#that they camped outside the cave for a year and when the war was over reported it's existence to the gov

[stahl-herz]

Art Favorite Tag Game

I got tagged by @indecisivepsyche. So I'm going to try to stick to paintings with this.

Rules: Post 4 pieces of art you like and make a poll so that people can vote for their favourite, then tag 4 friends to do the same.

Tagging @a-rainbow-girl-detective , @pocket-of-sky , @thefreakoutsideyourwindow , and @introverted-cupcake-x . I'd be interested to see what some of your favorite art pieces are!

[cranberryjuice-posts]

So don’t freak out

Synopsis - Clarisse is Bad at keeping secrets

Pairings - college! Clarisse x mortal fem! Reader

IMPORTANT - this FIC takes Place after PJO and HOO and is during TOA, so spoilers are ahead, this is basically cannon clarisse outside of camp

It had been a year since clarisse left camp. After the war against the Roman’s and Gaea she was just ready to finally attend college and be a ‘normal’ girl.

So far everything was going great. In an advance intro to Greek mythology and culture course mainly she took since she needed a fine arts credit she met you. You were just some mortal girl, at first she didn’t really notice you but after being assigned on a project together she quickly realized how much she liked you.

Even after you introduced clarisse to your friend group and invited her out to eat she just couldn’t get you out of her mind. She would pray to her father and Aphrodite in hopes for advice little did she know Aphrodite was playing match maker against ares better judgement.

After a few months clarisse caved and asked you out.. Even after a few dates she was still to nervous to ask the question so you did, that’s how you two started to date.

Your relationship was perfect. You loved spending time with clarisse and her mother, you also love playing with her hair and watching her when she would dominate the court no matter what sport it was in the gym.

——

You were sitting by clarisse in her dorm room as you did an assignment. “Uh huh, you know you really enjoy the story of achilles and Patroclus”

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “Shut up”

“I’m serious!” You joked “I don’t know it’s just the way you talk about him and write his story it’s like you are him, or maybe you lost your Patroclus so you relate” you smiled at first but soon straightened your position when she grew quiet. “Did I..”

“No.. no” clarisse sighed and set her pen down before rubbing her eyes.. she let out a sigh and looked over at you gently grabbing your hand. “About two years ago.. there was this big event in my life. I had a best friend named silena.. she was my everything and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love her.. silena had recently lost her boyfriend and when she had died in the accident which was my fault, it hurt.. a lot. I did everything I could to save her and I even got vengeance for her, so In a way yeah I lost my Patroclus but that’s ok.. I have you now” she leaned over and kissed your cheek wanting to cheer you up some.

You rubbed her hand softly.. you had so many questions but decided against it not wanting to press the issues.

——

It was Saturday. Clarisse was messing around with you as you two were walking back towards the college campus while laughing together after going on a date. You let go of her hand and walked ahead before stopping so you could take some pictures of her..

Once clarisse caught up and took your phone out of your hand she leaned down and kissed you. “You know your dumb right” you rolled your eyes. “Yeah I’m aware”

There was a loud bang from an alley way.. while you thought nothing of it You noticed clarisse tensing up. “Babe-“

She grabbed you and forced you behind her. “Don’t move” she instructed. You were confused, what you saw was a stray dog eating some trash but clarisse was acting like she saw a monster. “Y/n” she whispered and grabbed your waist. “We’re gonna run”

“Lise what’s going on”

“I’ll explain later but we need to RUN!” She yelled and grabbed your hand running down the street with the barking dog now chasing you.. you had never seen clarisse act like this..

Turn after turn after turn. All you knew was that clarisse continued to run with you in her hand, you looked back and for a moment the dog chasing you… it wasn’t a dog it looked bigger meaner.. hellish even. You didn’t understand and you didn’t want to.

Eventually clarisse threw you into a random gas station and slammed against a shelf panting.. the dog sat patiently outside not moving but eerily watched as you and clarisse caught your breath. Clarisse dragged you to the bathroom and locked the door. “Look—“

“Clarisse what the fuck is going on!” You yelled, your dress now messed up along side your now frizzy hair and sweaty face. “It’s a dog!”

She held her head down before looking at you with concern. “It’s.. a dog” You spoke however this time less assure in yourself.

Clarisse shook her head and opened the bathroom door.. she walked out for a moment before coming back and nodding her head in a different direction. “Common this way” she softly took your hand, you squinted your eyes thinking you were seeing things.. it was almost like clarisse had a spear? In her Hand more specifically an Ancient Greek style spear. You shook your head and the spear disappeared leaving only clarisses keys in her hand.

You left out the back way and took a longer way back to campus.. neither of you spoke until you got to clarisses dorm.

You sat down on her bed and watched as she hung her keys on the wall.. there it was again the spear but it left as soon as you saw it.

“Claire”

“Hm” she flatly spoke and opened her computer.

“That wasn’t a dog was it..” you spoke quietly. She sent an email before sighing and walking infront of you taking your hands. “No.. no it wasn’t”

“Can I Tell You something Crazy” You mumbled, clarisse nodded while squeezing your hands. “The dog…. It almost looked like a hellhound like from Mr. Anthony’s talk on Greek monsters, I know I sound crazy.. but it only lasted for a second”

“That’s” she gave a dramatic sigh. “That’s because it was a hellhound” You looked up confused. “Y/n.. there’s something you need to know”

This was to much. You didn’t like any of this clarisses tone the apparent hell hound chasing you NOW the spear on the wall clear as day not disappearing. You faced clarisse again and nodded. “All those myths you know and love.. their real and I am a daughter of ares”

At first there was silence until you started to laugh. Clarisse looked back at you offended all while you just laughed. “You’ve gotta be joking!” Clarisse was starting to grow irritated, you calmed down.. noticed clarisses face you Just scoff. “Right because Zeus and hades and fucking ares all exist? Clarisse baby I love you but if your seeing things we can get you help I mean me seeing a hellhound of everything was probably just a result of the alcohol I had earlier and some adrenaline”

Clarisse tapped her foot before letting go and going to her night stand. You watched as she rummaged through until she pulled out a golden coin. “What are You Gonna do with that” You asked with a smile.

“Prove to you I’m not lying” she sighed and grabbed a crystal her roommate had, she propped it up on a table and flashed her phones flashlight through it to make a prism and stepped back. “Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering."

She tossed the coin into the cystals light and it dissolved..your smile dropped and was replaced by confusion. “Camp halfblood Dionysius”

The prism shimmered and soon showed a reflection of a middle aged man sitting at a table with a centaur beside him.

Chiron looked up and smiled. “Ah clarisse daughter of ares, what can I do for you”

Mr.D looked over and rolled his eyes. “Clementine always a pleasure” his tone clearly sarcastic

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “You mean clarisse”

“Same thing”

You had a look of horror on your face as you watched the scene before you. “Claire.. did you say Chiron as in the centaur guy” The two men exchanged looks wondering what the call was really about.

She nodded and held her hand out now showing Chiron and Mr. D You.. there was some silence until Mr.D complained.

—

She ended the Iris message and turned to face you. “You believe me Now” You nodded slowly, she chuckled and walked over grabbing your cheeks and kissing your forehead.

“I.. have a shit ton to explain” she sighed but smiled as you hugged her in response. Clarisse was worried, you were a mortal now stepping into her world but one thing clarisse knew was that you weren’t gonna get hurt she would make sure of that.

Clarisse - and uh that was the battle of manhatten

Y/n - YOU KILLED A DRAKON IN ONE SHOT

Clarisse - …Yeah? THATS ALL YOU TOOK FROM THE STORY

——

Y/n - so have you met Hecate

Clarisse - no Just because I’m a demigod doesn’t mean I’ve met every god, but why her?

Y/n - because she’s cool as shit that’s why

——

Y/n - you shoved a kids head into a toilet because he killed the Minotaur

Clarisse - SUPPOSEDLY killed the Minotaur I mean Percy’s strong now but he was a runt then

Y/n - oh my god clarisse 😭

[greeniegaes]

I’ve been thinking about omegaverse WangXian AU and I’m so not normal about it

Basically, WWX was always known as a beta by people around him, constantly hiding his scent and on such heavy suppressors he’d practically never have a heat. When the Wens take all of the young cultivators/clan heirs or whatever he no longer has access to that kind of stuff and it’s only so long before the medication’s effect goes away.

In the big carnivorous turtle cave he can feel his omega-ness slowly come back so he’s desperate to get out away from all the young alphas and betas he’s surrounded by. Things go as cannon and only him and LWJ are left in the cave and LWJ??? Well he’s not doing too well, neither of them are with their fevers, being stuck in a cave alone and pheromones- oh yea LWJ is in rut too lol

So they do their do in the cave, escaping out and then WWX runs off after making the other man swear he’s not gonna tell anyone that WWX is an omega.

During the attack on Lotus Pier WQ pulls WWX aside asking if he knows about the kit in his womb. WWX, freaking out about it swears her to secrecy. He’s been… kinda aware about it over the month or two that’s past, but just used his high level of cultivation to just keep it in a dormant state.

When he gives JC his core such a thing isn’t an option. He doesn’t want his child to live during a time of war so he promises himself to end the war against the Wens before his birth.

He levels up his demotic cultivation at way faster of a pace, easily out numbering any bad Wen troops, cutting off the supply lines, anything to get an advantage. His tactics are often called brutal, disgusting but most of the Sunshot doesn’t care because whoever is doing it is on their side.

Keeps following cannon but now LWJ has just a totally weird feeling in his gut all the time. He swears he can feel WWX’s emotions, the stress, the fear, the agony all of it. When he finally lays eyes on who he knows is WWX as the man takes down WC and he can’t help but feel relief. Relief that after nine months (WWX froze his pregnancy for like two months so he’s about eight and half along) he’s finally able to see the man he’s fallen in love with, that he spent a rut with while the man was in heat.

WWX doesn’t acknowledge him.

He doesn’t even really acknowledge JC, his little shidi who’s so excited to see him again. WWX remains quiet, a large cloak wrapped over his whole body

Instead of properly interacting with his friends he instead asks when their plan to attack the nightless city is (he has less then two months, and by god he wants peace of mind that his child won’t be born in a war). He lets them take him to the war camp, discussing with the leaders like LXC and NMJ to move the battle forward, saying that he can balance out the sides.

They agree and that’s that.

At the final battle WWX holds up the tiger sigil, controlling more undead then he ever has. He watches as the rest of the tyrannical Wens get torn apart, their army in ruins before NMJ takes their leader’s head. Some of them still fight, and in a blaze of glory WWX destroys the tiger sigil, creating a bright light that takes out more of the Wen’s army, any of the roaming undead and himself.

LWJ feels his blood go cold. He can’t feel WWX suddenly. He canthecanthecant.

Where did his omega go?

Back in Yiling WWX falls to the ground, any last remains of his power, spiritual or demonic finally shredded into pieces. WQ helps him recuperate, Wen Yuan at his bed side as he looks up.

It’s then and there WWX smiles as he promises himself a normal life, patting A-Yuan’s head and scenting him like he’s his own kit.

Two years later.

LWJ feels lost, constantly wandering around for something, any sign of WWX. He’s looking at hair ribbons in a market outside of Yiling, a beautiful red ribbon with lotuses embroidered in it. He jolts as he feels a hold on his leg, looking down curiously.

“Baba?” The little kid asks, no more then two years old. A six year old huffs as he goes over, bowing his head in apology to LWJ.

“Sorry Mister, my brother gets confused.” Wei Yuan huffs, pulling his younger brother away. LWJ sucks a breath in as he looks at the young toddler, tan skin, enchanting yellow eyes, perfectly straight hair except with the tips granted a slight curl.

There’s no denying this is a Lan child, just from looks alone, but the scent surrounding both of the children? That’s something LWJ had smelt once, trapped in the cave in the throes of passion with his mate.

Wei Wuxian. Wei Ying is alive.

