vowed, moving to the fridge as if she were holding a weapon for him to produce the evidence. He pulled out two from the wholesale flat he had in the fridge. "See?"

She pursed her lips at his demeaning demonstration.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. At least she was fun, this Goddess of War he had heard so much about. "You want something to eat or not?"

He wasn't sure, but he would bet that her stomach was winning the argument against her head.

She relaxed her stance slightly, fingers tapping against the end of the counter. "Could...scrambled, please?"

He knew there had to be a human under that shell. And she was hungry, "yes, ma'am."

Now she was the one to roll her eyes.

Gil turned the burner on, though, tossing a little nob of butter into the pan.

"The food truly was horrid, last year," Thena began her confession as he waited for his pan to reach an appropriate heat. She looked down at her hands. "It disagreed with me on several occasions."

That was what made her so much more resistant than the others. Gil smiled, "and here I thought you were being shy."

She scowled, "I'm-"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he waved it off, cracking his eggs and scrambling in the pan with chopsticks, "sorry. The last way I would describe you is shy."

Thena relaxed somewhat, and he discovered that it was possible for those sharp little shoulders to slouch. "I know I'm the only one who feels so strongly about it."

"I think that mass produced, bagged and canned shit would turn anyone's stomach," Gil offered more gently, keeping his eggs moving on the heat--her eggs. He smiled, "I don't blame you."

Thena drifted a little closer still. "I'm sorry, Gilgamesh, for being so unfair as to not even try anything you've made."

He shrugged, only looking at her briefly while working on her eggs, "hey, it's okay."

She paused, maybe not having expected her forgiveness to come so quickly.

"Also," he chuckled, pulling her very soft scramble out and spiralling the sheet of eggs onto a plate. He added a few of his green onions, just for the sake of it, "it's just Gil."

She pursed her lips at him again, but accepted the plate of eggs, swirled into a peaked cyclone. She gave him a slightly less unamused look, "showing off?"

He gave her his most charming grin, "gotta impress first time clients."

Thena rolled her eyes at him, cutting off the smallest piece possible with her fork.

"Oh, come on!"

She glared at him for interrupting her snacking, but took the small bite for what it was. Her eyebrows raised, and he noticed their darker colour in comparison to her almost white-blonde hair. "Hm...not bad."

Gil kept his eyes on her as he reached forward with his chopsticks. She didn't stop him--even moved the plate back closer to him. He took a bite for himself, "not bad--they're good!"

Rather than argue with him again, the statue of a woman took another bite, with another smile, "fine, they're good. Happy?"

Gil smiled as well, watching as Thena took larger and larger bites, probably starving for decent nutrients after all her smoothies and power bars. At least he knew what to make for tomorrow morning's breakfast. "I'm getting there."

[survivalprostore]

Essential Survival Gear for Every Outdoor Enthusiast: A Humorous Guide

Hey there, fellow adventurers! If you're reading this, you're either gearing up for your next epic outdoor escapade or you're just lost on the internet and thought this might be about surviving your next family reunion. Either way, welcome! Today, we're diving into the must-have survival gear that every camper, hiker, and outdoor enthusiast needs. And we’re going to have a laugh along the way. Because let’s face it, surviving in the wild is tough, but it doesn’t have to be boring!

First up, the multi-tool. This little gadget is the Swiss Army Knife's cooler, more versatile cousin. Need to open a can? Multi-tool. Got a splinter? Multi-tool. Trying to impress your friends by pretending you know how to fix that thingy on your backpack? You guessed it—multi-tool. The 14-in-1 Outdoor Emergency Survival Gear Kit from our store is the ultimate multitasker. It's got everything from a knife to a bottle opener. Yes, because sometimes survival means cracking open a cold one after a long hike.Pro Tip: Make sure you practice opening it before you hit the trail. Nothing ruins a heroic moment like struggling with your tools while your friends are watching.

The Trusty Fire Starter

Fire is essential for survival. It keeps you warm, cooks your food, and scares away the creepy crawlies that want to join your camping party. Matches? They get wet. Lighters? They run out of fuel. But a magnesium fire starter? Now we're talking. It’s like having a tiny piece of Thor's hammer in your pocket.Check out our awesome fire starter kits. They’re foolproof, which is great because the last thing you want is to be that person who can't start a fire in front of your entire camping group. "Hey, remember when Dave couldn't start a fire, and we almost froze? Good times.

"Pro Tip: Practice at home first. Your neighbors might think you’re preparing for an apocalypse, but better safe than sorry.

The Unassuming Paracord Bracelet

You might think a paracord bracelet is just a fashionable accessory for your rugged outdoor look. Wrong! This little piece of fashion can save your life. Need to tie up your gear, make a shelter, or floss after eating that jerky? Paracord bracelet to the rescue! It’s like wearing Batman’s utility belt on your wrist.Our store offers paracord bracelets that even come with a built-in fire starter and whistle. Now you can call for help and start a fire without even reaching into your pack. Talk about multi-functional!

Pro Tip: Resist the urge to use it as a regular rope for mundane tasks. Save it for when you really need it. Like when you’re about to fall into a ravine. Or need to make an emergency clothesline.

