#the horrors are chasing you and They Will Get You

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I think it took a while to really get through to me that book!Armand's amnesia only lasts for like. two years. afterwards, his primary problem lies in expressing those memories (and the trauma therein) or periods such as his time with the children of darkness when he unsuccessfully tries to smother them. show!Armand still remembering so little about his pre-Marius origins so many centuries on--not actually being sure what his original name is, having a shaky mental timeline of his original abduction (people have pointed out that he seems to recall being sold in 2x04 vs being chased down in 2x05), etc is very much an adaptational choice. there are all sorts of fucked-up potential reasons for why he never remembered in the show the way he did in the book; Marius theorizes in Blood & Gold that his having sex with Armand might have strengthened the amnesia, so maybe Marius letting others do the same made the problem worse? or maybe Armand being turned older didn't have the restorative effect on his amnesia that it seems to have had in the books.

it's just so fucked up how book!Armand's past, his memories of his culture and the way it contrasts so sharply with the new world he finds himself in, is such a significant part of his journey. his return home and his final goodbye to his parents is probably one of the most beautiful and devastating moments in the book, and it's something that show!Armand never experienced and never will. it's like the horror of having to confront the awful bleeding gap you left in the lives of the people you loved vs the horror of not knowing who those people were or even if they loved you at all. the horror of returning to your homeland when it's ravaged by invasion and grief and despair (just like you) vs the horror of having a colonial black hole where your past should be (and feeling like a bit of a black hole yourself).the differences there provide so much room to explore--is show!Armand ever going to have his own opportunity to go that a place he once called "home?" will he ever remember anything more? would it even change things at this point if he did? I don't know, but it messes me up a little, I think. fuck.

[demigodsanswer]

okay what is the TUAP prompt/moment outside of one of your fic verses/timelines that you would be the most excited to write about if it was asked about? I want to read that!!

Oh! The story of Percy and Annabeth's engagement party and wedding, which is basically a nonstop series of Chase family drama. This whole idea is the result of @darkmagyk and me "yes and"ing each other for hours. I won't write it now, because it would probably be, minimum, 20,000 words.

It features:

Annabeth's step-mom making her cry at her engagement party

Percy and Annabeth running away from their own engagement party to get plastered at a dive bar

Finding Annabeth's birth mom in the dive bar

Annabeth's birth mom paying for all of Percy and Annabeth's drinks until they are blasted

Fred interrupting Percy and Annabeth during some morning sex, and not clocking at all that that's what he's done.

Fred Chase finally divorcing Annabeth's step mom

Annabeth inviting her birth mother to her wedding

Her birth mother attending the wedding

Annabeth parents rekindling something

Paul and Sally watching in shock and horror at 1-9

Percy and Annabeth finally getting married out on the beach on Long Island

Beckendorf as the officiant because they could not decide who's wedding party he got to be a part of

Them partying on the beach until midnight, and then continuing to party until about 4am.

I did draft a little bit of this, specifically #5, a while ago, so I'll drop that here. cw for some nsfw content & bondage, but mostly the snip-it is about how remarkable it is that Annabeth is known for her musicality and artistry in ballet, when her father could not possibly have worse timing.

Annabeth had several strategies for coping with anxiety before it became a panic attack. Most of them were therapist-approved grounding techniques, but her personal favorite involved asking her very handsome fiance to tie her up and make her submit to him. Or, more accurately, let her lay there while he made love to her, without her having to do anything but listen and feel how much he loved her. 

She’d started panicking that morning, recalling distantly the disastrous events of the engagement party that had ended with them fleeing their own party in favor of a hole in the wall. Percy had held her gently at first, and then kissed her, and then kissed her again. Annabeth took his hand and started to move it for him, confirming exactly what kind of grounding she wanted at that moment. 

They’d collected a few different restraints since they’d made this discovery a few years ago. But their favorite was still a long, uncut satin pointe shoe ribbon. The satin was familiar to Annabeth, and she was used to its supportive tie around her ankles. It felt secure and comforting now around her wrists. And Percy thought it made her look oh so pretty. Hungover, he decided to tie her to the headboard with a loose bow, in case either of them suddenly needed an escape. But Annabeth wasn’t feeling particularly bratty that morning, and wasn’t likely to pull on her bonds too much. 

Percy had gotten her off twice in rapid succession, keeping his mouth on her as she came, working fast to pull another orgasm out of her. When she finished, he lavished her with praise and assurances that he loved her. His mouth tasted like her. 

Annabeth looped her legs around his hips and tried to pull him into her, but he just smirked. Other days, he might have teased her for being needy, or for begging for it, but that morning he just ran a thumb along her jaw and said: “You can relax. I’ll take care of you.” And she’d melted back into the mattress, letting him do all the work. 

He’d only been inside her for a single blissful minute when there was a knock at the door. 

Percy and Annabeth exchanged the same look. They stayed totally still, as if they’d been caught fucking in Jurassic Park. 

“What the fuck --” 

“Who is that --” 

There was another knock, and then a familiar voice called out: “Annabeth are you in there?” 

Percy swore under his breath as he pulled out. Annabeth bit the inside of her lip to keep from whining as he did. 

“Thirty years,” she complained as Percy untied her. “He had thirty years to check in on me and he chose right now to start?” 

Percy kissed her forehead. He hated the idea of leaving her in bed alone mid-scene, but he wasn’t going to make her face her father in the state she was in. 

“I’ll tell him you’re asleep,” he said, getting out of bed, throwing on his robe, and quickly shuffling into the bathroom to wipe his chin with a baby wipe. He made his way through the kitchen, kicking Annabeth's discarded dress (hopefully) of the line of sight. They’d barely got in the door before he’d pressed her to the wall of their kitchen, fucking her right where she stood. He picked up her ruined panties and shoved them in the robe pocket. There was cum on his kitchen floor. What the hell had they done last night? 

Now that he didn’t have Annabeth to distract him, the headache building behind his eyes was getting worse. The only solace was that the pain made his erection fall until it wasn’t noticeable under the robe. 

Percy looked through the peephole and sure enough, his soon-to-be father-in-law was still standing there looking nervous. 

“Hey, Fred, sorry, Annabeth isn’t feeling well,” Percy said, opening the door as little as possible. 

His eyes went wide with concern. “Does she need to see a doctor? Should I help?” 

“No, no,” Percy said, holding up a hand to keep him from entering the apartment. “She’ll be okay. It’s just a hangover. We both just need to sleep it off.” 

“Oh, I’m keeping you up then?” He asked. 

The opposite really, Percy thought, lamenting his blue balls. 

“It’s alright. Annabeth is sorry about how things went last night, and she said she’ll call you later, okay?” 

“Sure. Percy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Call me if you or her need anything okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen to her.” 

“Right,” Fred said. But from the look on his face, Percy could tell that hadn’t reassured him. Fred tried to peak past Percy, as if Annabeth might be asleep right behind him. Percy didn’t try to block his view anymore than he already was; he was trying so hard not to be suspicious. “Sorry, it’s just that the last one said that too.” 

“Oh,” Percy said, suddenly feeling the familiar distress and rage that came with being compared to Luke. “Well, I’m actually serious about that.” 

Fred just nodded. “Make sure she drinks water,” he said. 

“Sure. I’ll make sure she calls you.” 

“Great.” 

“Great.” 

Percy finally closed the door. 

On his way back to the bedroom, he paused to get her a glass of water. 

Annabeth was pacing their bedroom, still naked. 

Percy took a long moment to admire her before handing her the water. When she finished the glass, he pulled her in for a long, deep kiss that got his motor going again. 

“How did that go?” She asked. 

“He definitely thinks I killed you and am hiding your body in here,” he tried to joke. “I told him I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, but he just said that Luke also always said that.” 

Annabeth nodded sadly. “My dad doesn’t have great timing,” she rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry he said that to you. Actually, I’m sorry my family is just … like that.” 

“It’s okay,” Percy said, even though he felt like it was certainly not okay. 