A young looking man pulls the children away before LWJ can say anything. The man picks up the two year old and gently holds him in his arms, the six year old grabbing onto the man’s leg, still glaring at the alpha.

“Sorry about that, sir.” A soft voice rumbles with a chuckle, freezing as he looks up at LWJ for the first time.

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv!

Do you know of any fics where draco is really heroic during the war? Like fics where he fights for the light side, kills voldemort, fights in thr battle of hogwarts, etc

I think its a really interesting trope

Thanks!!!

Hi anon! That’s a great ask, personally I love these. Most are spy!Draco fics so he’s usually helping behind the scenes:

Paper Dolls by cupiscent (M, 5k)

In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Speak (and may the world come undone) by @shealwaysreads (E, 26k)

The war is on in earnest, and the hunt for the Horcruxes has begun. Harry receives help from the least expected person, and must decide whether he can trust the enemy he knows best.

In The Hand by aideomai (T, 28k)

Two months after Harry went missing, when Hermione was frantic with fear and panic and sleep deprivation, Draco Malfoy cornered them outside the Great Hall before breakfast.

9 ½ Days by magpie_fngrl (E, 69k)

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (E, 180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[bogkeep]

it was always a strange dichotomy. every middle school classmate i had told me i'd be a millionaire when i grew up, a Famouse Artisté. it's easy enough to imagine as a teen, i suppose: skill equals fame equals money. i was doubtful about this prophecy, not because i wasn't confident in my ability to draw, but because it was hard to imagine a world where i'd be paid for it.

it was an ice breaker game at summer camp. horrible one, really - everyone in a group were given a character profile. now we had to imagine that it was the zombie apocalypse, and the helicopter to safety was two seats short and we had argue why we deserved a spot. the character i got was an asshole doctor of some kind. i don't remember if i argued my way into the helicopter or not, but i do remember the feeling that's been hanging over me my entire life - if the apocalypse happens right now, i have nothing to contribute.

there's something really painful about it. i have cultivated a skill for my whole life, i can make art and tell stories that are entirely unique to me, there is no way to get someone else to create in the exact same way i can, and yet - i've contributed more to capitalist society by sitting in an empty hotel reception for eight hours a day.

which made me develop anxiety, to boot.

i illustrated two children's books. they're some of my best work. the contract i signed was industry standard and the indie author who had hired me was incredibly kind... but even after stock sold out i had earnt little more than some pocket change.

in high school we had an outing to dig our own snow caves that we would spend the night in. in teams, thankfully. i have so little physical strength to speak of, most i could do to help was clear away the snow rubble and toss it outside. i know, i know, my classmates reassured me it was an important job to do, i was an invaluable member of the group, sure - but it's that feeling, you know?

what would my task be in the communist solarpunk commune?

a person cannot be useless. it's a human being. they just exist, no ifs and buts about it. one can only be useless in the eyes of an ableist, capitalist society that sees no value in being alive beyond production and profit.

sometimes i receive messages from internet strangers to tell me something i said - often several years ago - was helpful to them. maybe it was a throwaway comment on a forum. maybe it was replying to a question they could've googled the answer to. maybe it was an encouraging reply to someone's artwork. turns out it mattered to someone. huh.

of course you can learn new skills. i have learnt plenty over the years! i have also learnt that there are limitations to what i can do. that some of the obstacles i face are not in fact obstacles everyone faces. it's not that i can't break tasks into smaller steps, it's more that half of those steps are going to be "rinse your hands because you Touched a Thing and now you're going to have to touch Another Thing." i wonder if that's adding to my cognitive load or something.

i was never raised to be a man, so by all accounts i do not understand why i'm so haunted by the spectre of toxic masculinity - what would i do if i was a medieval peasant and a war broke out? what if i was in a pre-historic hunter gatherer society and i was expected to hunt? what if i was a humble farm boy discovering the sword of the chosen one and the world depended on my non-existing courage to face certain death?

look, it's stupid. these are not scenarios i will find myself in. besides, pre-historic humans depended on community and taking care of each other. that's how we survive.

i'm not useless and i decided to make peace with being useless anyway.

we're surrounded by digital clocks. we can't really escape them. do we need watchmakers? would they save me a spot in the zombie apocalypse helicopter? no, don't answer that. i'm just happy i found something that requires a light touch and an observant eye.

[fanficfindereks]

Percy Jackson Outsider POVs

Only a glimpse into the lives we lead- With all the wars and prophecies finally compete Will decides to take up his mom’s offer to return home for the school year for the first time since he was nine. After everything he’s been through it’s a little strange to go back to the mortal world once again, and people in his town take notice of how different he seems. Or… A series of interconnected one-shots of people from Will’s hometown noticing there’s something different about him throughout the one year he spends going to school in the mortal world.- Archive Of Our Own

A strange string of disappearing children: cult or coincidence?- "So you guys know how Drew and Lacy are big true crime fans?" Piper said, biting her lip to hide the amused smile on her face as she addressed all the demigods who had gathered together in Rachel's cave. Drew and Lacy were currently sitting with their hands over their mouths to hide their own smiles as they waited for Piper to reveal what they had discovered a few days ago, "Well one of their favorite channels did a video about us." Instantly everyone was rushing to crowd around the laptop she was holding to try and see the mentioned video. Piper shushed them quickly, fearing the noise would alert one of the patrol harpies that they were all out of their cabin after hours and with mortal technology no less. Once everyone quieted down, Piper looked at the group with a grin, "Lets watch it. " Or... Buzzfeed unsolved make a video looking into a handful of different demigods and how their disappearances all seem to mysteriously overlap with one another. When the Aphrodite cabin finds the video they gather all the other cabins together to do a watch party and maybe to cause a little chaos once they learn just how interested the country is in their current whereabouts.- Archive our Own

we'll pass around the easy lie of absolutely no regrets- Nell Brackman has been a high school guidance counselor for a long time. She’s seen troublemakers in every variant, dealt with more kids with shitty situations than she likes to think about, and practically has the understanding, comforting, yet firm tone on lock. Her wife thinks the job can be too tough on her, being the one to see Nell deal with the frustration of not being able to do more for kids who just won’t help themselves the way that they need to, but at the end of the day, there is nothing she would rather do more. That’s what she thinks most of the time, at least. The sheer chaos of Percy Jackson’s file might be something that ticks today over into one of the times where she starts feeling differently, though.- Archive of our Own

Introducing: Dock Guy- “I thought we were going to the lake?” Fern turns them around, fidgeting nervously. “Yeah, sorry. Maybe later. Just… you should stay away from the guy on the docks.” That doesn’t sit right with Mel, but they mutter, “Okay.” They’re not really sure what’s gotten into Fern. He befriended Mel, the Crazy of Casper, after all. They're pretty sure that Fern could get along with just about anyone. Mel glances back at the docks. They hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a person sitting at the edge. Dark hair and facing away from them. A pair of shoes are set aside and his feet are dangling in the water. Even from here, he looks deep in thought. They wonder why people, why Fern, is avoiding him. Or, a new camper is told to avoid Percy. They think it's because Percy is the 'weird kid' of camp. They're wrong.- Archive of our Own

Think of the Children- Lauren Bennet has dealt with plenty of overzealous parents before, but this one takes the cake. Maybe they could skip the holiday pageant next year.- Archive of our Own

someone's halls are getting DECKED- “Paul, school let out 3 days ago, and I know damn well you just showed those kids The Muppet Christmas Carol the last few days instead of assigning them any actual work you’d have to grade. Just come over! It’s Christmas, and the last time you saw any of the family was at Thanksgiving 3 years ago. We’re your family, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be together for the holidays. You shouldn’t be spending them alone in your apartment with a cheap fake tree you bought at Lowe’s. Give me one good reason why you can’t come home, no shoddy excuses.” Cynthia said with finality. On the other line, Paul let out a shaky sigh, then went quiet for a minute. “Well?” “Mom, uh… You might want to sit down. I have some… news.” or the blofis family don't know about percy or sally. that is, until paul brings them home for the holidays.- Archive of Our Own

[rohirric-hunter]

Angstober Day 01: Again

I wrote this on the first but decided to leave it to the weekend to edit. And then I had to shove a ton of context into it so it would make sense to people who aren't in a specific discord. Split down the middle because here's some more context in the author's note:

My first concept of LotRO fanfic came to me as I was exploring Angmar, and it was something something dealing with the remnants of Angmar post-war. Mostly just a loose idea, but one that stuck with me and slowly developed as my OCs developed. When LotRO released a quest pack dealing with that very thing, I was pleased to discover that it wanted very little adjusting to fit in with my own ideas. Basically, those adjustments are: the events of the Return to Carn Dum questpack take place over the course of several years, rather than the couple of weeks that it seems to take in canon, and without the intervention of any Player Characters. (The PC only got involved because of LotRO's improbable mail system anyway. Skyrim Courier eat your heart out.) As a result, certain things turn out differently, some worse and some better, and no one outside of Angmar really gets involved until around S.R 1425. This oneshot takes place early in the inevitable conflict. The remnants of the Angmarim garrison at the Ironspan aren't really representative of Ásachal and the other Angmarim still holding on to Carn Dûm, but they are empowered by knowing that Carn Dûm is still in Angmarim hands.

Warning for non-explicit mentions of torture.

~*~*~*~

Not again, you think.

You know very little of what happened to Lothrandir during his imprisonment in Isengard. If Léonys is recalcitrant about her time there, Lothrandir speaks of it both more and less. He mentions it often, but carefully skirts around any actual detail, a habit, you think, that tells a clearer tale than he would like.

Not that the little band of Angmarim remnants who inhabit the tower along the Forodwaith road a few leagues east of the Ironspan could hope to compare to a Wizard. Still, Lothrandir looks eerily similar to how he had in the flooded depths of Isengard, head bowed in exhaustion or pain, knees pulled to his chest, skin covered in bruises and lacerations. The little cave, or more accurately the crevice, that your rescue party had found and made camp in between two great sheets of stratified stone is warmer and homier and definitely safer than the caverns beneath Saruman's tower, but it feels all too similar, seeing him in drafty, damp half-light.

He looks up at your approach, and despite everything offers a thin smile — much as he had for Léonys when she had at last wrested the door open and run to his side, so many years ago. "Hathellang," he says. "I thought you told me you hated it this far north."

Aragorn steps past you and kneels beside Lothrandir, opposite Radanir, who holds Lothrandir's left hand with a grip that speaks of no intention to release any time soon. You can hardly wonder at that, for of your little group only Radanir had ventured into the tower through the gap in their defenses you had found in their primitive and ill-kept sewers and seen Lothrandir in his prison. Perhaps you might have been better suited to the job, for you are more skilled than Radanir at getting into places where you are not wanted and staying hidden, but after having witnessed Lothrandir captured on what should have been a routine patrol of the westernmost side of the Ironspan he would not be kept away from his kinsman for anything. And you had been of more service of a distraction, anyhow, for the scattered remnants of Angmar have not soon forgotten the names and faces of those who were most instrumental in bringing it down. In any event, what you can see of Lothrandir is bad enough, his clothes more tattered than they ought to be after little more than a week, and the worst of it likely hidden by the cloak wrapped about him. You hardly dare to think what Radanir saw. You have been in enough Angmarim dungeons to guess at it.

"Yes, well," you say. "Maybe there's a reason for that. It's always something up here."

You had planned on stuidously avoiding the topic of Isengard, but Lothrandir saves you the trouble by bringing it up himself. "Oh, come now," he says. "It's not so bad. They haven't even got a wizard here, and only one troll."

"No trolls, now," you say. Your gaze falls to the shackles around Lothrandir's ankles, and without thinking you kneel before him, hand fumbling in your pocket for your toolkit. "May I?" you ask, and Lothrandir hesitates the barest moment before nodding.