The Legendary First Aid Kit

Getting a blister is not a rite of passage; it's just plain annoying. A first aid kit is the real MVP of any outdoor adventure. Cuts, scrapes, blisters, mysterious rashes—you name it, your first aid kit can handle it. Our kits are compact, comprehensive, and fit perfectly in your backpack without taking up too much space.And let’s be honest, nothing says "I’m prepared" like busting out a first aid kit when your buddy gets a paper cut from the map (yes, people still use maps).

Pro Tip: Don’t just carry it—know how to use it. Otherwise, it’s just extra weight. Maybe take a first aid class. You might even meet someone who shares your love for survival gear!

The All-Knowing Compass

GPS devices are great until they run out of battery or lose signal. A compass, however, is like the wise old owl of navigation tools. It doesn’t need batteries, it doesn’t glitch, and it won’t judge you for not knowing north from south.Our store has top-notch compasses that are easy to read and reliable. Perfect for when you’ve wandered off the beaten path and are starting to worry about becoming the next headline: "Lost Hiker Found Using Only a Selfie Stick and a Sense of Desperation.

"Pro Tip: Learn to use it properly. Or at least pretend you do while sneakily using your GPS as backup.

Wrapping It Up!

So there you have it, folks. The essential survival gear that every outdoor enthusiast needs. Remember, it’s not just about having the right tools; it’s about knowing how to use them and keeping a sense of humor when things go sideways. Because in the end, the best survival skill is the ability to laugh in the face of adversity (and your friends’ attempts at starting a campfire). Check out Survival Pro Store for all your gear needs, and may your adventures be epic and your blisters be few!

Happy Trails!

[altheneum-library]

Hey! The person who requested the Courtney one here! Thanks for answering my request. I thought about another one,a kinda of unhinged and silly reader. You can decide the characters :D

Also,can i be 🍁 anon? That's all,bye!

you've given me the power to do what I want now you will suffer it's consequences

a drink for my absence? sorry for the wait! it was hard getting my motivation back for a moment lol xP

contains; various/reader (can be seen as any relationship), somewhat heavy angst, comfort, fluff, crack taken a bit seriously

.

.

When you arrived on the island and it turns out almost everyone is dying, you made a vow to stay optimistic and be as wild as possible. the others were skeptical of you at first cause you were acting like an Izzy 2.0 but somewhat more unhinged than her, even she got sketchy of you. though when you proved that you weren't the killer and admitted that you're just like this normally then it's more understandable and there we're still times you made everyone laugh despite how dire the situation can be

times where you joked about Chris being a wuss, so you would shout "DOWN WITH THE KING!!" at the bonfire area with the others and they would cheer on and shout with you. it was like you made them forget a killer was even there!

you were known to be the sunshine character who is basically hyperactive, feral, and on crack, and who also has the love for arson and is the only person with a lighter

-

WHEN YOU LIVE:

so when Chris came back and had to ask you for help, you made a deal with him that the campers stay on the boat. along with his helpers. you led him to the spirits, under the guise of being their 'helper' too, though deep inside you we're pissed at him and when you saw they became vengeful spirits out to get him you used your unhinged appearance and personality to be very cunning.

you had cried when Owen and Noah died, you liked them, they balanced you out basically. You we're so pissed that the others can't find DJ yet, and with how angry you were with Duncan already you went out on your own to find him, your wrath was what made the killer avoid you. who knows what you'll do with a goddamn lighter and knife begrudgingly given to you by Duncan!?

when Chris died to the spirits taking him, you escaped with the other survivors.

right now, you made sure to keep contact with everyone, just to make sure they don't do anything stupid. you've not changed at all, except for maybe a few scratches and scars here and there.

-

WHEN YOU DIE:

you died the day before Chris came, you we're protecting Cody from the killer and distracted them by hitting their head with a rock hard. you ran and ran, until you're on top of the very same cliff your blonde friend fell from.

you weren't going down without a fight, and you fought against the killer for a good while but it seems there was no winning. so you wanted to make sure the killer came down with you, you lit your lighter and burnt them as you both fell from the cliff and landed into the ground.

Cody mourned for you that day when everyone found your body, the killer's was no where to be seen but judging by the blood they're long gone by now. everybody was deeply upset for you, even Eva and Duncan, you practically kept a strong attitude and a brave face the whole while. Heck, even the spirits of those who were killed we're deeply upset you didn't survive, they were highly hoping you would but you kept up a fight and killed the killer so that was enough for them.

when Chris came, your spirit didn't show your scars like the others so he was tricked by you into their trap.

you were happy the others managed to escape and survive, hoping they wouldn't come here anymore.

[callsign-joyride]

Don't Fear The Reaper | Daisy Jones & The Six

Camp Solstice, 1948. Dozens of counselors and campers are slain or missing. The killer would never be caught. The children who survived would never let their families return to the camp. The killer had been presumed dead for years. Until 1978.

This is a Daisy Jones & The Six slasher AU. There will be dark themes such as gore, stabbing/violence with a knife, and death. If any of these bother you, do not read further or read at your own risk. Playlist Series Masterlist Taglist Support my ko-fi

As always, my blog is not meant for minors. If you interact with my page and you have a blank or ageless blog, I will block you.

This will be cross-posted on my Wattpad blog, pedro-is-pascal.

Prologue & chapter one coming this Friday (7/21).

Tagging those who might be interested:

@kmc1989 @idontcare-11