Annabeth kissed him again. “Want me to tie you up? Make you forget about everything for a little while?” She offered. 

They’d never done it that way. Percy considered it. “Maybe,” he said. 

“Get back in bed, baby,” she said, undoing his robe. “I’m not finished.”

[photobombingcryptid]

Words become stuck in his voicebox.

There's so many things he wants to mention: getting spiked, getting kidnapped and chased around by a gang led by Mismatch who knew too much about Vortex. But those words don't budge at all and those lips refuse to part open.

Because, in the end, he hits the same roadblock.

He doesn't know what happened.

It's as if someone had snapped their fingers to fast-forward time to Blaze's murder spree and Vortex's rescue. He's confronted with a relapse in his own memory, staring at vast nothingness that doesn't explain how we went from the two wildly contrasting states. He recalls being held captive in one second and killing them on in the next.

It doesn't help that the nothing somehow pulls him in.

There is something in that void.

The momentary distraction is welcome, even if Blaze says nothing. Still deep in thought, he pops it open and takes a big sip, allowing the high grade to sweetly burn at his intake.

He's always liked this flavour.

Blueberry.

...

...

His servo tightens around the bottle.

He turns the bottle around to read the label.

... High grade. Blueberry flavour.

Blueberry.

He remembers.

That word alone is enough to cause a ripple in the void. Like curtains opening, everything is revealed to him and the sheer horror sets in.

The bottle drops to the floor, his back plates unfurl and he's up on his pedes backing away from the bottle. His venting becomes quick and uncontrollable.

Menticide.

The device.

He— Blaze—

He did this to Vortex.

He nearly killed him.

Oh, and that cruel thing. It pinches his back, he can feel it there he—

Gone.

It has to be gone for good.

He reaches behind himself to rip it out and he could care less how much it hurts. How much it feels like shredding his own spine. Or how much blood it begins to coat the floor in the lounge.

He doesn't care, why should he care?

It was him who did it.

How can Vortex be able to look at him ever again?

Fragging weakling, fragging bastard for all of this, you did it, you did it, youdidityoudidityoudidit—

The bond stings.

The Combaticons haven't felt this much pain since the war and they forgot how much it can hurt when one of them is in distress. They know that Vortex is still alive, faint as his side of the bond is, but are also prepared for the worst.

When Blaze steps out of the spaceship, his face says it all.

Whatever happened was too much for their chaotic helicopters to handle and that detail concerns them all.

Onslaught quickly brushes past Blaze to head inside and search for his comrade while Blast Off approaches him more carefully to bring him down the ramp. The shuttle wants to ask what he meant by not knowing what happened, but he can tell the mech is in no condition to talk, too traumatized so he holds back for now.

Sweet Primus what happened to you.

Those words are heard through their connection; though the others can't see what Onslaught is, they can feel the uneasiness.

It doesn't take long for Onslaught to return outside, the IV bag resting on his shoulder as he holds Vortex in his arms with the gauze covering his shattered face. "Blast Off, Swindle, I'll need your help in the repair bay. Brawl..." He stops to look at Blaze. A part of him is grateful that he brought Vortex back, a thank you at the edge of his vocalizer, yet seeing him completely unscathed made him unsure whether he should be. "Watch him."

With that, the Combaticon leader carries on into the mansion. The others follow as Brawl scoops Blaze up and holds him, knowing he desperately needs it and avoids letting him walk as he looks like he isn't all there.

While everyone heads to the repair bay, Brawl aims for the lounge area and sits on the comfy sofa with Blaze on his lap. "Primus you scared the slag out of us with that message." The tank claims before moving Blaze onto a pile of pillows and letting him sink into them. He isn't sure if the mech wants anything in his current condition, but he does grab one of Blaze's favorite high-grade bottles and set it down on the counter section of the sofa.

"I can grab some cubes from the storage in the next room. You must be low." Brawl suggests as he watches the helicopter. Knowing he might not get an answer, he points behind himself with a thumb. "I won't be far; you can still see me from there. I got you, Blaze." The tank reassures before stepping into the other room, still visible to the other with his back turned.

Having no clue what was about to happen next.

[gaslightgirlsummer]

very funny to me that valentino basically established marc as this omnipotent devil incarnate boogeyman rider and that’s the version of him he presented to the academy boys and now they suffer from the consequences of his actions. valentino once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (likely place for him to be)

[paperfen]

You know how I said that Frost's legs were just metal like Foxy's? Yeah well, I took them. I took his fucking legs <3 I realized that if he's in a fortune teller box, he doesn't really NEED to have legs at all! And having him crawl rapidly towards you would be super freaky! :3 So just imagine this creature running towards you down a hallway to slam himself against your door.

[faragonart]

We interrupt this program to bring you...

Echo

[twistedisciple]

It's not until Griss has followed the rest away from the warmth of the campfire back out into the dark that the haze over his eyes ebbs away enough for him to notice the umber tint burning away the indigo along the horizon line. Like the coming dawn, clarity comes on slowly, and only as he picks his way around the rubble of the ruins in pursuit of their runaway prey that he realizes he's more sure-footed. And that one of the healers - Linhardt? - had given him something to expel the poison earlier by the fire. Whatever it was - whoever it was - had worked wonders, and though his body still protested as if he was dragging it through a week without sleep (an experience he knew well, having tested it himself for fun), he had better control over his faculties. For all the pain Griss revered, he had long ago learned to pay attention to the line that signaled imminent mortality, and so he'd been the picture of a perfect patient.

Although that was, of course, because he was barely conscious. Still, he had been so well-behaved.

Despite it though, his breath still comes out in ragged huffs, and he steadies himself against a shattered stone column. This is where they'd chased the straggling monsters, and it was fortuitous that none of them possessed the instinct to split up. Instead, they'd gathered here, of all places. Griss peers around the column, catching sight of a rider on a fearsome steed on what appeared to be some kind of perimeter patrol. Behind him, a cloaked figure knelt on the ground, tending to some kind of injury - theirs or something else, Griss can't quite tell in the dark. But it doesn't matter, really.

Starlight already sparks across his fingertips as he whirls around his hiding place.

Griss has 3 AP [1 AP] Griss 7/10HP hits and hits Hooded Rider with Aureola [Rolls: 3 + 4 = 7 & 7 + 4 = 11, -4HP - 0.5res = -3.5HP & -4HP - 0.5res = -3.5HP = -7HP; Hooded Rider 0/6HP] Griss loses 2HP to recoil [5/10HP] Hooded Rider is defeated Aureola durability 0/20 Half-formed Horror appears Shriek inflicts -4 avoid on all players for 3 AP

In two bright explosions of light, the hooded rider falls off his horse without scream or even a brandished weapon. One of those fleshy, featureless creatures scrambles over the body and shrieks, alerting the rest of the monsters in the area. The man in the mask leaps up from whatever it is he'd been doing, and the distant sound of wingbeats carries a massive bird skyward.

Pulling out the last two slips of holy paper, Griss throws one before monster or man can get close enough to do anything about it.

[1 AP] Griss 5/10HP critically hits Half-Formed Horror 6/6HP with Cleanse Tag [Roll: 5 + 4 = 9, -9HP - 0.5res = -8.5HP; Half-Formed Horror 0/6HP] Half-Formed Horror is defeated Masked Man takes -2HP from splash damage [0/6HP] Masked Man is defeated Cleanse Tag durability 1/15 Beastmaster appears

The shadow of a tall figure holding a whip in one hand emerges from the fading light like an afterimage. He reels back, readying to strike, but Griss dives forward with rasping laughter.

"Too slow!" he calls, and he almost sounds disappointed.

[1 AP] Griss 5/10HP hits Beastmaster 3.5/6HP with Cleanse Tag [Roll: 7 + 4 = 11, -4.5 - 0.5res = -4HP; Beastmaster 0/6HP] Beastmaster is defeated Cleanse Tag durability 0/15

The man with the whip crumbles to his knees in a fourth explosion of light. Overhead, the bird screeches. Out of options, Griss ducks back behind the column. The others in his party are nearby.