Like most Angmarim locks, it is not difficult to pick and requires no finesse. This one uses four pins instead of the usual three, but your biggest difficulty is in keeping yourself from disturbing the surrounding bruises and cuts on his legs and bare feet. But you are not unpracticed at this, and pin the shackle tightly between your right knee and the end of your right arm, pin the tension pick against the back of your elbow, and then with your left hand insert a serrated jiggling tool. It is only a few moments of jiggling before the lock pops open and one of Lothrandir's legs is freed.

As he stretches it out, Lothrandir speaks to you again. "I am glad you came," he says quietly. "You traveled far to help me."

You look up from where you are positioning yourself for the second shackle. Really, it would be easier if you would just use your right hand to pick it, but that would require getting into your bag and finding the tool you had made yourself for such purposes, attaching it to your arm, and then putting it away when you are done. It's not worth it, not for this lock.

Lothrandir is not looking at you. His head is turned downwards, as Aragorn runs his hands along Lothrandir's scalp, searching for head injuries, you assume. His face is obscured by hair pushed forward. You put your tools down and reach out, taking hos free hand in yours and offering an affectionate squeeze. "And I'll do it again," you say.

[fivepoolsclans-archive]

Rootstar's Leader Ceremony

Newleaf - Moon 0 - Year 0

Rootember stared down at her paws, her eyes distant to thought, memory, and anxiety. The Cave of Hidden Stars lies just ahead, its maw wide open in the ground. Tonight was going to mark an important night in Rootember’s life; tonight, if all went well, she would receive her nine lives and become HavenClan’s new leader.

Life has not been easy in recent seasons. Cats grew restless, wanting to stretch their paws and bring back the days of old. Times from before the Calamity had struck all four Clans, bringing devastation and threats to their way of life. They say that there had been so few cats after the disaster that what was left of all four Clans had to merge in order to survive. That became HavenClan.

So why go back? Why war over each other like they had before? Why risk another Calamity?

“Rootember!” She looked up to see Figdream’s golden face pop out of the opening of the cave’s tunnel. Even on a night as dark as this, the medicine cat’s bright blue eyes were hard to miss. “They’re ready.”

The Elders once passed on tales of how the cats used to not need an invite before talking to StarClan. Rootember couldn’t understand why not; it seemed rude to walk into their ancestors’ den uninvited. It was the duty of the medicine cat to look for these invitations, and safekeep who goes in and out– to protect the camp that StarClan claimed in the living world. It’s also where the medicine cats would meet every half moon.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Rootember followed Figdream inside the den, saying goodbye to the cool outside breeze as they plunged into the stale damp air below. They padded on a declining slope. Rootember had to dig her claws into the earth to help keep herself from slipping. Figdream rested his tail on her shoulder, helping to guide the to-be leader until the ground leveled out.

“Hey Figdream,” Rootember mewed softly. She didn’t want to speak too loudly, in case it wrongfully disturbed the spirits of their ancestors before they were ready. “Do you ever feel like you might not be cut out for something? Like you’re not ready for what you have to experience, like it’s too soon?”

“Sure,” the younger tom answered. He looked back at her, hardly able to make her out in the dimness of the tunnel. “This is the first time I’ve guided a leader through StarClan’s den for them to receive their lives. I’ve come here many times before, but I wasn’t sure if I had the courage to make it tonight. This is a big deal, you know? But there will always be a first time for everything. There’s rarely a time when it’ll be soon enough for anyone.”

Rootember dipped her head, appreciative for Figdream’s council. He was right. She had to do this, for the safety of the Clan. “Who do you think will be here tonight?”

Figdream let out a quiet puff of laughter, “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Before long, the tunnel narrowed and the two cats came across a strange rectangular stone sitting on rounded paws. It smelled bitter, and the faint scent of Twolegs and dust clung to it– a sign of bygone times when Twolegs frequented the tunnel. It was wedged sideways in the center of the pathway, though it left just enough room at the side for the cats to squeeze through. There was a small opening in the wall on the other side

“You got this,” Figdream smiled and nodded encouragingly. Rootember butted her head against his, then quickly turned to enter the opening.

The tunnel here was small and cramped. Rootember flinched as the walls closed in enough that it could be felt on her whiskers on either side. Luckily, this tunnel was short, and the walls opened up to reveal a small barely lit chamber full of pointed rocks. On all walls, and some of the pointed rocks, there were smaller colorful specks that seemed to glow in the dark and twinkle like stars. With every pawstep that Rootember took, everything seemed to be alive with a dancing shimmer, as if this cave had been able to steal away a piece of Silverpelt.

This is the Cave of Hidden Stars. StarClan cats would leave Silverpelt and visit their sacred den just to talk to HavenClan. Rootember swallowed a lump in her throat, the normally-calm cat awestruck and nervous of the beauty around her. She approached the back wall of glittering stone-bound stars and tucked her paws under her, touching her nose to the wall. Her growling stomach made it hard to clear her mind to sleep, but the exhaustion of the journey did it for her.

When Rootember opened her eyes again, she was in the same chamber but washed in a spectral blue color. Where there had been only Rootember before, now the cave was alive with starry cats stirring from their nests. Rootember’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of fallen friends old and new, family and loved ones, and other ghosts that she had never met.

One of the many starry cats approaches her, though is someone Rootember doesn’t recognize. The stranger was a beautiful white she-cat with brown spots speckling her back and face, her tail ringed with stripes matching the color of her spots. Rootember could feel her heart pulse in her ears as the she-cat’s pale blue eyes made contact with hers. Whoever this cat was, it was clear that she commanded the air around her.

“My name is Redfern,” she said, something about her voice made her feel familiar like an old friend. Warm and welcoming, confident and sure. “You meet me tonight, but the cats under your care will all meet me one day when they join the stars. For now,” she pressed her nose to Rootember’s forehead. A chill ran through the brow she-cat as a feeling indescribable ran through her, making her shiver from head to toe as if leaf-bare had swept through the cavern. “Take this gift, to help you endure in the face of hardship.”

Redfern then stepped back, allowing the other cats in the cavern to share their remaining 8 lives. Rootember couldn’t help but notice some uncertain looks shared between some of the cats, as if they knew something she didn’t. Did they believe in her? Would she make it as Clan leader? But soon, the old leader of HavenClan stepped forward to bless Rootember with another life. All anxious doubts soon melted away.

It felt like several days and nights had passed before the ceremony was finished. Rootember was trembling with the newfound power of nine lives at her paw tips, her chest heaving as she shoulders the intensity and pain that came with each soul that entered her body. But she stood strong and proud, lifting her head up high. Some of the StarClan cats mewed with approval.

“I hail you by your new name,” Redfern purred with a glint in her eye that Rootember could not quite discern. “Rootstar, your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of HavenClan. Defend it well; care for the young and old; honor your ancestors and the tradition of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.” Then, the beautiful StarClan cat stepped forward, her muzzle right next to Rootstar’s ear. “Our way of life depends on you and the choices you will make. Don’t disappoint.”

Redfern pulled away and lifted her head high, “Rootstar! Rootstar!”

Soon the other cats followed, chanting Rootstar’s new name with pride and vigor. It was over before long, as in a heartbeat the ghostly cats were gone. Rootstar was quick to wake, her new name echoing in her ears as she was cast in darkness yet again.

And yet, the voice that echoed the loudest was Redfern’s words: don’t disappoint.

[crucioslut]

'You just go ahead and get some sleep, I'll be fine.'

Bellatrix's blueish blackened eyelids were as heavy as boulders, yet each time they threatened to flutter closed, her head lolling down or to the side, she fought it. Determined to remain awake and alert, no matter how loud her fatigued body cried out for rest.

The prior weeks (Or, had it been months by now?), had been entirely overtaken with long excersions, demanding battles and the kind of anxiety that drifted in and out right at the forefront, mocking as it did. The Order was consistently getting smarter and stronger, growing in numbers and power just the same. Everybody could feel it. No longer was the opposing side absorbed by fear. They'd become driven by something else and radiated confidence that for the first time was palpable.

It made Bellatrix Lestrange positively sick. She would kill all of them, if it was the last thing she ever did. One-by-one, slowly and exquisitely. And when she was finished slaughtering the swine, she would collect all of their filthy heads and present them to her Master. She would make him proud. Just as she always had.

The Death Eaters who remained faithful to the cause all of these years later were tired. They were overworked and losing faith. This was the unspoken truth.

The two witches found asylum in a leaky cave. Hidden away following a particularly intense ambush by the order, resulting in the women losing the rest of their camp as they all fled in different directions. They found cover in the mean time, waiting for Lucius, Dolohov and the others to return and taking a much needed moment's rest. Bellatrix had jumped onto a tall rock and climbed to the top of it, shining a bright purple light from the tip of her wand inspecting the surroundings they'd all occupied minutes prior, the area still piping hot with the remnants of magical war just outside of their cave.

"There's nothing I can see." Bella muttered to her daughter, intently searching for any signs of invisible traps cast by the enemy. "But those pigs are getting clever, Delphi. I don't trust it. We'll stay put until the others return." She said, hopping off the rock. "Better them than us."

At this, Bellatrix began to laugh, her cackles bouncing off the walls and echoing eerily throughout the dripping cave as she recalled her brother-in-law getting blasted right onto his ass just minutes earlier. "Knowing that uncle Lucy of yours, he will simply walk right into it without so much as checking." Bella shook her head, her laugh dying down to nothing. Her expression twisted into something most scornful and sour. "Useless thing, he is. I ought to kill him along with the rest. He's holding us back." She hissed.

Bellatrix slumped down next to her daughter on the ground, releasing a sigh she hadn't known she'd been holding in. They were already filthy and there was no point in wasting the energy casting the dirt and grime away when they'd find themselves covered once again shortly after.

Bella's eyes lazily rolled over to the member of the order that lay helpless next to them. bound and silenced by magic. The iridescent rippled vines binding the red-headed witch's wrists and ankles swirled, shining most brilliantly in waves. Still the witch gave it a good fight, attempting to scream but nothing came out. Bellatrix and Delphini both feeling the intensity of the other witch's focused wandless magic trying desperately hard to free herself, and both easily opposing and overpowering it each time.

The girl wriggled and squiggled, hysterically, attempting to do anything to free herself.

"Enough!" Bellatrix shrieked, whipping her across her face with her wand sharply, leaving behind a welt. "You should be thanking us that you're being left alive. Sit still! You're making me dizzy!"

Bella's head rest against Delphini's shoulder once their prisoner had settled, eyes threatening to shut once again. "You okay, Dove?" She muttered, yawning. A hand moving to hold onto her daughter's arm affectionately.

'You just go ahead and get some sleep, I'll be fine.' Delphini said.

But her mother's eyes widened at that, sitting back up and getting to her feet. "No." Bella said, sternly. That was not an option.

Instead, Bella paced their pretty little prisoner, speaking to her as though she'd be able to respond. "The Dark Lord won't be very happy to me if I brutalize you too badly before he's even gotten the chance to look at you..." Bella's voice was gentle and low, a tactic that drew people to her, that voice nearly warm and inviting. She leaned down and swiped her thumb over the red head's forehead to clear hair away from her face. The younger witch flinched and attempted to squirm from her touch, gazing up at the older witch in total and complete fear.

Bellatrix grinned wide, exposing teeth like a hungry wolf.

"...But I'm sure we can still have some fun."

@daughterofyourdarklord

[anticomedygarden]

Happy 60th birthday, Percy!

-

ao3 link

-

Percy couldn't remember a time Camp Half-Blood had ever been so full.

Not even his first summer, back before the wars when the gods were so damn horny and irresponsible, were there so many people (and mythical beings) packed into the space, made even more impressive by the fact that everyone seemed to be outside on the grounds, and Percy absolutely loved it. He hadn't seen some of these people in years, maybe even decades; apparently, two half-bloods reaching 60 years old - the first in centuries if he didn't include Nico and Hazel - was a big deal.

Of course, a gathering this size was sure to attract more vile attention, and someone had already spotted a couple hellhounds prowling around the wards, but whatever. Somebody younger could deal with it, someone who didn't have creaky knees.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a bright blue streak racing toward the steps of the Big House.

