#{ ‘’ never looked back never feared never cried ‘’ | piper }

[apollosfavkiddo]

⛧° you promised you’d come back

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace x pluto!fem!reader blurb

warnings: angst, not a happy ending, interrupted friends to lovers, death of character, really short.

a/n: i know, i know, i have to post the leo fic first. whatever?? i wrote this late night in the hospital in my phone and i cried, so you’re gonna read it and cry too. this one doesn’t even have wc or song cause i literally left it just like i wrote. shits really short. good luck 🫡

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

You didn’t have any news on how the damn quest was going.

No Iris message. No letter. Absolutely no indication that your best friend was still alive. lt was a mix of emotions together, but especially fear.

Fear that maybe he wasn’t alive anymore. Maybe he had finally succumbed to one of those damned quests that your parents put you through, because somehow, they can’t do it on their owns.

But you had to cling to the small light of hope that was alive and that he was okay. After all, he promised you he’d come back.

“Of course i’ll come back, y/n/n. I always do.”

And maybe when you do came back, you thought, i’m finally be able to tell you how much i love you.

But all that hope was completely and totally crushed down the moment that Nico came to your apartment, along with Lester, Meg and Piper.

All of them had a dark and intense gaze, but especially Nico.

You obviously knew about the growing friendship that Jason had with the younger boy. Gods, Jason even talked about him like an older brother talks about his baby sibling.

And that’s when you knew. That’s when it hit you, that’s you’d never see Jason again.

“Y/n… can i come in?” Nico asked, his voice cracked. He instantly cleared his throat and stand up straight, swallowing a lump. “I mean- we. Can we come in?”

You just nodded, the tears already welling up in your eyes.

“Hm… Im really sorry to say this, Y/n, but… Jason didn’t make it. Caligula, he-“ Apollo - Jason’s half brother, cause nothing could be better - said, but you interrupted him with a raise of your hand.

“It’s okay. You didn’t have to come all the way here to talk to me about this. You have a quest to continue, i get it. You can go now.” You said, your voice trying to sound firm and certain.

“Y/n, are you-“ Piper said, reaching out a hand to you.

“Yes.” You said, taking a step back away from her. You and Piper never had the best relationship, and you just thought that she was the last person you’d want around in a moment like this - the girl who first killed Jason. “I’m fine. Really.”

You tried to sound reassuring, but Nico quickly caught in your facade. He cleared his throat again and looked back at the trio behind him. “It’s fine.” He said, and they finally backed off.

Meg was the only one who didn’t. She achtualmy took a step forward and pulled you in to a hug. She was a few inches shorter than you, so it was hard for her, but the hug was very appreciated. You quickly reciprocated, and she finally pulled away. She had puffy eyes and a pout on her lips.

“I’m sorry about him. I know you were close.” She said in a whisper, only to both of you hear, and you smiled. She was sweet. You nodded and whispered back a small ‘thank you’. And then, they finally left.

When you closed the door, you immediately broke into sobs. Your brother was quick to cradle you into his arms, and you just sobbed.

Not that far after, you felt his body also shaking. You didn’t think you ever saw Nico cry, but this was understandable, at least. He was his best friend. He was the best friend to both of you.

“W-why, Nico? It’s- it’s not fair! He’s- he was too young, he-“ You groaned as you sobbed into Nico’s old jacked, damping it completely. Bit you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not when that happened.

He nodded, caressing your back.

He was gone. Jason was gone. Your Jason. Your best friend. The man you were in love with. The person that you grew to admire, looking up to how kind, generous and intelligent he was.

Your favorite person. Your soulmate.

In the end, all that’s left is a broken promise, a crossed heart and a shattered soul.

#all my love 🍀 #postcards from leah #jason grace #jason grace angst #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo

[via-rant]

When Leo looked forward he felt his heart jump in fear. Trash bag. It wasn't trash day. When he ran over he found it had his name written in big letters, all upper cased. Immediately his mood was ruined.

He felt his chest become heavy as his heart broke.

"What's wrong? What is that?" Piper asked catching up with him. He took a breath and stood up.

"They're kicking me out." He said and she put a hand over her mouth. He clenched his fists. He wanted to bang on their door and demand what he did wrong. He wanted to beg on his knees and ask them to give him another chance. But it would be pointless. He knows why they're doing it. They just wanted the money.

He took a deep breath and wiped his tears. He put the bag over his shoulder and started walking.

"Where are you going?" Leo stopped and looked around.

"Somewhere my social worker won't find me."

"You can come to my house. He won't find you there right?" Leo immediately ran to hug her. She hugged back as he dug his face into her shoulder.

She felt awful for him. She knows about the times he's run away, why he did it. She knows how awful they can be. This one seemed so much better. She's never seen him so happy than with these people. Only for it to be ruined by selfishness. Only for everything to crumble in a second because they could care less about him and more about what he comes with.

Which is why he broke down completely as soon as they got to Pipers room. He's cried in her arms before but usually it was silent tears and ended fast. This was different. This time it was full of heartbroken sobs he's been holding in for years because he hasn't had someone like Piper at all. Piper held him throughout the whole thing.