"Hey!" He whistles for the one with the bow. "You gonna shoot it down or keep standin' there with your thumb in your mouth?"

Next: @freliasarrow

let's gather round the campfire and || COMBAT Week 1 Team 1

[zarnzarn]

(check the tags for more and also the tag for other fics in the story!)

athena, scowling as she gets bullied into marrying the people she pined over for the last 1000 years, suddenly realising something: wait a minute

odysseus: what?

athena, frozen: wait a damn minute you know what this gives me rights to do

penelope, also realising: oh fuck yes

odysseus: I don't like the sound of whatever's happening here what are you two fucking talking about?

athena, grabbing the marriage wine and tossing it back, then kissing her new wife and husband and handing penelope a spear as she picks up a mace: we'll be back shortly, you can start celebrations without us.

penelope: do u have anything that can start a fire

athena, pulling out an old contract and scanning it before throwing it over her shoulder: yes. are you scared of heights or can we fly.

penelope: fucking bring it I've waited years for this moment

zeus: where are they going

hermes, picking up the contract: they're going to... Ogygia? Oh fucking shit they're going to fucking kill Calypso- hey, hello, WAIT-

[jaiscbstash]

[lambmotifz]

am i the only one who doesn’t like normal/regular wincest au

because all the supernatural storylines are the main factor that makes their dynamic so special. wincest without horror elements just. isn’t wincest

[morphemeta]

"Mhm, I'm sure I'll get plenty of sales when I've driven all my customers away with cheap scares," sighed Kaz. It wasn't that he was incapable of taking advice even when he'd asked for it but it was true that Kaz had always been the sort of person to have an opinion on everything. Perhaps, once upon a time, a long while ago, he'd still worried about this natural lack of filter and tried his best to keep his mouth shut but he'd eventually learned to stop caring altogether. Being opinionated had helped him secure his spot on the Council; the easier route to success may have been to suck up to the guys on top and wriggle his way into their ranks without a scrap of dignity but Kaz had opted instead to fight tooth and nail to get where he was.

"Not that I don't respect the angle," he said, with a shrug. "That'd certainly work as a publicity stunt but I'm trying to run a mostly respectable business here." Only mostly, because there was something inherently...well, not respectable about a store that dealt in paranormal supplies. Kaz could rant and rave about his deep love for the world of horror literature but it was a lost cause if nobody else saw the vision. Ah, thank goodness this was only something he did to fill the gaps when the Council wasn't keeping quite enough of his attention. (What a terrible busybody.) "In any case, good business is not built on truth. I respect your journalistic integrity, however."

A short laugh and a casual shrug. That was what these remarks about scary stuff inspired in Kaz. "You and I both," he said, as though this were something he had considered himself before many a time. Yet, as it must be said, Kaz was no more telling the truth in that regard than Ulysses. Any less of a spine and Kaz would have crumbled and collapsed long ago. A journalist may have his own secrets but there was certain knowledge to which only the Council had access, knowledge that could send the whole town into the frenzy if it were not well-guarded. (Not that Kaz cared a button for that; he kept these secrets to himself because it was convenient and he didn't want to lose his job.) "And what stories are you chasing these days? Forgive my nosiness, I just find it rather prudent to keep on top of what happens around town."

He wasn't offended. Honestly? It took so much for Ulysses to find offence these days, he himself wasn't sure the limitations could be reached. The only thing he became impatient and offended towards was when things were disguised, but for god's sake, this wasn't an interrogation. What he did have to work towards was not revealing that he was on the verge of a smile at the semantics and the dramatics of these semantics. Listen, he too was a wordsmith. Understanding the nature of the sentence, how syntax could affect significance. He peeled apart articles with the same kind of citrus-relish that Kaz peeled apart his own shop's display. But that was par for the course, being one's worst self-critic, and then scoffing at other's critique, even if those critiques mirrored what you, as the creator, were already thinking.

Maybe this mutual, kind of underlying understand, was what prevented Ulysses from diving into the irritable and impatient parts of himself. "Hey, I know the name! I don't wanna ruin the reputation. I'm just thinking of expanding the customers. I got no problem with the scary stuff. I just read the news. You draw 'em in with the kitsch, kinda cutesy candy corn lights, and then you can jumpscare them in the first aisle a full-on coffin display. Lure 'em, nab 'em." Ulysses punctuated with one snap of his fingers. If he owned a store, he would treat the shopping and retail in the same way that he deals with the newspaper articles. Snappy headliners, draw in the reader with something ridiculous, and then hit them where it hurts. "Might sound like clickbait, but not if you deliver on your truth in the end. Doesn't matter how you get there." This could be taken or left. Advice was free.

"Scary stuff got me into this job. I wish I had less of a spine." He didn't, actually. It might be easier to be more oblivious, but then it would be more shocking when the truth came out. He kept so much knowledge in his jean pockets for the rainy days. It was unbearable sometimes. That was his personal affront and curse, being looked at in that position of leadership. But who the hell else was going to do it?

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

(and now to counter the cuteness by asking for the horror side of pep but he is still friendly /hj)

(I don't know if this counters the cute, but here you go!

[buttercup-barf]

Had a dream about this game, and here's the closest I could get to replicating the title screen from it.

I vividly remember the game having one of those lineless pixel art styles with puppet/rig-based animation, but I tried doodling the designs in a style sorta closer to my own.

You play as an old lady, who's supposed to babysit a rich artist guy's... Daughter? Niece? Sister? And less than a minute after he leaves, she sprints towards you with the intent to kill you. You had to do a series of specific actions all over the house, while avoiding this girl, in order to survive, and then escape. I also vividly remember the game being 3,99 €, for some reason.

[leezuhh]

"beef" on netflix is so fucking good. i love a show about a small event that turns into something insane that nobody involved could have possibly predicted. also i like steven yeun. spoilers in tags

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Twelve: Written Scene #7: The Storm

Sorry for the long wait, my darlings, but it is finally here! This part got a little away from me, I will admit. But! I had a lot of fun writing it (even though it took me so long) and I hope that y'all have fun reading it <3 Thank you for being patient with me, and I hope this part makes up for the wait (at least a little)! Now, enjoy 8.7k words of everyone getting a little fucked up 😈

A storm raged around them, violently rocking the boat as the wind and the waves savegely tore at them. Somehow, Jason managed to drag himself above deck to join the rest of his friends (save Hazel, who was busy trying not to hurl her guts out). He swept his gaze across the ship, trying to account for everyone. Leo had lashed himself to the control console with a bungee harness of some kind, Annabeth and Piper were trying to save the rigging, and the gorilla that Jason assumed to be Frank was trying to untangle some broken oars. Even Festus the dragon head was trying to help, spouting flames at the rain, though it did nothing to discourage the storm. 

The only person who seemed to be having any luck at all was Percy. Which, yeah, made sense and all, but it was still mind-boggling and more than a little disconcerting to see Percy standing there in the middle of the deck, completely dry and unbothered by the raging squall while everyone else was barely hanging on. 

It was mesmerizing, almost, to watch Percy. He stood with his eyes closed and arms outstretched to either side, palms up. When a wave crashed into the hull, Percy would tilt his head and another wave would rise up on the opposite side of the boat to level them out. He’d curl his fingers as a large wave bore down on them and an even larger wave would grow to swallow it up and stop it from reaching the deck. He jerked his chin, and the rigging Piper and Annabeth were working on righted itself. He flicked his wrist, and the broken oars gorilla-Frank had been trying to detangle went flying. 

Jason had the sudden realization that if not for Percy, the Argo II would have been capsized or smashed to bits almost immediately. It was not looking good for them.

Jason staggered his way toward the center mast, praying that he wouldn’t get knocked off his feet before he got there. Leo saw him and shouted, probably telling him to get back in bed or something, but it was impossible to hear over the storm. He just waved. 