"Grandpa!" little Clio yelled as she catapulted herself into Percy's lap. As the oldest child of Percy and Annabeth's youngest child, Clio was their second youngest grandchild at only three years old. He figured her little brother was probably being passed around somewhere in the throng of people which was how she'd managed to slip away from her moms.

"Hey, squirt," he said, spitting out a piece of her wavy black hair as she got herself situated. "Are you having fun?"

She nodded vigorously. "Aunt Clarisse showed me where to punch someone so they go to sleep, and Aunt Rachel gave me paint tattoos!" She thrust her arms out to reveal both hands covered in roses and vines, and he stifled a laugh. That was sure to go over well with both her parents.

"That's so cool, sweetie," he said while rooting around in his pocket. "Hey, guess what I have!"

Somehow, her big grey eyes lit up even brighter. "What?"

"Candy!" She shrieked  at the sight of the shiny red Kit-Kat wrapper - her favorite, a trick he had picked up from his mom. He quickly unwrapped it and broke it in half. It was his birthday, after all.

A few minutes later found them playing rock, paper, scissors, both of them with sticky hands from the half-melted chocolate bar.

She giggled when he lost the fifth round in a row. "You suck at this."

His mouth dropped open. "Where did you learn that word?" Honestly, Percy couldn't care less what words she used, but kids always loved it when they thought they got away with saying a bad word.

This time was no different. "Uncle Magnus," she said gleefully.

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Did you get to see Uncle Magnus today?"

She smiled and nodded.

Before he could question her further, Lucy, their youngest daughter, appeared at the bottom of the steps. "Dad, have you seen - oh, there she is. Clio, what did I say about running off?"

Mischief danced in his granddaughter's eyes. "Uh oh."

He laughed, knowing full well that the little girl was allowed to go wherever she wanted at Camp since no matter where she went, there would be a demigod, nymph, or some other mythical being ready to lead her back to her parents.

Then, Lucy spotted the Kit-Kat wrapper. "Dad! She's already had three cupcakes today!"

He stared Clio right in the eyes. "Uh-oh." She giggled again, and he looked back at his daughter who was glaring at him fiercely with eyes that perfectly matched her mother's. "She's my granddaughter, and it's my birthday. I can give her as much candy as I want." He started tickling her then and said a silent thank you that she was still small enough to lay down on his lap even while convulsing with laughter.

"Speaking of your birthday, there are a ton of people who want to talk to you down there." Her hands were on her hips, a habit she still retained from childhood. Anytime she wanted him or Annabeth to do something, this was the exact stance they got: pointed look and hands on hips. He caved almost every time, but then again, Annabeth had always been stronger than him.

Now, though, there was another one on his lap, giggling and wanting something completely different from him. "They can wait a little bit longer."

Lucy huffed but didn't say anything, just sat in the chair opposite him. "Where's mom?"

"I think I saw her with Aunt Piper," he answered. "Speaking of, where is your other child? And your wife?"

She waved a hand. "With Grandma." Of course they were. At 78 years old, Sally Jackson was as spry and magnetic as ever.  

In fact, she was coming up the hill with an infant in her arms.

"Mom, how do you always have a kid?" he said, and was pleased to see Lucy stand up to make a seat for her grandmother.

"Oh, no, don't get up for me. I just wanted to pop up here with the baby to say hello." She waved his little arm. "And to answer your question, son, it's grandma powers."

Again, he didn't question her, though he thought quietly that Annabeth didn't seem to attract children the way his mother did.

"Nana, El!" Clio piped from her place on Percy's lap, hands stretching toward her great-grandmother. Ever since her little brother had been born, she had been fascinated with him, constantly wanting to hold him and play with him.

Lucy gave her a stern look. "What do we say?"

"Please!"

Sally gave Percy a knowing look. It hadn't been very long ago when Lucy's older brother had done almost the exact same thing.

Tamping down the odd, bittersweet feeling, he got Clio situated to hold the baby: sitting up on his thighs with his hands under hers, a watchful eye trained on them between her wild strands of dark hair. "Go ahead, mom."

Gently, Sally lowered the baby into their arms. When he was secure, Percy allowed himself to fully appreciate the moment with his family. Four generations of Jacksons, all on the porch of the Big House. One mortal, one demigod, and two legacies. He never thought he'd see the day.

Of course, this party really was special for his mother. Mortals normally weren't allowed inside the Camp boundaries, but an allowance was made for today, just for his and Annabeth's family.

Sally leaned against his chair. "I remember when you looked like that at your sister."

"Mom, I was 17 when Estelle was born."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And? I had never seen you sit so still. You had that same look in your eyes when Paul handed her to you."

"Sure, mom." He knew she was right, but he would never reach an age where ribbing wasn't funny.

She squeezed his ear. "Hey, I wanted to tell you that we're probably not gonna stay super long."

He gave her an offended look. "It's barely even 2!"

"We are very old, son. Besides, we spent the whole day with you on Annabeth's birthday. This party is really for you demigods, anyway, and us old coots have to be in bed by 8."

So, maybe that was true. "Fine."

"Hey, I was wondering where you all were," Lucy's wife Gina said as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. With dark skin and mischief in her eyes, she was a very distant legacy of Mercury that Lucy had met at NRU in college. "Percy, Annabeth wants to talk to you."

"Excellent." If there was one person he would always get out of his chair for, it was her. "Where is she?"

Gina picked Elias up, and Percy set his granddaughter on the ground, grinning when she took off toward the crowd with barely a 'bye-bye.'

"Last I saw, she was at the desserts table."

"Thanks," he said and started heading down.

On his way, he was stopped no less than a dozen times by various people wishing him a happy birthday, some a happy 44th anniversary of the end of the Titan War.

Finally, he made it to Annabeth and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hey, wise girl."

"Seaweed brain!" She turned around in his arms and kissed him as if they hadn't seen each other less than a half hour ago.

"Really? In front of the food?" their oldest child Nathan asked. At 34, he had seen his parents kiss countless times yet always seemed to have the same reaction.

"Yeah, guys, come on, really?" the son of Hermes and hero of Olympus asked as he tore into a blue cupcake.

"Hey, Travis," Annabeth said, arms still around Percy's neck. Nathan had already disappeared to the gods knew where, maybe to go find his girlfriend of 10 years, and they probably wouldn't see him again for a while.

Travis waved his cupcake. "We're so old, you guys. We're all getting into our 60s! What the hell happened?"

Just as Percy was about to ask one of his oldest friends to take his crisis somewhere else, Connor popped up out of no where and said, "Okay, bro, let's go find Katie." He then led his brother away to presumably fall into hysterics in the safety of his wife's arms.

Percy and Annabeth looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Eventually, Annabeth sobered and said, "He's not wrong. When Leo asked Bianca-" Nico and Will's daughter "-to play 'Material Girl', she said, 'I'm not playing freaking Taylor Swift,' and kicked him off the stage." She gave him a pointed look. "We're old, babe!"

Percy laughed. "That was news, like, 8 years ago." It was also around that time he realized their one strand of grey hair had turned into several strands, and Shrek was considered a classic. "She might have a point about Taylor Swift, though."

Annabeth gave him her patented 'don't get me started' look, and he wisely shut his mouth.

"What did you need me for?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I just wanted you to see all this blue food!" She waved a hand toward it all, and he recognized at least a couple of his mom's dishes amidst the blue cookies, blue brownies, blue cakes and cupcakes, and blue pasta noodles. He was practically in heaven.

Annabeth handed him a cupcake and took one for herself, and soon they were walking hand in hand through the crowd that had somehow grown since he first stepped into it.

Most of the faces were vaguely recognizable, people they knew from being the two most famous and revered demigods of their generation. Others, he didn't know. He supposed they were the ones that wanted to see firsthand two demigods that had managed to live so long.

He really couldn't blame them for that.

The rest were people they knew well. Speaking of-

"Magnus, Alex! I'm so glad you guys could come," Percy said when he saw the young blond and his partner. Young was relative, of course. Chronologically, Magnus and Alex were only a couple years younger than him and Annabeth, but that was impossible to know just by looking at them. Both still looked the picture of 16.

There was something to be said there about their perpetual youth as a metaphor for the permanence of death while everyone else aged, but today wasn't the day to think about it. Besides, he liked to leave that kind of thing to Annabeth. Instead, he thought about the novel occurrence of Norse demigod einherjar in Camp Half Blood. There were some Egyptian magicians running around, too. Really put the whole Greek-Roman split fiasco in perspective.

"Yeah, we managed to slip down between meetings," Magnus said. Nearly 45 years later and the Chase Space was going strong, so strong, in fact, that they had opened up several more. It was wonderful, but it was also a lot of work. "Blitz is there now with Hearth."

"Ooh, where'd the blue cupcakes come from?" Alex asked.

Annabeth laughed. "Right over there in the pavilion."

Alex waved in thanks before dragging Magnus over to the food.

Percy turned to Annabeth. "You know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"I get a 10% discount at Burger King now." He was unreasonably excited for it.

She patted him on the back. "Good. You'll finally be able to join me."

If she thought that would rile him up, she was dead wrong. "Are you saying you want Burger King dates?"

"I'd go on a date anywhere with you." Somehow, she said it totally straight faced despite the cheesiness of the line. He appreciated it all the same. The next person they ran into was Grover.

"G-Man!"

"Percy! Annabeth!"

Man, had he missed Grover. The satyr was running an international project to get mythical creatures more involved in environmentalism, and they rarely had a chance to see each other anymore.

"How's the project going?" Percy asked.

Grover beamed. "It's going really well. We just finished planting a bunch of trees in France, and we're gonna go to Canada next to mess with hunters."

Not all of their business practices were strictly legal, but they didn't really need to be, anyway.

Annabeth laughed. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

Grover nodded.

They chatted for a bit longer until Juniper called him over to do something.

From there, they somehow made it to the activities section of Camp, and Annabeth dared him to race her up the climbing wall. She beat him, of course. Just like old times.

Next, they played a game of volleyball against some Roman legacies and won. The legacies were so excited to play with them that they didn't care a couple of 60 year olds beat them.

After that, they ran into Frank and Hazel.

"Hey, you guys," Hazel said. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, Hazel," Percy said. He wondered how many times he had heard that phrase today. "How are you?"

She smiled wide, exuberance only multiplied with age. "We're good. We're moving into the new house next week."

"Awesome," Annabeth said. "We'll definitely be there to help."

Hazel clapped. "Thank you so much! We'll do dinner or something, too, alright?"

At 56 and 58, Hazel and Frank were planning to retire in a few years and had recently bought a house right on the Tiber River in New Rome.

"Sounds good," Annabeth answered.

They moved on, mingling throughout the crowd. They talked to a few people, mostly the ones they knew well, and played some more games. Percy was beat badly by Clio at cornhole, but he took the loss like a champ.

Eventually, they made it to the beach, and Percy wasn't surprised to see a black haired man in a bright orange Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts holding a trident on the shore.

Before he could say anything, Annabeth said, "I'm gonna go see if I can find Thalia."

With that, she disappeared back into the crowd.

"Son," Poseidon started. "It is good to see you."

A warmth seeped through Percy's chest. He and his father certainly had one of the best relationships between a demigod and godly parent in the entire Greek pantheon, and, for that, he was forever grateful. It had actually been one of the reasons Zeus loosened the rules about God's visiting their children.

"Thanks, Dad." Percy waited a moment. "Any particular reason you're here?" As good as their relationship was, Poseidon was still a god.

"Can I not just say hello to my son on his birthday?"

Percy just looked at him.

"Fine, I did want to tell you something." Poseidon fidgets with his beard, clearly thinking deeply. "I would like to revisit the subject of your mortality."

Percy supposed he should have seen this coming. He is, after all, Poseidon's favorite son that also just so happened to be transitioning into his senior years, but ever since it became clear that he wasn't going to try to overthrow Olympus with his considerable power, he had gotten used to not being asked to become a god. It had been nice.

"Dad, I don't want to be a god-" he started.

Poseidon held up a hand. "Let me finish, son." He sucked in a breath. "You know that when you were born, it was a huge scandal."

Yeah, he knew. He still had nightmares about the Olympian council voting on whether or not to kill him.

"Despite that, you became a hero of Olympus many times throughout your life, and you have come to be my favorite son. I value your life, which is not something I say lightly."

"Gee, thanks, Dad," he said sarcastically. "I value your life, too."

Poseidon gave him an unimpressed look, then shook his head as if ignoring his son's poor attempt at lightening the mood. When he spoke, Percy was surprised to hear a quaver in his voice. "I find I am deeply saddened at the thought of your death."

And, okay, Percy wasn't expecting that one. Death had always been a constant in his life, something ever present and surrounding. If he hadn't become accustomed to the thought of it, his life would have been much harder. He wasn't looking forward to it, obviously, but he wasn't afraid. It was a miracle he had lived this long, actually.

"Listen, I know I'm getting up there, but I've lived this long. Mortals today can make it to over 100." He didn't need to mention that fighting was getting harder every day, or that his knees creaked and his back ached constantly. He and Annabeth would probably retire to New Athens soon, anyway.

"I am aware, but I just want you to know that when you do die, you and Annabeth both have a place in Atlantis."

A generous offer, but they had decided long ago that Elysium was the place for them. They didn't want immortality or godhood. The only thing they ever wanted was to live their lives, and they had done that, were still doing that. They would go to Elysium happy.

"Thanks, dad, really," he said. "I'll pass that along to Annabeth." He turned, unsure what to do next.

To his surprise, Poseidon pulled him into a bone crushing hug, one his now 60 year old body would take at least a few minutes to recover from.

Poseidon pulled away. "Go, be with your family." He looked down and rubbed an eye.

Percy has to admit that his eyes were getting misty at this point, too. "Love you, dad."

"I love you, too." Poseidon turned to gaze out at the glittering sea, so Percy started making his way back to the party.

Poseidon stopped him with a word. "Percy?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Happy birthday."

-

A few hours later when the sky was dark and Artemis was high in the sky with her chariot, Percy sat in the stands at a campfire, Annabeth next to him. Most of the guests had left or retired to their cabins, having to put the kids to bed or comply with camp curfew.

Some, though, were still up, and Percy couldn't help but think they made a formidable crowd despite the average age.

Carter and Sadie Kane were seated right next to the fire, experimenting with spells to see which ones could influence the hearth's magic. The flames were already so high and vibrant from the party that their magic wasn't doing much, though.

Farther down the steps were Magnus and Alex who had decided to stay the night rather than go back to Boston. They were talking to the Stolls, Clarisse, and Katie Gardener, which could only bring trouble.

Thalia and Reyna were mingling around the crowd, looking young as ever, as was Apollo, surprisingly. Or not so surprisingly, considering his own adventures as a mortal. Meg McCaffrey was also walking around the fire, throwing things in to see how fast they would incinerate.

Piper and Shel - another mortal, he noted - were talking to Jason and Leo toward the middle of the stands, and Hazel and Frank were roasting marshmallows by the fire with Grover and Juniper.

Just behind Percy and Annabeth, Nico and Will were loudly discussing the latest Marvel movie with Rachel, a debate Percy and Annebeth would surely find themselves drawn into sooner or later.

For now, Percy took a moment to admire his wife. Annabeth, whose hair was more grey than blonde now, who had laugh lines and worry lines, who had never looked more beautiful. She wore all signs of her age like badges of honor - because they were.

He still couldn't believe they had made it this far.

A soft whoosh drew Percy's attention to his left. Beside them, the god of wine had formed out of nowhere, still in a leopard print shirt and looking the same as he did when Percy was 12.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" he said. Percy noticed that the cup in his hand didn't smell like alcohol despite his sentence having ended several years ago. "Mortals, Egyptians, Norse, Romans, and Greeks, all around Hestia's hearth. I never thought I'd see the day."

Percy and Annabeth exchanged an amused glance. "Hey, Mr. D."

"Yes, hello, Peter and Annabelle." He took a sip of whatever was in his cup. "I hope you realize the magnitude of what is in front of you."

Saving them from answering, Chiron trotted up next to his old colleague and said, "It truly is a wonder." He looked straight at Percy and Annabeth. "And it's because of you two."

Percy felt his face heat up, and one look at Annabeth showed hers doing the same.

It was true, though, he realized. None of these people would be here without them.

"I've been doing this for a very long time, and it is rare that any of my students live past their teen years, yet here we are in front of so many that have lived over half a century. I wonder - how long will this last?" Chiron shook his head. "I don't know, but I pray it is permanent."

Dionysus nodded. "Well said. I trust there is room in Cabin 1 for me?"

"Of course."

With that, he stood and walked down the steps of the amphitheatre toward the cabins, away from the fire and the remaining party.

The wine god had gotten much better since the wars and even sometimes acted like he cared, but there were still the rough edges. Percy found that he liked him much more, now.

He was leagues better than a lot of other gods.

Chiron continued. "I'll leave you to the party, but I want you to think about the impact you have had on our worlds." He looked at them sadly. "We will never forget you two."

Once again, Percy's eyes had gone a bit misty, as had Annabeth's. She squeezed his hand. "We're really lucky, you know."

"Yeah," he agreed. They were.

"Hey, I was waiting til the end of the night for this. Come here." She picked up his hand and dragged him to the bottom of the steps, right by the fire. He followed her curiously, sure what else could possibly be happening today. They'd already sung happy birthday, and presents had been sent to their apartment out of necessity for sheer volume.

She looked up at the crowd. "Hey, guys! It's time."

He looked at her, suddenly scared. "Time for what?"

She didn't answer, and he was forced to wait while all of their friends climbed down to the center of the amphitheatre looking way too excited.

Then, Clarisse came around from the side with a small blue cake that looked like a brick with a single candle stuck in it, and he knew exactly what was going on.

"Come on, guys, aren't we too old for this?" he said nervously, slightly afraid that if any of these 50-60 year olds attempted to carry them, they would throw out their backs.

"Nice try, Jackson," Clarisse said. She handed him the plate. "Make a wish."

Even the non Greeks and the rest of the Seven seemed to know what was going on.

"Yeah, Percy, we all wanna see you two get dunked,” Grover said.

Percy turned a betrayed look to him. "G-Man?"

Travis spoke up next. "C'mon, hurry up!"

"Yeah, let's go!" He wasn't sure which one said that.

He looked at Annabeth next. "You're okay with this?"

She smirked. "I organized it!"

Of course she did.

Percy threw his head back and laughed, then blew the candle out without thinking too much.

A cheer went up around the crowd. "To the lake!"

"Wooh!"

And that's how they found themselves being lifted up onto everybody's shoulders and thrown into the lake, having the second best underwater kiss ever.

Tomorrow, they would go home to their apartment in Queens and return to their everyday lives, but they always knew Camp Half Blood would be there to return to, because this place, more than anywhere else, was home.

They were home.

[fanficfindereks]

Percy Jackson Outsider POVs

Only a glimpse into the lives we lead- With all the wars and prophecies finally compete Will decides to take up his mom’s offer to return home for the school year for the first time since he was nine. After everything he’s been through it’s a little strange to go back to the mortal world once again, and people in his town take notice of how different he seems. Or… A series of interconnected one-shots of people from Will’s hometown noticing there’s something different about him throughout the one year he spends going to school in the mortal world.- Archive Of Our Own

A strange string of disappearing children: cult or coincidence?- "So you guys know how Drew and Lacy are big true crime fans?" Piper said, biting her lip to hide the amused smile on her face as she addressed all the demigods who had gathered together in Rachel's cave. Drew and Lacy were currently sitting with their hands over their mouths to hide their own smiles as they waited for Piper to reveal what they had discovered a few days ago, "Well one of their favorite channels did a video about us." Instantly everyone was rushing to crowd around the laptop she was holding to try and see the mentioned video. Piper shushed them quickly, fearing the noise would alert one of the patrol harpies that they were all out of their cabin after hours and with mortal technology no less. Once everyone quieted down, Piper looked at the group with a grin, "Lets watch it. " Or... Buzzfeed unsolved make a video looking into a handful of different demigods and how their disappearances all seem to mysteriously overlap with one another. When the Aphrodite cabin finds the video they gather all the other cabins together to do a watch party and maybe to cause a little chaos once they learn just how interested the country is in their current whereabouts.- Archive our Own

we'll pass around the easy lie of absolutely no regrets- Nell Brackman has been a high school guidance counselor for a long time. She’s seen troublemakers in every variant, dealt with more kids with shitty situations than she likes to think about, and practically has the understanding, comforting, yet firm tone on lock. Her wife thinks the job can be too tough on her, being the one to see Nell deal with the frustration of not being able to do more for kids who just won’t help themselves the way that they need to, but at the end of the day, there is nothing she would rather do more. That’s what she thinks most of the time, at least. The sheer chaos of Percy Jackson’s file might be something that ticks today over into one of the times where she starts feeling differently, though.- Archive of our Own

Introducing: Dock Guy- “I thought we were going to the lake?” Fern turns them around, fidgeting nervously. “Yeah, sorry. Maybe later. Just… you should stay away from the guy on the docks.” That doesn’t sit right with Mel, but they mutter, “Okay.” They’re not really sure what’s gotten into Fern. He befriended Mel, the Crazy of Casper, after all. They're pretty sure that Fern could get along with just about anyone. Mel glances back at the docks. They hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a person sitting at the edge. Dark hair and facing away from them. A pair of shoes are set aside and his feet are dangling in the water. Even from here, he looks deep in thought. They wonder why people, why Fern, is avoiding him. Or, a new camper is told to avoid Percy. They think it's because Percy is the 'weird kid' of camp. They're wrong.- Archive of our Own

Think of the Children- Lauren Bennet has dealt with plenty of overzealous parents before, but this one takes the cake. Maybe they could skip the holiday pageant next year.- Archive of our Own

someone's halls are getting DECKED- “Paul, school let out 3 days ago, and I know damn well you just showed those kids The Muppet Christmas Carol the last few days instead of assigning them any actual work you’d have to grade. Just come over! It’s Christmas, and the last time you saw any of the family was at Thanksgiving 3 years ago. We’re your family, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be together for the holidays. You shouldn’t be spending them alone in your apartment with a cheap fake tree you bought at Lowe’s. Give me one good reason why you can’t come home, no shoddy excuses.” Cynthia said with finality. On the other line, Paul let out a shaky sigh, then went quiet for a minute. “Well?” “Mom, uh… You might want to sit down. I have some… news.” or the blofis family don't know about percy or sally. that is, until paul brings them home for the holidays.- Archive of Our Own

Question!! Are there any Percy Jackson fics where it’s told from the perspective of absolutely normal people who are friends with Percy at school and know absolutely nothing about his demigod life but think he’s some weird cryptid?

[tsarisfanfiction]

One Year

Fandom: Heroes of Olympus Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Nico di Angelo, Will Solace

When the aftermath of one war overlaps with the anniversary of another, something has to give.

Day six of @solangeloweek “collab”.  This fic was inspired by @burning-moths Solangelo art; thank you for letting me write something to go along with it, moth!  I hope you enjoy it!  This is pre-relationship, set a few weeks after the end of BOO.

Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

The date snuck up on Nico. It probably snuck up on most of the rest of the camp, too, the demigods frayed from the almost-war against the Romans, and then the actual war against Gaia, all of them losing track of the days as they struggled through the aftermath of cease-fire, alliances and brutal honesty between the camps.  As the only demigod considered “impartial”, having spent next to no time in Camp Half-Blood while still being Greek, yet holding the Ambassador of Pluto title for Camp Jupiter, Nico found himself stretched particularly thin as almost all the meetings demanded his presence some way or another.