Thankfully, he managed to reach the mast without being sent overboard by the violent rocking of the ship. Percy opened his eyes and grinned at him as soon as he got close, almost like he had somehow known that Jason was there. It was a little creepy, but Jason couldn’t care less. 

Percy was the only one who didn’t start treating him like fragile glass after his injury. Percy treated him just as he always had, seemingly trusting him to know his own limits, and Jason was beyond thankful for it. It made him feel less like he was on death row. 

Jason smiled back at the son of Poseidon and then made a frantic grab for the mast when the ship gave a sudden, particularly violent lurch. Though, to his surprise, Jason found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move. The ship lurched again but Jason remained right where he was. He tried to take a step only to find it impossible to move his leg. 

His limbs felt leaden, and he realized he couldn’t move at all. It wasn’t just his legs that had locked up, but his arms and head too. Jason panicked. What the fuck was happening to him? 

But then, just as suddenly as it had happened, it was over; the ship rocked again and Jason stumbled forward, no longer frozen in place. He latched onto the center mast, panting as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

He glanced at Percy and found the other demigod watching him with concern, though there was something else in his expression that Jason couldn’t quite figure out. (He shrugged that off, though. Ever since he and Annabeth had come back from the Pit, it wasn’t unusual to find Percy with an unreadable expression on his face and some strange emotion swirling behind his far away gaze. It was always disconcerting to see his usually grinning face wear such a tumultuous expression when he thought no one was looking. Jason didn’t know if anyone else had noticed, but he’d been allowed little else to do besides watching his friends. Shit, if Jason hadn’t been injured and practically put on bedrest by his girlfriend and best friend, he doubted that he would have noticed anything going on with Percy either.) 

Jason waved off Percy’s concern with a thumbs up and a shaky grin. Percy seemed to take that to mean that he was fine and started gesturing. 

“—THING . . . UNDER . . . STOP IT!” he shouted, though half his words were lost to the wind as he pointed over the side of the boat. 

Jason cocked an eyebrow at him and gestured vaguely at his ears. I can’t hear you, he mouthed. 

Percy huffed and rolled his eyes. He pointed first to himself then to Jason, and then over the side of the ship again. He mimed diving into the water and pointed at the two of them again. 

Jason tried to convey ‘You want me to go with you? Are you sure?’ and ‘I can’t breathe underwater, dude’ with his expression. 

Percy rolled his eyes again and pointed at the storm clouds roiling above them, then took a running leap and dived overboard. 

Jason looked up to see Piper and Annabeth giving him matching ‘Are you crazy?’ looks, to which he just smiled and shrugged. He turned his attention to the storm and his eyes widened as he sensed angry venti swirling around up there. How the fuck had Percy known they were up there before he did? 

Whatever, that would be a question for another time. Right now, he needed to find a way to follow Percy. 

Jason stretched out his arm and imagined his will as a rope of wind, flinging it into the swirling mob of venti. He sought out the nastiest ventus he could find and snared it with his wind rope, tugging it down to form a cocoon around him as he jumped into the water. 

Immediately, he was surrounded by an eerie silence, his own breathing nearly deafening in comparison. It sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. 

He scanned the water around him through the filter of his personal cyclone. (Which, thankfully, allowed him to breathe. The air smelled strongly of ozone and the ventus was definitely not happy with the arrangement, but at least it was breathable air and Jason was strong enough to force the wind spirit to remain in place.) There was something about the ocean that had always set Jason on edge, more than the Roman’s hatred of it and his father’s rivalry with Neptune. 

It was similar enough to the sky, Jason supposed, in that they both stretched as far as the eye could see. But the sky had nothing to hide. Even full of clouds, nothing could remain obscured in the sky for long. The ocean, however, Jason shuddered. There was so much they didn’t know about it, more than just mythological beings and creatures evaded the notice of everyone who sought to know the oceans. So much was still unknown and unexplored, and the light only reached so little. 

Anything could be lurking in the depths of the oceans. Anything could be waiting just out of sight, hidden by the cloying darkness of deeper waters. 

In the sky, Jason felt secure, always aware of everything around him, cocooned in a blanket of wind and air. But underwater, Jason felt horribly exposed. His senses couldn’t expand into the area around him like they could in the sky, and he couldn’t sense let alone see all of his blind spots at all times. He was just out in the open, unprotected and unprepared; he would have no clue if something snuck up behind him, no time to react if something came hurtling out of the dark to attack him. 

Thalassophobia, Jason thought he’d heard it called before: the fear of large bodies of open water; although ‘fear’ didn’t feel like the right word, didn’t quite cover the absolute terror that gnawed on his bones. 

And here, floating in the middle of nowhere in the open ocean in his little personal tornado of lassoed air, a violent storm raging on the surface above him and who knows what waiting who knows how far below him. 

With nothing but dark, gloomy water surrounding him, Jason was terrified. 

But then, he spotted Percy. 

The son of Poseidon hung suspended in the dark water, illuminated only by the soft bronze glow of his sword. His long, inky black hair seemed to leach the light out of the water surrounding him as it floated around his head like a dark halo, dancing in some imperceptible current. His outline flickered, his form broken in places and replaced by dark, writhing masses of tentacles and stark, bony protrusions. He looked both unimaginably large, as ancient as the oceans themselves and just as monstrous, and like his skin was stretched too thin over bones that were too long with edges too sharp to be wholly human. He was dark and all-encompassing, filling the water with an inescapable presence, yet he was also pale and haunting, skin near translucent as it gave off an eerie glow. 

His body was threatening to rip apart at the seams, unable to contain the esoteric power lurking just beneath the surface. An arcane aura leaked from his ruptured mortal form, permeating the ocean around him and filling Jason’s mind with static. 

The eldritch creature playing at mortality turned its head to look at him and Jason realized that he had never felt true terror until that moment. Its face was that of nightmares; it had no lips, just thin, bloody ribbons of flesh stretched too far across a dark, gaping maw filled with rows and rows of razor-sharp serrated teeth. Its eyes were unsettlingly vivid, as though the saturation of the creature’s eyes had been dialed up to eleven, swirling blue-green voids that lacked sclera and pupils. Within those effervescent eyes, Jason swore he could see all the world’s oceans at once; raging storms and roaring waves, plunging trenches and abyssal depths dark enough to drive one mad. 

Its very presence emanated a dissonant, distorted screeching that Jason could feel vibrating through his bones, filling the surrounding water with static. Jason thought his eardrums might burst with the intensity of the high-pitched ringing and feared his insides might liquify from the infra- and ultrasonic frequencies he could feel quivering through his flesh and bones. 

Jason felt his mind begin to fracture as he stared at the being before him, pressure built behind his eyes and limbs seemed to have turned to jelly. He knew he needed to look away before his mortal body exploded or something, but he was powerless to make himself move, trapped in the vortex of its aura. He felt drawn to the creature, unable to bring himself to avert his gaze. He had no control over his body, locked in place by the deity’s whirlpool eyes. 

A scream built in his throat, but he had no breath with which to voice it. He teetered on the brink of madness, but he had nothing to grasp at to pull himself away from the edge. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him, but he couldn’t hear it over the static filling his head. He wanted to claw at his ears until it stopped and left him in blissful silence, he wanted to scratch out his eyes to relieve the pressure that had made a home behind them, he wanted to tear himself open to assure himself that the pounding in his chest was that of his still-beating heart and not some vestigial part of the monster looming before him. He needed to fill the yawning, cavernous void that had taken up residence in the place where his lungs should have been. 

His blood moved sluggishly through his veins where they burned beneath his skin. He was coming apart, his atoms threatening to fly apart, on the verge of disintegrating. He was nothing more than a tiny pest to this primordial of the seas, barely worth the effort it took this eldritch horror to kill him. His being was infinitesimal in comparison to this primeval monster, little more than a speck of dust floating through its waters. This was all the waters of the earth given form, and it was enraged at their treatment. And in that moment, he knew. 

He was going to die. 

Then, everything snapped back into place and Jason gasped. 

Air, sweet, ozone-scented air, filled his lungs and Jason could have cried. He clutched his chest and heaved frantic breaths into his aching lungs. He looked up and saw Percy hovering in front of him with a worried expression on his now normal-looking face. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he searched Percy’s face for any trace of the Lovecraftian nightmare that had been clawing its way out of his skin just moments before. 

“Jason, hey, are you alright, dude? You with me?” Percy said, though Jason had no idea how he could hear him so clearly under the water. He nodded slowly and ignored Percy’s puzzled look. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, man. Sorry, just not a fan of the open ocean I guess,” Jason said and tried to laugh it off. 

Percy’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intense and searching, boring into Jason’s soul as though he could pluck the truth from Jason’s psyche if he stared long enough. Thankfully, though, before Jason could buckle under the strength of Percy’s gaze, a beam of bright green light split the darkness in front of them like a spotlight before it disappeared, coming from the depths of the chasm Percy had been hovering over the edge of. 

Percy snapped his head around to stare over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. “I was waiting for you before going to check it out, but I’d bet that whatever is causing this storm, is also the source of that light,” he said, glancing back at Jason. “Come on, let’s go.” 

As they sank deeper and deeper into the chasm and fell further and further away from the sun, Jason couldn’t shake the horrifying vision from his mind or the sense of unease in his stomach. It grew darker and darker until the only light came from Percy’s sword. 

Though, if Jason looked too long at his friend, he could swear that Percy began to glow too; an eerie, pale blue light seemed to emanate from strange markings on his skin, as though he was bioluminescent or something. A handful of his scars shed golden light into the water as his eyes illuminated the way ahead of them like headlights. It was fucking creepy, Jason thought, if kinda fascinating. (He wondered if Percy knew that he glowed, if Annabeth knew. He wondered if Percy only became bioluminescent underwater, or if he would light up in a dark room, too. Despite his curiosity, though, Jason couldn’t bring himself to say anything to the other demigod, the image of the savage creature tenuously caged beneath his skin still too fresh on Jason’s mind.) 

Eventually, the water began to lighten around them, and Jason saw the glowing ruins of a palace or something appear out of the dark haze before them. As they drifted toward the remains of a partially collapsed dome, Jason stared around the ruins with wide-eyed amazement. 

“What do you think this place was?” Jason asked reverently, yearning to reach out and run his fingers along the crumbling structures but unwilling to risk breaching his ventus cocoon just yet to do so. “Atlantis?” 

Percy snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, Atlantis is just a myth.” 

Jason squinted at his friend. “Uh, don’t we literally deal with myths like, everyday? Aren’t we technically a myth ourselves?” 

Percy rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “You know what I mean, dude. Atlantis is a made-up myth, not, like, an actually true myth. Plus, Plato never intended anyone to believe in Atlantis, it was only ever meant to be a parable, to serve as an allegory to the hubris of nations and a cautionary tale warning against its dangers.” He shrugged. “All that flew over a lot of people’s heads though, and the original purpose of the Lost City of Atlantis was overshadowed by a bunch of idiots and their desire to find a place that was never real.” 

Jason gave Percy an incredulous, wide-eyed stare. 

“What?” Percy asked, defensive. “My mom is a published author, my stepdad is an English Lit teacher, and I’m dating Annabeth who loves ancient Greek philosophers and playwrights. I pick up a thing a two.” 

Jason often forgot that Percy was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for, and he was pretty sure that was something Percy did on purpose. It was something he’d noticed about the son of Poseidon before, but he played the part of ‘dorky fool’ so well that it was nearly impossible not to fall for the act. Though he was never sure if it was an act that Percy himself actually believed or not. 

But rather than bring that up right then, Jason just shrugged and held his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough, Jackson,” he laughed. “But if not Atlantis, then what was it?” 

“I don’t know,” Percy said, face scrunched up in concentration. “But it feels familiar, like I’ve been here before or something . . .” he trailed off, leaning in to study some markings carved into the domed roof in front of them. 

“Maybe you have,” Jason said playfully. “Maybe you saw it in one of your weird-ass dreams; I’ve been told that they’re a lot more intense and prophetic than the average demigod’s.” 

“Oh, shut up, Grace,” Percy snarked back. “My dreams suck ass, but they’re not anything special. Besides, I always remember my dreams. This is something else.” He reached up to ghost his fingers over one of the markings. 

Then, that brilliant green spotlight flashed directly beneath them, blinding Jason for a moment. 

He dropped like a stone until his feet hit what felt like solid marble. When he finally managed to blink the spots from his eyes, he realized that they’d found the source of the storm. 

An ethereal woman in a flowing green dress cinched at her waist with a belt of abalone shells hovered before them. She had to have been close to twenty feet tall, though she shrank to something closer to ten at their startled entrance. Her skin was a soft, luminous white, mirroring the fields of algae covering the underwater ruins. Her hair fell across her shoulders in gossamer strands reminiscent of jellyfish tentacles, some swaying as though caught in a gentle current. Her face was as haunting as it was beautiful; her eyes too bright, her features too delicate, and her smile too cold, as though she’d studied human behavior but hadn’t quite managed to master replicating it. 

Before her stood a tall, marble pedestal, atop which rested a large, mirrored disk. Her long, slender fingers danced along its edge before she sent it spinning, and the green light cut through the water again. The water churned, shaking the palace ruins. Shards of stone from the domed ceiling broke off and slowly sank down to settle on the marble floor. 

“You’re causing the storm,” Jason said, careful to keep the accusation from his voice. 

The woman laughed, a sharp, violent sound like the crashing of waves. “That I am,” she said. Her voice was melodious, though it had a strange resonance, one that reminded him of the horrible ringing sound the creature clawing its way free of Percy’s form had emanated, like it extended beyond the range humans had the ability to process. That same, static pressure built up behind Jason’s eyes and his sinuses threatened to explode. 

Percy, both thankfully and annoyingly, appeared unaffected. He just tilted his head and squinted at her. “I’ll bite,” he said, and Jason saw a flash of that dark, gaping maw full of razor-sharp fangs. “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?” 

A manic glee sparked in the woman’s eyes and her smile sharpened, sending an involuntary shiver down Jason’s spine. “Why, I am your sister, Percy Jackson. And I wanted the chance to meet you before you die.” 

Percy tilted his head and squinted at the goddess. Jason tried to resist the urge to reach up and massage his sinuses which still felt like they were about to explode. 

Percy hummed and crossed his arms. “Y’know, I’m not super well-versed in mythology involving Dad, so I’m not sure who all my godly siblings are, but . . .” he gave the goddess a long, considering look before he nodded. “I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say you’re Kymopoleia, goddess of violent sea storms if I remember correctly?” 

The goddess’s eyes widened slightly in shock. “Most have never heard of me, little brother. I am surprised, yet none-the-less pleased that you do know me.” 

Percy shrugged. “At some point after I accidentally blew up Mount St. Helens—” 

Jason choked on air and started coughing. “After you what?” he asked incredulously, but Percy and Kymopoleia ignored him and continued on as though he hadn’t said anything. 

“—I’m pretty sure I heard Dad mutter something under his breath like, ‘I pray you never meet Kymopoleia,’ and I got curious, so I looked into the name.” He shrugged again. “Oh, and I’m just gonna call you Kym. Kymopoleia is a bit of a struggle and also it takes too long.” 

Jason watched the interaction carefully. Percy spoke so casually to the goddess it kind of freaked Jason out. But he’d heard enough stories to know that it was common practice for the son of Poseidon to be so irreverent. 

For her part, Kym appeared amused rather than angry at least. 

“I’ll consider it an honor to get a Perseus Jackson nickname before you die,” she said with another spin of her disk. 

“I don’t suppose catching our ship in your massive storm was an accident, was it?” Percy asked with a resigned sigh. 

“No, no it was not,” she said. 