Of course, he was also having to fit that in between a certain son of Apollo’s demands that he rest, insistence that he spend three days in the infirmary, and general presence everywhere Nico turned – or a yawning gap in his periphery when he wasn’t there, which was something Nico was spending a lot of time not thinking about – which made everything that bit more fraught.

Ironically, it was the most welcome he’d ever felt at camp.  The attention was overwhelming at times, and more than once, Hazel had dug him out of cabin thirteen, reminding him that he wasn’t allowed to shadow travel just yet (his sister had spent far too much time with a certain healer, and to Nico’s horror they had quickly allied against him), and gently nudging him to if not socialise, at least not be a hermit.

Nico wasn’t sure who realised the date first.  It might have been one of the Romans, making an offhand comment about Mount Orthys and how it seemed bizarre that they’d had two wars within a year, it might have been one of the Greeks making the same comment, but the mood at Camp Half-Blood took a sudden dive into sombre as it sank in.

The sixteenth of August wasn’t a date that had any real significance to Nico, but it was the first day of the Battle of Manhattan, and the Greek demigods couldn’t forget that date even if they tried.  Even if it snuck up on them and ambushed them in the wake of another war.

Nico hadn’t joined the battle until the seventeenth, on the cusp of Percy’s birthday when his father finally caved to his demands that he set aside his differences and fight, and he’d never really known what had happened before his arrival.  He’d never expected to know, either, but when he trudged into the infirmary for his obligatory check-up and found Will Solace missing his usual sunshine aura, something didn’t quite settle in his mind.

The son of Apollo had been waning steadily since Gaia’s defeat; Nico had almost never seen him outside of the infirmary, aside from short breaks when Chiron or his siblings kicked him out, or that one memorable occasion when he’d collapsed and sent the entire infirmary into an uproar.  Physically, Will didn’t look as bad as he had done at times, but the small smile he dragged onto his face was painfully, transparently, fake, and there was no energy at all in his voice.

“Be right with you.” No Death Boy, Lord of Darkness or any of the other ridiculous nicknames Nico had found headed his way since the battle.  Nothing to indicate Will even knew who had stepped in the door, even though his light blue eyes had flickered up from some sort of paperwork when the door had opened.

Something had drained all the life from the demigod, leaving him almost as pale and lacklustre as Nico himself, and it felt wrong.  Maybe it was hypocritical of him to complain about someone being withdrawn and antisocial when that was his own default state of being, and realistically he knew he couldn’t expect Will to be chipper all the time, but Nico didn’t like it.

“You look like you should be the one this side of the desk,” he said bluntly, leaning against the desk in question.  He was ignored – no quip about how Will was the doctor, or even an attempt at deflection. Just silence as the son of Apollo finished scrawling something down in handwriting that was even less legible than usual before putting his pen down and pushing himself to his feet.

Nico half-expected him to sway on the spot, but Will remained stable even though he moved lethargically, as though his limbs weighed several times what they should and he was pushing through molasses.  It might have been more reassuring if Will had fallen; at least then there would have been something obvious that Nico could do something about.

Suspicious but with nothing to latch onto, Nico followed when he was mechanically led into the infirmary and suffered through Will poking and prodding at him in silence. The other demigod wasn’t as warm as usual, not in his demeanour (although he made a solid if pathetic attempt at faking it) and not where his fingers touched Nico’s skin, and Nico felt like he should say something.

He just didn’t know what.

Did he know Will well enough to call him out on whatever he was pretending didn’t exist?  Will called him out on things all the time, not always relating to his health, so Nico could probably return the sentiment, but he had no idea what to expect.  Will could be stubborn; memories of the son of Apollo dragging himself back to work in the infirmary barely minutes after regaining consciousness despite Chiron and his siblings protesting loudly filled Nico’s mind.

But it didn’t feel right to go along with Will’s façade.  Nico’s gut told him something was wrong and a chance sighting of the date scrawled on the paperwork Will was making notes on as he confirmed that Nico was indeed on his way back to a clean bill of health (although he refused to lift the ban on shadow travelling) abruptly reminded him of the upcoming anniversary.

“Okay, Solace,” he said, mouth ahead of his brain – body ahead of his brain, as his hand reached out and wrapped around the other boy’s wrist firmly.  “You need a break.”

Lifeless blue eyes met his, devoid of the light Nico had come to associate with him.  “I’m fine,” Will said, in a voice that sounded the complete opposite of fine.  “My shift isn’t over yet.”  The smile that stretched over his face was the least convincing yet, deformed and wobbly in a way that felt a lot like a cry for help, and Nico found himself having to make a decision.

Did he let it go, the way Will was clearly trying to get him to, walk away and leave the problem for someone else to handle – someone who was actually capable of handling whatever was going on – or did he dig his heels in and bulldoze his way through?

Most of his instincts were screaming for him to leave, pointing out that Nico could barely sort himself out, let alone anyone else, and that Will wasn’t asking him for help so he didn’t have to get involved.

The rest of him remembered Will reaching out when Nico refused to accept any hands, pushing past his walls because despite the way he was acting, he’d needed help, and saw the reversed situation in front of him.

Will needed something or someone.  Help. Even Nico could see that, and although he was certain he was the worst person for the job, he was there and his feet wouldn’t let him turn around and leave.  Nor would his heart.

“No-one needs help right now,” he pointed out, gesturing to the mostly-empty infirmary.  No-one in it looked like they needed a doctor’s attention imminently; most of them seemed to be asleep.  “Take a break, Solace.”

“I can’t-”

Nico yanked him to his feet and used the element of surprise to drag the other boy into an unoccupied corner of the room, away from anyone else.  Will looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Nico once again realised how unqualified he was for dealing with whatever this was.

He soldiered on regardless, remembering stubborn blue eyes on the battlefield, snatching whatever time they could to convince Nico not to leave, even if it meant drawing the wrong sort of attention.  If Will could try and bash some sense into him in a warzone, Nico could do it in the serenity of the infirmary.

“You look terrible,” he told him bluntly.

“It’s nothing, Nico,” Will tried to convince him.  “Don’t worry about it.”

Nico growled and tightened his grip on Will’s wrist when the son of Apollo tried to walk away.  “It’s something,” he insisted.  “Talk to me.”

“Don’t,” Will pleaded, his transparent façade cracking even as he visibly tried to hold it together. “Nico, I can’t.”  He started shaking, and to Nico’s alarm, his bright eyes grew glassy with unshed tears.  “I have to- Let me- I can’t.”

A single tear slipped down his face, and in a moment of blind panic, Nico found himself resorting to the same thing Bianca had done whenever he was unhappy, pushing away the memories of his sister as he yanked Will closer and laced his arms around him tightly.

“You need a break,” he repeated, tightening his grip when Will made a futile attempt at escaping before the fight seemed to drain from him entirely.

Nico was caught off-guard when a face buried itself in his shoulder and shaking arms wrapped around his own back.  He was completely blindsided by the sobs as hands balled into fists around the fabric of his t-shirt.

Will clung to him tightly, crying near-silently but intensely, and Nico’s brain panicked as he realised he’d put himself in a situation far too far out of his depth for him to handle. There was no way to escape; shadow travel was still banned and there wasn’t a convenient shadow in reach anyway, and Will’s grip was far too tight to wriggle out of.  All Nico could do was follow instincts he didn’t know he even had and hold the crying son of Apollo tightly, hoping it was helping.

At the least, now that Will’s façade was obliterated, he seemed disinterested in releasing Nico.

“I saw them die,” the son of Apollo hiccupped, an eternity later.  His voice was thick and wet, and his head stayed buried in Nico’s shoulder.  “The bridge…  A year ago.”

The words were disjointed, but Nico could piece together the context.  He didn’t know exactly what had happened during the Battle of Manhattan before he’d arrived, but he knew some of the broader strokes.  The way they’d tried to hold the bridges and tunnels before being forced to retreat.

He’d known, in a detached way, that demigods had died.  He’d been the one to perform their funerary rites in the days after Percy’s birthday and Kronos’ defeat.  He’d never really known any of those demigods, though, and it was only a year later, with Will’s grief overflowing, that he remembered how many golden shrouds had been burned, some with bodies and some without.

Will’s siblings.

Siblings that Will knew, that he shared a cabin with, lived with.

Mourned.

“They’re in Elysium.” It was all he could think to say – everyone who had died fighting for Olympus had been fast-tracked straight through, honoured heroes one and all.  Nico didn’t know how to comfort people, how to handle other people’s grief.

(He didn’t know how to handle his own grief.)

Will shuddered in his arms. “I know,” he sobbed.  “Thank you.”

Nico wasn’t sure who he was thanking, or why, but nodded his head slightly anyway, silently acknowledging the words.

“It’s hard,” the son of Apollo stuttered a moment later.  “I…  It hurts.  So many-  Kronos smiled and Michael saved us-  I miss them so much.”

What was he supposed to say to that?  Nico swallowed and stayed quiet, letting Will struggle his way through incomplete sentences because he didn’t know what else to do and he hoped that having someone listening helped, even a little.

Eventually, Will ran out of steam and Nico felt him sag against him.  He took that as a sign to pull Will down onto the nearest bed; the son of Apollo looked beyond exhausted, and Nico said nothing when a blond head fell onto his shoulder.  He really did need a break, but he knew that if he tried to convince Will he’d get nowhere, and Will would probably have a point if he said that there was no-one else who could take over.

The other Apollo kids were no doubt equally grieving, and the rest of the camp just didn’t know enough to keep the infirmary going without them.

What Nico could do was stay with Will, making sure he didn’t overwork himself again for as long as his shift lasted, so that was exactly what he did.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

A collection of fics I’ve read (/reread) and thoroughly enjoyed in the past week-ish from all kinds of fandoms and genres.

ATLA

(Never) Forget Who You Are by mindbending

“Hello, my name is Joo Lee,” says a young man in cheery spring green, his smile stretched to the point of pain. “I have been given the great honor of showing the Avatar around Ba Sing Se.”

“Zuko?!”

The Witcher

Dear by Potrix (+podfic)

The Witcher has pitched his tent in the farthest corner of the camp, barely even inside the clearing they’d decided to use as a resting spot for the night anymore. Mother says it’s because Witchers are protectors, that it’s in their nature to put themselves between the monsters of the world and everyone else.

Romriel isn’t convinced.

Or; 5 times seeing the good in Geralt makes someone change their mind about Witchers + 1 the time the wrong people mistake Geralt's human side for a weakness.

Ballad of the Heart by cpt_winniethepooh (+ podfic)

When Ivolde's town is attacked by harpies, they ask the Witcher for help. Little do they know that he comes with a singing, bubbly attachement in the form of a bard, and they trust neither of them - until they learn to.

SVSSS

Puppy Love by TheLegendOfChel

Twelve-year-old Shen Yuan is ecstatic to finally meet his familiar, Luo Binghe. Binghe may not be the most intimidating demon, sure, but he IS adorable! That tiny, fluffy body! Those cute button eyes! Toe beans!! Who cares about being powerful when your partner is the best cuddle buddy of all time?

Binghe, please stay cute and fluffy forever!

...Binghe? Binghe?!?!?!

Star Wars/Clone Wars

Hot for Teacher by shadowmaat

Based off a silly trope mashup wherein Obi-Wan never became a Knight but instead wound up going into the Teacher Corp and becoming a Creche Master. All he wants to do is take his kids to the museum, but the Council orders him to take along some clone troopers, namely Commander Cody and members of Ghost Squadron. Cody and Obi-Wan are mutually fascinated with each other, but Obi-Wan seems oblivious to Cody's attempts to flirt. And then, of course, just because Obi-Wan isn't a full Jedi doesn't mean he's any less of a trouble magnet.

center stage by deniigiq

They arrive as a pack.

(Outsider POV. Anakin gives his first presentation at an academic conference, and Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and the troopers show up to cheer him on.)