“And there’s no chance that you’ll cut it out if we ask nicely?” 

“Not a one. Though I am rather impressed that your ship has held together this long; excellent workmanship.” 

Sparks flew along Jason’s arms and into his ventus tornado. He thought about Piper and Leo, Annabeth and Frank and Hazel up there frantically fighting to survive the storm. He and Percy had left them defenseless up there. They had to end this and they had to end it soon. 

“My Lady,” Jason broke in before Percy could say anything to potentially aggravate the goddess, “Is there anything we can do to get you to change your mind and let us get on our way?” 

Kym turned her faintly glowing eyes to him and tilted her head. “Son of Jupiter,” she said dryly. “Do you know where we are? What this place once was?” 

“Uh,” he said, glancing at the crumbling structure around them. “These ruins? Uh, maybe it was a palace at some point?” 

Percy snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Dad’s new place in the Atlantic looks pretty similar to this. Last I was over there, it was almost done.” 

Jason gave Percy an incredulous look. He’d actually been to his father’s domain? To his palace? What the fuck was with this guy and the gods? 

Kym made a frustrated noise and crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t know,” she huffed. “I’m not allowed in our father’s court. He finds my presence disruptive,” she hissed, and gave her storm-disk a harsh spin. 

“I can’t imagine why.” Jason gave her a skeptical look as the ruins shook and more pieces fell slowly through the water around them. 

“I know!” she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I am an absolute delight to be around! I’m certainly better company than my total bore of a brother Triton,” she pouted and crossed her arms again. 

“Ugh, definitely!” Percy agreed. “I’ve met Triton and honestly, he’s such a pain in the ass!” 

Kym smiled. “Finally!” she said. “Someone who sees sense! He is such a πομπώδης μαλάκας!” 

Whatever that last thing meant, Jason had no idea as the Ancient Greek didn’t come to him, but he could only assume it was some kind of insult because Percy laughed. 

“Exactly! He never shuts up! He’s all ‘I am Father’s heir’ and ‘Father only likes you because you’re useful’ and it’s just like, ‘look, you absolute douche-nozzle, you’re both immortal! You’re not gonna inherit shit, ass-wipe,’ I mean, honestly!” Percy said, presumably mimicking Triton with comically furrowed brows and a fierce scowl, his chest puffed up and chin raised to look down his nose at an imaginary person. 

Kym burst into giggles (which reminded Jason of the clicks and whistles of dolphins). “Oh my—He sounds just like that!” she said, doubling over and clutching her stomach as she laughed. “Oh, that is just perfect,” she snickered. “I can see why Father hoped we might never meet, Perseus. You and I would have gotten along splendidly.” 

“Just Percy, please,” Percy said with a playful bow. “Only my enemies call me Perseus and I’d really prefer if I didn’t have to fight you.” 

Kym let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t want to fight you either, little brother,” she said. “Unfortunately, Gaea really wants your blood, and she’s made me a wonderful offer that I just couldn’t refuse.” she shrugged and flashed a shark-like smile. “Gaea will allow me to wreak whatever havoc I please once she has risen so long as I help her and her children destroy the gods.” 

Jason tensed as the water around them seemed to shudder, he saw Percy do the same. He pulled his gold coin from his pocket and flipped it to summon his sword. 

“Now, I believe there’s someone here who is just dying to see you again, Percy. I do hope you can forgive me.” Kym gave them a faux-apologetic look. 

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” a thunderous voice boomed, sending ripples through the water and making the ruins tremble. 

Percy’s face twisted into a dark, angry scowl. 

“Do you know who that is?” Jason asked, tightening his grip on his sword. 

“Polybotes,” Percy snarled. “The anti-Poseidon. I’ve already killed him once; I guess he really wants a rematch.” 

Just then, the Giant rounded a corner ahead of them and Jason barely stopped a disgusted noise from escaping him. He’d thought the other Giants he’d met had been ugly, but Polybotes might just take the cake. 

Even underwater, the guy managed to look greasy and oily, like he had never heard of a shower before. He was absolutely massive, towering close to thirty feet or more in height if Jason had to guess. Like all Giants, he had scaled reptilian legs. His hair hung like shriveled up seaweed around his face. His skin was a murky blue, like the color of poluted water. His eyes were sharp and cruel as a hungry smirk spread across his harsh, mottled face. When he shook his head, basilisks fell from his hair and began circling in the water, hissing and letting out little bursts of flame. 

“I hunted you through Tartarus, son of Poseidon, and you managed to escape me then, but there will be no escape for you now!” Polybotes laughed cruelly. 

Percy snorted and raised his sword. “I killed you before with only a river to lend me strength; what makes you think you stand a chance against me here in mY dOmAIn?” Percy snarled, lips curled up in an equally cruel grin. His voice reverberated through the water the same way that eerie ringing that emanated from that creature hiding beneath his skin had. It shuddered through Jason’s bones and the pressure that had finally begun to fade from his sinuses returned with a vengeance. 

Polybotes barked out a laugh. “HA! Whether you are stronger here or not, little demigod, you cannot kill me without the aid of a god. And there are no gods here willing to aid you, sea scum.” 

Percy’s grin turned sharp and deadly as his form seemed to ripple, the monstrous horror lurking within his flesh straining at the seams to get free. “WHaT maKeS YOu tHiNk I NEeD a gOd?” 

He lunged. 

A few of the basilisks hurled themselves at him, but Percy turned them to dust with one sweep of his sword. Polybotes swung his trident through the water and left an arc of some thick, oily looking substance in its wake. 

Percy barreled right through it without slowing down and the smug look on the Giant’s face turned to shock then indignance before settling on rage. 

“I will torture you under the sea! Each day the water will heal you, and each day you will suffer worse than the last! I will bring you to the brink of death and beyond the edge of mortal agony until you beg for me to kill you, until I have reduced you to nothing more than a quivering mass of flesh desperate to die.” Polybotes snarled. “But you will only know the relief of death when your blood is drained from your wretched body to awaken the Earth Mother. You will die with the knowledge that your last act has brought about the violent end of everyone you love.” 

By then, Percy was on top of the Giant, fighting like a man possessed. He growled low in his throat and swung his sword in a vicious arc, leaving a deep gash on the Giant’s leg when he was too slow to block the attack. 

Polybotes howled and swung his trident. It slammed into Percy’s chest and sent him hurtling through the water to crash through a wall. He recovered quickly enough and shot towards the Giant, spearing through the water faster than Jason could track. Sword met trident and when their weapons clashed it sent a shockwave through the water. 

Jason gripped his own sword tightly and prepared to jump into the fight to help his friend, but before he could do so, the remaining basilisks zeroed in on him. The poisonous, fire-breathing snakes circled around him, hissing and snapping at him. Anytime one of them got too close, Jason managed to cut off its head. But the serpents grew bolder, swimming closer and closer to him. They stopped attacking one at a time and tried to rush him. 

Jason closed his eyes, sent up a prayer that he wouldn’t fry Percy, himself, or Kym, and lifted his sword toward the sky. He called down brilliant arcs of lightning and let out a breath of relief as they struck the dozen basilisks swarming around him. The snakes went belly up in the water before crumbling to dust. 

Percy and Polybotes continued their death match. Percy seemed to be doing just fine, ruthlessly attacking the Giant, slicing and stabbing relentlessly; but Jason could see the smoke curling off his skin as it blistered and sizzled. Whatever substance had spread from the Giant’s trident, some sort of poison or acid if Jason had to guess, was affecting his friend. And despite Percy’s, frankly unnerving, claim, Jason knew he’d need a god to kill Polybotes and there was only one available to them at the moment. 

Jason turned to Kymopoleia. She was watching Percy and Polybotes fight with a fascinated look on her face, totally enraptured by the carnage her half-brother gleefully unleashed on Poseidon’s Bane. 

“Kym,” he said, “What if I make you a better offer than Gaea did?” 

The goddess hardly acknowledged him, merely letting out a noncommittal hum. 

“She promised that you could cause raging storms to your heart’s content, but Gaea and the Giants are going to kill every mortal and demigod, wipe them off the face of the earth. What good is it to finally be able to ravage coastlines and annihilate shorelines when there’s no one left to cower and tremble in fear of you?” he cajoled her. 

“I do like cowering,” she said absently, not tearing her eyes from where Percy had dropped his sword and begun to cave the Giant’s face in with his fists. Jason winced at the sharp, resounding crack of Percy breaking Polybotes’ nose. 

“Yes! If Gaea and the Giants win, no one will be left for you to terrorize! If you help us, I-I'll make sure you are worshiped! I’ll build you a temple at each camp and-and I’ll do the same for all the gods and goddesses pushed aside by the Olympians,” he said frantically, watching Polybotes slam Percy to the ground with one massive hand wrapped around his torso, no doubt crushing his ribs. He winced when Percy let out a strangled cry of pain and turned desperately back to Kymopoleia to try and gauge her emotions on his offer. 

“Polybotes, does Gaea have a counteroffer?” she called to the Giant, face impassive. 

Polybotes turned his head to give her an incredulous look. “Counteroffer?” he sputtered indignantly. “Mother Earth does not need to make a counteroffer to the inane ramblings of a puny half-blood! She is offering you unfettered control of the seas! You will be allowed to let your storms rage to your heart’s content!” he said, affronted. 

“Yes, but will there be demigods or mortals or really anyone left to cower in the face of my storms or worship me in hopes of appeasing my wrath? Will I get my own action figure?” Kym said evenly, raising an eyebrow and looking down to inspect her nails which Jason only just noticed were colored a pale, florescent pink. 

“Well, no, bu—” Polybotes started, only to cut himself off with a cry of pain when Percy managed to free himself from the Giant’s grip by maneuvering his pen out of his pocket and uncapping it so that the blade of his sword sprung out and impaled itself right through Polybotes’ palm. The Giant snatched his hand back to cradle against his chest and Percy lunged after him with a feral snarl. 

Percy moved so quickly, Jason was barely able to piece together what happened. The son of Poseidon reached out and it was like the water solidified into an extension of his will, yanking his sword from Polybotes’ hand and meeting it halfway. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and shot straight for the Giant’s face. He plunged the bronze blade down and buried it to the hilt in one of Polybotes’ acid green eyes. 

The Giant howled in pain and Percy yanked his sword free, quickly backing away as Polybotes reached up to clap his hands over his bleeding eye. 

“You will pay for that, half-blood sum!” he roared. 

Golden ichor wept from his numerous wounds, seeping steadily between his fingers from his damaged eye and the hole in his palm. It saturated the water, hovering in shimmering globules. The Giant stared Percy down with his one good eye, pure hatred simmering behind his gaze. 

“Please,” Jason pleaded with Kym. “Only a god and a demigod working together can kill a Giant. Please, help Percy finish him off before it’s too late!” 

Kymopoleia merely shook her head, lips spreading in a feral grin as that spark of manic glee glinted in her eyes again. She cackled, a sound like cracking stone being split apart by an enormous earthquake, and it sent a shiver down Jason’s spine. 

“I do believe my little brother would beg to differ, Jason Grace,” she said, tone carrying a hint of that unhinged, feral excitement he could see spread across her features. 

Jason whipped his head around to stare in horrified fascination as all the ichor in the water began to flow in one direction, condensing into one quivering golden orb. Ichor seemed to flow from Polybotes’ wounds faster than it should have, like it was being pulled from his veins in thick rivers of divine blood, drawn towards the glittering ball. Polybotes sank through the water, hitting the sandy floor with a dull thud as his knees gave out on him. His hands fell from his face, as though he no longer had the strength to hold them there. Jason could see as the color leeched from him, seeping away with the ichor as it fled his body. Polybotes seemed unable to move, frozen in place where he knelt. 

The temperature of the water dropped several degrees and Jason shivered. 

“Wh-what is this?” Polybotes bellowed, feigning outrage, but the undercurrent of fear in his voice gave away how scared he truly was. He stared at Percy, one good eye wide and afraid. 

Jason turned to his friend. At first, he thought it was just a reflection of all the ichor in the water. But then, Jason came to the terrifying realization; it wasn’t a mere reflection. Percy’s eyes glowed a vivid gold, the same color as the ichor he was draining from the Giant’s veins. 

His face was dark, his features standing out sharp and cruel as he appeared to loom over Polybotes. That monstrous, ancient nightmare slipped through the seams of Percy’s flesh, leeching away all light until all that was left was the eerie glow of Percy’s golden eyes. 

His teeth flashed in the dark, long and curved, reminding Jason of the Cheshire cat’s grin. Jason swore that he could see things moving in the dark; massive, undulating limbs and sharp, ghoulish protrusions. Bones that snapped and cracked as they moved, gnashing teeth and glowing eyes where they didn’t belong. 

“YOu sAy tHat yOu FOLlowEd mE THrouGh tARtArUs, aNd yEt YoU HAvE nO iDeA WHaT i lEaRNeD tO DO dOwN THerE, whAT I wAS fORcED tO PIcK uP IN oRdER tO sUrvIVe?” Percy barked out a cruel laugh as his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, sending tremors through the ocean floor. It was so deep, Jason could feel it vibrating through his bones and hollowing out his chest. Yet it was also so high, it sent his ears ringing and made his head feel like it was about to explode. 

Jason recalled the time he had been too slow to close his eyes and had, for just a moment, witnessed Juno’s true form. That had felt like he was on fire, like his skin was about to slough off his bones as his eyes melted out of his skull. It had felt like his cells were imploding and withering away into ash. 

But this— 

This felt like drowning on dry land; it was like he was being ripped apart from the inside out, his lungs had disappeared and the hollowness that had forced itself into the space where his heart should have beat was slowly filling with water. His mind was being pulled into a black hole, fraying at the edges and threatening to tear apart at the center. His eyes were being pushed from their sockets to make room for steadily mounting pressure building in his skull. He could feel water bubbling up his throat, choking him, forcing its way out between his lips and flooding into every empty space it could find. Water began to leak from his nose where it had filled his sinuses, began to stream from his empty eye sockets and gush from his busted eardrums. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, his voice lost to the torrent of water that eroded blood and bone until all that remained was a flimsy shell of decayed and rotting flesh. 

He swore he could hear a roaring, but that made no sense as he had to have gone deaf with the water pouring from his ears. Pressure built and built and built past the point of unbearable. 

There was a primal, agonized roar followed by an ear-splitting pop. And then: blissful silence. 

Calm swept over him like a warm breeze, and he felt like he was being wrapped in a silky blanket. He sighed and let himself sag into the gentle hands wrapping the blanket around him. He soaked in the quiet, peaceful moment languidly. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and immediately flailed around. 

Jason let out a rather undignified squawk and scrambled to pull away from Kymopoleia, who was looking down at him with an amused expression. The silky blanket he thought he’d been wrapped in was actually a gauzy, membranous shawl the goddess had pulled from her own shoulders and the gentle hands had been hers as well. He noticed with a start that his ventus shield had disappeared and slapped a hand over his mouth and nose as he instinctively gasped. 

Only when he heard Kym chuckle did he finally realize that he was, in fact, breathing and not drowning due to a bubble of air surrounding his head and neck like a diving helmet. 

He glanced to the side and saw Percy watching him with a worried frown, wringing his hands together. Jason returned his wide-eyed stare to the goddess and continued to gape for a moment. 

Eventually, Jason shook his head in an attempt to clear it and gulped, biting his lip as his gaze flit between Percy and Kym, both watching him quietly, one with concern and the other with bemusement. 

“Uh,” he said eloquently. “What, um, what happened?” 

Percy ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but before he could say anything, Kym spoke up. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, Pontifex. Polybotes is dead. And I have decided to accept your offer.” Kym looked down at him smugly and for a moment, Jason was confused. 