What came after by galateaGalvanized

“Are you all the Council sent, then?” Bo-Katan asks, swinging one leg over the speeder’s seat. Her voice is raspy, and Cody wonders if it’s from smoke inhalation. “Considering they wouldn’t help with the first Sith, I guess I should be glad for any help at all with the second.”

It's the first time he's heard someone use that word to describe Kenobi, and he bristles.

“We’re not here on behalf of the Council, Miss Kryze. We're here for our general.”

Or: Everyone has a breaking point. That includes Obi-Wan.

That includes Cody.

Challenge of the Dark by midget_boss

Several members of Ghost Company end up trapped in a cave system. The experience is a little different for each of them.

sun child by Ro29

“Oh, dear one, how bad is it?”

Anakin whines and a star sizzles out, a glass in the room cracks and shudders.

(or; sometimes being so tied to the Force causes problems, Obi-Wan helps his Padawan as best he can)

[rebrandedbard]

Number 16 - “It could be worse.”

My writing method is just chucking prompt phrases into a mixing bowl with Cool Historical Artistry Facts, a pinch of aesthetic, and a dash of lore, baking it in a pressure cooker and seeing what we get and I love that you encourage this.

16. “It could be worse.”

wc: 1738

Thunderstruck

Geralt and Jaskier come face to face with a violent lightning storm and hide out in a cave. Jaskier is afraid of thunder and lightning. Geralt helps him through it.

-

 Zeniths were a spectacle. To be present in the height of a storm, to be in the midst of its power and bear witness to its thrall is a mighty thing, even in its horror. It served as a reminder of one’s insignificance, and what a magnificent blessing it was to be thus. Jaskier stared out at the storm in awe. He jumped back from the mouth of the cave with a shriek as a bolt of lightning crashed down, splitting the bark from a tree not fifty paces away. Strong arms reached out to catch him as he went stumbling backward.

“It could be worse,” Geralt joked.

The thunder’s echo still rumbled through the cave’s walls, dying under the crash of another, and another, the cave never silent. Jaskier covered his ears and scowled at Geralt. “Oh really?” he asked, raising his voice against the deafening noise. “I feel I’m inside a war drum! I’m jumping out of my skin!” There was a crackling in the atmosphere that stood his hair on end. He’d never experienced anything more frightening in his life, and he’d had to drag Geralt from the edge of death with a mad nightwraith on the prowl.

He shouted and buried himself under Geralt’s arm as another bolt of lightning touched the earth, the sound following not a fraction of an instance after the light flashed. “Why is it touching the ground?” he panted, heart racing in his chest like a frantic horse. His skin was pale in the darkness, almost white, illuminated by the flash of lightning. He shook, his eyes wide with fear. “It’s so close. I swear, a god is trying to smite us, Geralt.”

Another crash outside and Jaskier tucked his head, hands flat against his ears. He whimpered, and Geralt had never known him to show such fear. The fear he knew was comical at times, more urgency or discomfort than any true terror. But this—this was a fear Geralt knew in others. Jaskier reeked of it, and it burned to breathe it in.

Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier, leading him back into the depths of the cave where Roach waited. He set to work making camp, removing the saddle and setting out their bedrolls. With a tug, he pulled Jaskier down onto one, then positioned Jaskier so he lay with his head against his arm. He placed his own hand over Jaskier’s other ear so the sound was twice as muffled.

“Close your eyes,” Geralt said. He then made a sign with his hand and a bright purple glow spread over them. The storm seemed to disappear, only the low bass rumbling through. It sounded distant as if their heads were under water.

Jaskier opened his eyes, blinking in the odd glow. He slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, squinting at the pulsating barrier in a dome around them. “Is this …?”

“Quen,” Geralt answered. “It … dampens the noise.”

Jaskier turned his head to look at him. “You used a sign for me? But you said using signs outside of battle was frivolous.”

Geralt did not meet his eye. He shrugged, putting his hands over Jaskier’s ears once more. “It’s a precaution. In case the storm collapses the cave,” he grunted.

“And covering my ears as we lay together?”

“Would you rather I cover your mouth?”

Jaskier managed a nervous laugh. His heartbeat began to slow—cautiously—and his trembling to cease. He closed his eyes once more. To Geralt’s surprise, Jaskier rolled over, tucking his head beneath his chin. Geralt’s hand fell over his shoulders, cradling him.

For a moment, Geralt felt uncertain. But as Jaskier nestled, breathing gently against him, he wrapped his arms more securely around his form. Though there was little need with the barrier in place, he flattened one hand over Jaskier’s exposed ear and used the motion to tuck his head closer. They lay together until the storm passed, the hours fading into sleep.

 Geralt followed the faint hum of his medallion in the early dawn. His boots crunched over the splinter of charred wood. The fragments littered the area, and the tree had collapsed in the night. He found the place they’d been camping before the rain broke over their heads. The wood of their campfire now lay in a soaking pile, barely blackened. Beyond their camp lay the sandy shore of the lake, and it was there that his medallion led.

Upon the yellow sands he crouched. He brushed the sands carefully as he searched. It was something he’d read about before, something left in the wake of powerful storms when the sky reached down to touch the earth. In the old tales, it was meant as a gift from the gods; a promise that no storm should ever again harm the one blessed with it. The stories were so old, he thought they had no true merit, but the medallion made him rethink his position. He felt a solid bump on the surface of the sand and dug around it. As he dug, a strange tendril emerged. Then another, like the root of a tree in its shape.

Geralt dug the lightning from the earth, made solid and harmless. The glass was explosive, its many branches reaching outward, smooth in places where the lightning melted the sand best, grainy in others. He turned it in his hands, struck with wonder. Touching the thin ends of one branch, the glass snapped free. Upon examination he found that it was hollow within; the lightning had escaped its vessel.

Fishing out his dagger, Geralt selected a wide tendril and scored one end. He tapped it with the handle of his dagger and it fell free in his hand with a clean line. He scored it again, tapped, and a ring fell from the glass. After a bit of searching in his bag, he found a sanding block, pasted with dogfish. He sprinkled a pinch of sand over the block and rubbed the sharp ends of the glass ring over the abrasive surface, smoothing them away.

He washed the ring in the lake and tested its edge carefully. When he was sure the edge was dull, he fished a length of leather cord from his bag and looped it around, tying off the ends. He wrapped the rest of the glass in his spare clothes and carried the lot back to the cave.

By this time, Jaskier was beginning to stir.

Geralt tapped his shoulder. “Hey,” he coaxed. “Wake up, I’ve brought you something.”

Jaskier turned over groggily. “Is it breakfast?” he asked. “If it is, you can leave it by the fire. I’ll get to it. Just … twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes indeed. Geralt chuckled and pried one of Jaskier’s eyes opened. “It’s not breakfast. It’s something rare. Something I think you’ll find fascinating.”

“Can’t I be fascinated in the late morning for a change?” Jaskier complained. But in spite of the early hour, he sat upright and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, I’m up. What’s so rare and fascinating? Are we off to see some nigh-extinct bird that only comes out at dawn in this isolated range of the mountain? Some magical fish that walks on land two days of the year during mating season?”

“Give me your hand,” Geralt said.

Jaskier squinted at him in suspicion. “Geralt of Rivia, I swear: if you’ve woken me up to put a bug in my hands, I will spit in your eye.”

Geralt sighed as he reached into his bag. “It’s not a bug. Will you just do it?”

Cautiously, Jaskier held out his hand, still keeping it rigidly close to snatch away should he spy any hint of a creepy crawly thing, whether by leg or antenna. Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled his hand forward. He dropped the ring into his palm, letting the cord drape over the side.

Jaskier’s eye widened and he picked up the ring, inspecting it in the early morning light. The glass was a marbled yellow and white, speckled with flecks here and there of brown and tiny black particles. “Oh,” he whispered in admiration. “Oh, what is it?”

“Fulgurite. Lightning glass.”

“Lightning glass?”

Geralt nodded. “When lightning strikes sand, it melts it into its shape. There are stories of it, though I’d never seen it before. In some stories, the lightning becomes trapped in the glass, released only when it is broken; a punishment from the gods for those who wished to claim their power of nature for themselves.”

He opened his bag and removed the hollow glass for Jaskier to inspect. “There are friendlier stories,” he explained, “wherein the glass is a blessing. After difficult storms pass, a mass of fulgurite is left behind. He who finds it and carries it with him is blessed with fair weather all his days. The hollow in the glass is the eye of the storm, the one place of calm amid the chaos.”

Jaskier poked a finger through the eye of the ring. “Fascinating doesn’t begin to cover it. Song worthy better hits the mark.” He passed Geralt the ring as he packed away the glass once more, but Geralt stopped him, closing his hand around the ring.

“I want you to keep it,” he said. “To protect you. Lightning will never strike near you so long as you wear it.”

Jaskier stared down at his fist, opening it slowly to reveal the cold glass ring within. “I thought you didn’t believe in stories like that,” he replied.

Geralt picked up the ring by its cord and lowered it round Jaskier’s neck. “Some stories—some superstitions—are facts forgotten by time. Whether or not it truly will guard you from storms, we’ll learn in time, but I can feel that there is magic in this.  There are charms in this world, if you know where to find them.”

Jaskier pressed the tips of his fingers to the ring, a small smile tugging his lips. It rested against his collar with a comforting weight. When he looked at Geralt, his eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners.

“Thank you, Geralt.”

He stood up, one hand on Geralt’s shoulder for balance. As he did, he leaned in and pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek in passing, then went to see about getting breakfast started.

Geralt knelt frozen on the spot.

Thunderstruck.

[alicee1]

Old friends

Technnoblade x GN! reader

warnings: mentions of battlescars

word count: 2.1K

Requested: nope

Synopsis: Phil seeks you out as both his and Techno’s old friend, hoping a familiar face would help Techno after Tommy’s betrayal and for old times sake. Besides that, they can use your blade in the upcoming war. 

A/n: Requests are open, enjoy!

Rules, Masterlist

The cloak wrapped around your shoulders shielded you against the snowy terrain. The hood pulled over your head as you looked at the snowy wasteland surrounding you.

 The coordinates Phil had given you had confused you at first, after looking at the large map decorating the wall of your cabin you had found it to be the middle of a tundra.

 "Why are you here Phil?" The questioned rolled off your lips as you leant against the doorframe, looking at the older male.

The mangled mess his wings had become was visible behind his frame, evidence of the different paths you had taken long ago.

 He could see the small silver lines that littered what was visible of your skin, different shapes and patterns showing that all those years you hadn’t sat still either.

 "It has been a long time, hasn't it?" A small smile tugged at your lips as you stepped aside, "make yourself at home."

The man looked at you before stepping inside, your living room was small and cozy, although evidence of your adventure was subtly found all over the place.

A fireplace heated the room from one corner, a couch and chair around it with a small coffee table. On the wall beside it hung a large map, almost the entire SMP planned out on it.

As he sat down he could see the bouquet of fresh wild flowers displayed in a vase. On the shelf stood various objects presented, some he recognized from your shared adventures back in the day.

In another corner stood an armor stand, well used armor made of shining black metal displayed, your signature cape hastily thrown around its shoulders.

"What’s the reason you came to seek me out?" You questioned as you returned to the room, two cups with steaming water and a small box with different types of tea in your hands as you handed your old friend one.

Dumping some of your favorite tea leaves in a small satchel to hang in your cup, you sat down on the chair, leaning on the armrest lazily as you send an amused look to one of your oldest friends.

"Is it wrong to want to visit an old friend?" A small smile formed on his lips as you laughed, steadying the cup in your hands before looking at the man once more.

"Of course not, I'd just imagine you'd sent word of your settlement if you wanted to keep contact. No matter the cause, how have you been Phil?" Your words held an undertone of understanding to it. It was obvious he had suffered through the years of your absence, the current state of his wings only part of the overall story.