Offer? What offer? And—had she called him Pontifex? What was that abou— 

Oh. Right. He had offered to build shrines to all the minor deities and make sure they were all worshiped. (And—was he remembering right?—I also promised Kym an action figure, I think? What the fuck, Jason thought.) 

“Oh, uh, awesome. Thank you,” he said somewhat falteringly. 

“I expect a truly magnificent action figure, Jason Grace,” she said. “One of those articulated ones and it had better reflect my stunning beauty. I’d be happy to visit and model for reference.” Kym’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and Jason fought the urge to fidget. 

“O-of course,” he stuttered, and honestly, what the hell are you supposed to say to that? Cut him some slack, it’s a weird ass situation he has found himself in. 

“Wonderful,” Kym said, and turned to Percy, making Jason look at his friend too. 

Percy was wringing his hands nervously and biting his lip, gaze flitting around like he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. Jason frowned. He was about to ask Percy what was wrong when Kym spoke up again. 

“It was wonderful to meet you, little brother. I look forward to getting to know you better if you survive this war. I believe we could have much fun together.” She reached out and ruffled Percy’s hair with a laugh when he swatted her hand away. 

Percy gave Kym a small smile in return but still didn’t quite meet her eyes. He turned to Jason, expression tensing a little. 

“We should probably get back,” he said, gesturing vaguely upward. “Now that the storm’s stopped, before everyone starts worrying about us too much. If we’re not back soon, Annabeth will probably jump overboard to come looking for me.” he shrugged. He was still avoiding Jason’s gaze, and it looked like his skin was still smoking in places. 

Before Jason could say anything about that, Percy said, “Come on,” and shot toward the surface. 

He turned his startled gaze to Kymopoleia, wanting to ask her for more answers. She must have seen it in his eyes because she gave him a melancholic smile. 

“Percy is far more powerful than he likes to let on, Pontifex,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “He has more power than a demigod should, and I believe that he is finding it harder and harder to control. Both he and Polybotes mentioned him having walked through Tartarus. I imagine something happened down there to push him over the edge.” She glanced upward, tracking Percy’s receding form through the water for a moment before continuing. “My brother is an impossibly good person, Jason Grace.” she fixed him with an eerie, unwavering stare, her overly bright eyes flashing. “But there is something damaged in him, something that broke down in that Pit. He has crossed a line that he cannot come back from even if he wanted to. I’ve heard that his fatal flaw is loyalty, so you have no need to fear him, nor do any of your friends. But remain wary, son of Jupiter, else you get caught in the crossfire of his rage.” 

With that final, ominous warning, Kymopoleia disappeared in a whirl of bubbles and froth, leaving Jason to slowly begin the long swim back to the surface. When he finally reached the opening of the trench, he found Percy waiting for him, floating peacefully in the water. 

Jason swam up beside him and waited quietly for what Percy would say. 

After a moment, Percy twisted his head to face him. “Sorry for leaving you behind like that,” he said. “I forgot you didn’t have your personal tornado to help you keep up,” he joked half-heartedly and gave Jason a weak smile. 

“It’s alright,” Jason said, smiling back. “I wanted to say goodbye to Kym first, and you seemed like you really needed to get out of there.” 

Percy sighed. “Yeah, I did.” he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders, drawing in on himself slightly. “Speaking of Kym, what’s the deal with the action figure she mentioned? And why did she call you a car?” 

Jason snorted. “Not Pontiac, Pontifex. The Romans used to have someone called the Pontifex Maximus, a high priest who took care of the gods’ temples, made sure they were all recognized and worshiped, given proper offerings and things like that. While you were fighting Polybotes I made Kym an offer, to try and convince her to stop the storm and help you kill him. I promised to make sure temples were built for all the gods deemed ‘less important’ than the Olympians. The action figure idea just kinda happened? I don’t really know where it came from. I was kinda frantic, just saying whatever came to mind that I thought might sway her.” he shrugged. “You were holding your own just fine, but you looked to be in rough shape, too. Whatever that stuff Polybotes created that you swam through was, your skin was sizzling. You’re still smoking a little, too, by the way.” 

Percy glanced down at his arms, tilting his head at the new, quickly forming burn-like scars there. “Yeah, it was some kind of acid, I think. It hurt like a bitch, and definitely didn’t help my lungs any.” he shrugged and uncrossed his arms. “But I’ll be fine. The water’s already taken care of the worst of it; a little nectar or ambrosia and I’ll be all healed with a few more scars to add to the collection.” 

Percy rolled his shoulders and straightened, glancing up where Jason could see the shadow of the Argo II floating in the water above them. “Now come on,” Percy said. “I think Piper and Annabeth are getting ready to jump overboard.” 

Jason laughed, letting the topic change slide. If Percy didn’t want to talk about what had really happened with Polybotes, Jason wouldn’t force it. He just hoped Percy knew that he could come to him. Their fathers may have a rivalry to end all rivalries, but he didn’t want that for him and Percy. 

This time, as they rose through the water, Percy propelled Jason up alongside him. As soon as their heads broke the surface, Jason saw Annabeth getting ready to swing herself over the railing and drop into the water with Piper barely half a step behind her. 

“Percy!” Annabeth called when she spotted them, proceeding to dive off the ship. Jason raised his arms to shield his face as she hit the water with a truly impressive splash. Percy just laughed and swept her into his arms, lifting her half out of the water and spinning around. Annabeth laughed in delight as Percy threw himself backwards and they sank just under the surface. 

Jason wasn’t worried, though, having learned about Percy’s little air bubble trick, and instead began to paddle his way towards the rope ladder Piper had tossed over the side of the ship. 

When he finally swung up and over the railing, planting his feet on the blessedly solid deck of the Argo II, Piper threw herself at him, muttering angrily in Tsalagi, no doubt cursing at him for acting like an idiot. Jason just smiled and hugged her close, pressing his lips to her dark hair when she buried her face in his chest. 

After a moment, she pulled away and wiped angrily at the tears in her eyes, glaring at him. 

“What is wrong with you?” she cried, smacking his shoulder. “You can’t do that to me! You can’t just-just jump overboard in the middle of a massive storm like that! Especially not when you’re severely injured—!” she gestured at his stomach, frustration and fear coloring her tone. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Pipes,” he said, interrupting her gently. “But Percy needed my help, and I’m fine, I promise. No further harm done. See?” He lifted his shirt, stepped back, and spun around, letting her look him over for any sign of hurt. Honestly, he felt fine; great even! Hell, he felt better than he had since Michael Varus had run him through. 

When he finished his little one-eighty, he noticed Piper staring at his stomach with wide eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing down to try and figure out what she was seeing. 

His bandages had come loose in the water, sagging a little to reveal the upper edge of his wound, only . . . only there was nothing but smooth, tan skin where there should have been torn and reddened flesh. His mouth dropped open and he carefully tugged the bandages away, letting them fall to the deck of the ship after the soggy material tore. 

Both he and Piper stared in wide-eyed shock at his unblemished abdomen for a moment. Piper reached out to ghost her fingers along the spot where the wound had been, her feather-light touch sending a shiver down Jason’s spine. 

“You’re healed,” she whispered, voice filled with awe. “How are you—what happened down there?” she asked, laying her hand flat against his stomach for a moment before looking up at him with those dark, earnest eyes he loved to get lost in. 

“A lot,” he said. “Though I don’t remember much of what happened towards the end.” 

Piper nodded slowly and grabbed his hand, starting to pull him across the deck towards the stairs. 

“Fill me in once we’re downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m getting you to eat something.” 

Jason laughed brightly and allowed his girlfriend to tug him towards the galley, more than happy to let her fuss over him. 

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that hadn’t left him since he came to wrapped in Kymopoleia’s shawl, and the dread weighing heavy at his heart that it had something to do with Percy and what had really happened to Polybotes. 

[tetrachromate]

not enough people are talking about how anthology of the killer ends with bb and zz achieving (or at least attempting to achieve) gnosis