He sipped the warm drink in his hands, "it's been eventful, although I'm sure you're familiar with that." A small nod of your head said enough as the two of you caught up.

He told you his stories, about how he gained a son and lost him, the tale of a place called L’manburg. He told you how it was recent that Techno freed him from a forced house arrest and how they had taken a kid called Tommy in. 

How he had betrayed them. 

You knew Techno well, meeting him around the same time as you and him met Phil. The three of you travelled together for a long time, years even. Techno was a loyal man, you had learned that long ago, paired with his strength came an unwavering loyalty that would hurt him someday.

Without doubt he would lay down his life for those he trusted, often had he proved that to you, to Phil. An undying sense of loyalty and the need to protect those he held dear. 

Listening to the story of how this kid betrayed him hurt, you knew he wouldn’t take kindly to it either. Phil had told you of their plans, they’d need your blade in the war to come and you were more than happy to help.

He ended up inviting you to his new residence, in the middle of an arctic tundra where he resided with Techno. 

Leaving you to consider the offer, he had left the coordinates on a small piece of parchment, saying that you could come find them as soon as you made your decision.

At the end of the week you had searched every chest in your house, packing everything you'd need for the journey and more.

At the beginning of the second week, you were on your way. Map taken from the wall and stuffed carefully amongst your other belongings.

In shining black armor made of the strongest material you had found thus far, Netherite, glowing with enchantments you had casted on it you made your way through forests and field.

The signature cloak that you had worn constantly during your adventures pulled around your shoulders, knowing you'd need all protection against the cold you could get.

You had been right, the armour and weapons you carried weighing heavier and heavier as your feet disappeared in the deepening layers of snow that covered every surface.

Cursing yourself for not taking the undoubtedly quicker route through the nether, you continued on. In reality, your knowledge of the routes in the hellish place was limited, far too limited to venture out and find his portal.

When you saw the house with lit up windows in the distance you audibly sighed in relief, you had made it.

Inside, Phil had used about every excuse he could think off to keep Techno in his house, for supplies he'd go out to get them. He wanted Techno to be home when you'd arrive, he knew you would, you had agreed to join them. He just didn’t know when you’d arrive.

"I can go get them." He spoke as he pulled on his jacket, wrapping a fur lined cloak over it to protect him against the blizzard that stormed outside.

"I don't understand why you're so desperate to keep me inside Phil." His own coat was already wrapped around his shoulders as he leant against the doorframe, ready to head out and gather new firewood.

As Phil struggled to think of an immediate excuse, Techno already had his hand on the door knob, twisting it as he opened the door.

His brows furrowed as you looked right at him, surprise etched on your face as your hand uselessly hung in the air, about to knock on the door that he had opened.

"y/n?" Your name rolled off his lips as a smile formed on your face, your hand uselessly falling beside you, "missed me?"

He pulled you inside, the task he had in mind completely forgotten as you stepped into the house, looking up at the pig skull adorning the male's face.

You could see his mouth turn into a line as he looked at your inadequate protection against the cold climate. He asked Phil to grab some spare logs out of the basement for the fire as he pulled you towards it.

He took your cloak as you unclasped it, the snow making the material heavier, soaking it. Even under the cloak you were soaked, your body heat forcing the snow that reached your clothing to melt.

Techno pulled out another armor stand, positioning it beside the door as he hung your cloak besides the fire.

After you had finally shed yourself of the heavy armor, placing the weapons and tools you carried beside the armor stand, you sighed in relief as you stretched your aching limbs.

Phil came in, arms filled with wood logs that he laid down beside the fireplace, tossing one in before granting you a small smile.

 From behind you, Techno approached, pulling off his own cape before hanging it around your shoulders. The fur brushing against your cheek as you send him a grateful smile, "thank you." A small rumble left his form in response.

You sat down near the fire, leaning back as you finally allowed your limbs some well-earned rest.

"What are you doing here?" Naturally that would be his first question, your eyes met Phil who simply shrugged his shoulders, "I invited them. Figured we'd need the manpower," he gave you a small smirk, "the company would be nice too."

A chuckle left your throat as you looked back to Techno, the mask hiding most of his face, "Besides that, I've wanted to visit for a while. Just didn't know where to look." you shrugged your shoulders as you pulled the red velvety material closer around your form.

The flames danced happily in the fireplace, casting a comfortable warmth onto your face.

"It's been a while." you muttered, seeing Techno move closer to you as you leant against the wall from your position on the ground, years, maybe even decades had passed since you last travelled with the two males. The memories still fresh in your mind however as they raced through your mind.

Turning your head back to the pink haired male, you spoke up, "I'm assuming the saying still stands?"

From underneath the mask you could see a small smirk tug at his lips, "Technoblade never dies."

A small scoff left your lips, a small smirk finding itself onto your face, "Of course, what did I expect?" you still remembered the first time the words left your lips.

The blood on the ground fresh as you sat down, exhausted, the wood fence poking into your back uncomfortably as you pulled the cork out of the health potion in your hand, bringing the bottle to your lips and chugging the liquid desperately.

A swarm of venomous cave spiders had popped up from what you thought to be a blocked off side entrance in the maze of hallways that made up the mineshaft. Phil had offered to set up a small yet safe camp in a large opening at the end of the cave, leaving Techno and yourself to explore.

He had been at your side in a second when he heard your shriek echo through the hallways, glowing sword in your hand as the other desperately clutched your upper arm where you had been bit. Despite that you stood unwavering, your blade slashing through the creatures that speedily approached you.

Together the spiders had been taken care of quickly, despite the couple of bite marks now littering your skin. The wounds grew closed as you carefully applied a regeneration potion to the areas, offering the remaining of your bottle to your friend.

"Are you good? I've got like half of this potion left if you're out." your voice echoing of the walls as you stood up, the potion in your hand.

A small smirk played on his lips as he turned to you, making you realize he didn't even get bit once by the spiders.

"I don't need potions."

"You're going to die without eventually." you cocked your head, unimpressed at the cocky male as you replugged the potion and put it away.

"Technoblade never dies."

"Technoblade never dies?" an amused smile played on your lips as you looked at him as he nodded his head in confirmation.

"Can you say the same?" Techno asked, leaning back as you could see Phil turn around behind him, curiously watching you and listening along for an answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, "naturally. Can't say it hasn't been close though." Your hand moved to the small satchel at the side of your belt, pulling it open and producing a small doll like figure.

"A totem." Techno concluded as he looked at you, in response you nodded, "Yes, they're true life savers when it comes down to it."

Phil sat down with the two of you as you tossed another log into the flames, "So you're the person that raided those mansions."

The nod of your head was enough of an answer as you returned the small object to the satchel it had come from, "how many do you have?" Phil asked curiously as you gave him a small smile, "I've got about... 5, i think in my ender chest."  

The two males nodded as you buried your entire form in the comfortably velvet and fur of Techno's cape, inhaling his scent through your nose as you closed your eyes for a second, although it only felt like a second to you.

Phil's elbow found Techno's side as he looked at you, both males watched your crouched form, face hidden by the fur of the cape the engulfed your body, Phil looked questioningly as Techno who stood up. 

"I'll take care of them Phil." Techno spoke, hooking his arms under your knees and under your back, picking you up gently and taking you to the upstairs of the cottage.

Placing you in the bed and pulling the covers over your form, Techno left his cape around you as he noticed how comfortable you looked with it. A small smile formed on his lips as his hand unwillingly brushed some hair that had fallen in your face and pushed it behind your ear.

"I'm glad you found me."

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Fremione 46 !

"we slept like dogs down by the fire side / awoke to the fog, where all around us: / the boom of summertime"

(old pine, ben howard)

He thought it was funny that she wanted to go camping. At first.

“Didn’t get enough of the outdoors during the war, did you?” he’d teased her, watching her restless circuits around the flat with a watchful eye. And then she’d actually started packing, actually started making plans, and he’d been forced to confront the fact that she really did, apparently, want to do a bit of wartime re-enactment and go on a camping trip.

Only, she wanted him along this time.

“I just—it was something I did with my parents,” she’d explained. She’d tried to hard to sound rational and prim while talking out what were so clearly her own deep, deep feelings. “For years and years, you know? And it was good. I loved it. I loved camping, and now I feel like—with everything,” and everything was certainly an understatement, he thought, “it’s ruined somehow. Like I’ll never be able to get it back—”

That was when it stopped being a joke.

She didn’t have to say what she was scared of never getting back. Everyone knew, by now, where her parents were and why they stayed there. And he knew, probably better than anyone, how it hurt her. How she squeezed out silent tears when she believed nobody to be around.

It wasn’t camping she missed.

But he agreed to go anyway.

“Of course we’ll go,” he’d said, trying to sound less careful than he was being. “Can’t let my git brother ruin camping forever, yeah? We’ll make some new memories.” He’d wrapped his arm around her rounded shoulder and squeezed tight, feeling her cave into him just a little. “Good ones.”

-

Of course, he’d gotten into the theme a little bit.

He’d gotten some of those flannel shirts with red-and-black checkerboard print, knowing full well they’d clash with his hair. He got an axe. He got several axes, actually. That was about where his knowledge stopped.

But together, they’d picked a new camping spot—somewhere neither of them had been before, which was possibly a stupid idea. But he liked the look of the place: the rugged cliffs and crashing seaside, and all that green. They’d applied for an international portkey, and they’d both set aside some time—one whole week of the summer, just for them.

And when the time came, they’d packed their camping gear in Hermione’s little beaded bag—newly registered, now legal—and they’d gone.

-

Hermione did not take to sleeping outside again immediately.

He had to convince her to only put up a few wards around their tent, arguing that a pool of silence and stillness at the edge of a cliff was probably actually more conspicuous than just camping normally.

But he understood her vigilance—had worked hard to exorcise it from his own mind, and he had suffered much less. So, he checked the wards when she told him to, and he held her when the wolves howled in the evenings, making her jump and twitch.

-

For the first three nights, she woke screaming.

He was grateful for the wards then.

-

On the fourth day, they finally stopped hiking like she’d so industriously planned for them and went to a beach: all sloppy grey sand, closer to stone than anything soft enough to walk on in their bare feet, and churning wind. But they still made a day of it.

He rolled up the hems of his muggle denims and splashed her with seawater, and the first proper smile that came bursting over her face was more than enough reward for becoming completely submerged and ruining a perfectly good flannel shirt.

-

On the fifth day, they skinny dipped.

Fred was beginning to think he liked camping.

And he could see that Hermione was beginning to like it again, too.

-

On the last full day, they decided to move camp.

It was a ridiculous, impulsive decision, borne of Hermione’s sudden desire to get close to the water. Something about it reinvigorated her, and the dusky glow in her cheeks was too perfect to be argued with, so they uprooted everything—luckily with the help of magic—and relocated to the water’s edge, where they played in the surf until their muscles were sore and Fred was sunburnt.

Above the highest reach of the tide, they set out sleeping bags by the fire and zipped them together, with only a few wards to keep the water from soaking in. And a spell to hold their makeshift cocoon in one piece.

Cold sand coated their blankets and their feet, which kept tangling together as they lay under the open sky. The wind no longer felt so abrasive; maybe they were just used to it, he reasoned. Or maybe a warmer front was coming in: a wistful goodbye from this strange, rainy place.

That night, the fire crackled beside them as he rolled onto his side and tucked a curl behind Hermione’s ear.

She was still gazing at the stars, so he spoke in a whisper. “Good memories?”

A little smile curved the edges of her lips, and he thought it looked wistful, too. “The best,” she answered, and he knew she was telling the truth, because it glowed in her chest like an ember. “The fog’s rolling in,” she murmured, pointing out over a distant stretch of beach. The line between land and water was gone, blurred away into a smeary, grey smudge.

He smiled, knowing that they would disappear into it for the night, too. Their knot of blankets and firelight would be swallowed by clinging grey, by dark and damp air.

And come morning, they’d emerge again to meet the sun.