"I thought they loved me. Why do they always pretend they love me?" She held him tighter and kissed his head of hair. She had an answer but didn't wanna make him feel worse.

Because they're selfish. Because they're cruel. Because they like breaking kids hearts. Yeah that wouldn't help him feel better. He fell asleep right there as she rubbed his back.

"I'm here. I'll always be here."

#leo valdez #piper mclean #hoo #heroes of olympus #heros of olympus

[starlightshadowsworld]

SON except we follow on from this THL post.

This is a mess... But here we are.

Unfortunately as things usually are, not everyone can go with Jason.

Hera brings up the Argo that Leo had found and Leo remembers that lot of work needs to be done for it.

So they split up.

Jason, Percy and Piper, will head to Camp Jupiter and Annabeth and Leo will stay to work on the Argo with the rest of the Hepheastus cabin.

And as much as Annabeth and Percy hate to be seperated they know that she's better suited to help with the Argo II.

And Piper, with her charmspeak to get them out if things go south.

Thalia just flat out refused to leave Jason.

So our group goes to go do, diplomacy(?).

What could go wrong?

Shocking....Literally no one, things goes wrong.

They still have Juno being carried by Percy, his immunity being washed off.

Jason tries to help but... Juno said nope.

Luckily she leaves them to go and get to the camp and will reappear convienetly later.

Thalia puts together a camp and fire for them to get through the night.

The group pass the time talking.

Piper talks about training with Clarisse, feeling she has to constantly prove herself.

As well as the story of the BMW.

Thalia bants back and forth with Percy and asks about Jason's upbringing.

Jason, gives them all the run down.

... Suffice to say hearing your brother was raised by wolves who would threaten to kill him if he dared show fear and than put in an army... Makes Thalia a bit mad.

... Okay very mad.

Just hugs Jason close and his touch starved little heart melts.

Jason admits he's nervous, that he never quite felt at peace until he was in Camp Half-blood.

Piper is appalled, and Percy... a survivor of military schooling is a teeny...

Tweeny bit absolutely pissed at the idea of kids being in an army.

"... Okay I know we also do that but at least we're more subtle about it..."

He gets mad when he hears about the town like area of New Rome, demigods living peacefully and living their lives.

Wishing Camp Half-blood had the same.

... Though than gets more mad bout the idea of adults nearby doing jack shit while the kids are in the army.

Percy does however swears to Jason than nothing he sees or witnesses will change his opinion of Jason.

A sentiment that Thalia and Piper echo.

They are friends, nothing can change that.

Jason, stumbles out a thank you and maybe cries a little because it's the first time he's had real friends.

He does get a bit embarrassed about it.

Percy just smiles, gives him a hug and tells him crying doesn't make him any less strong.

First time Jason's ever been told that.

Percy tells him a story about how he cried the first time watching finding Nemo.

Leading to a way to in depth explanation about finding Nemo, another hug and a promise to show him when all this is over.

When the time comes, Percy carries Juno though he makes it clear he isn't happy about it.

Thalia even refrains from teasing him about it, having to stop herself from cursing out Juno for putting Jason with these people.

After she admits it was her.

Walking into Camp Jupiter's boundaries the assembled Romans bow before Juno.

And with reluctance, the others bow as well.

"Praetor Grace! Praetor Grace you have returned!"

The assembled Romans salute him abd Jason salutes back with a smile.

Someone runs off and returns with Reyna and Octavian.

"Praetor Ramirez-Arellano and Augur Longinus."

Jason runs to them and embraces them. The two lose all lose all manner of professionalism and hug him back.

With Reyna overjoyed he's returned and Octavian shocked before smiling warmly.

The two bow before Juno who introduces the others as Percy Jackson son of Neptune, Piper Mclean daughter of Venus and Thalia Grace daughter of Jupiter.

A banquet is proposed by Reyna, for Jason's return and to celebrate that he's finally found his missing sister.

Thalia smiles warmly, hugging Jason and says she's been looking forward to meeting them both.

Which is before the entire 5th Cohort comes running in, some tackle Jason into a hug, others are cheering and they all throw him up into the air.

Reyna explains that while Jason was raised at Camp Jupiter, the 5th was his first and true home.

Jason is about to go with the 5th to catch up but doesn't want to leave his friends behind.

Said friends smile and wave him off, telling him to go have fun and Jason happily runs off with the others.

Reyna offers to show them around and Octavian mentions needing to go to consult the augeries about the new comers.

Percy sensing somethings off asks if he should go with him and Octavian agrees.

Reyna gets to know Piper and Thalia, the three trade stories of growing up, learning about Camp and at some point have a sparr.

With Reyna complimenting them both.

Piper is suprised to learn that her skills aren't seen as a suprise here unlike at Camp Half-blood. Nor is her parentage used to make her feel weak.

Being that the founder of Rome, Aneias was the son of Venus. And thus she is held in high regard here.

Giving Piper confidence.

Octavian explains the teddies, that his namesake used actual people but this was a better solution to him.

He does thank the little guys for their service and sews them up though which Percy reckons can't make him all bad.

But he has a feeling.

And that feeling has gotten him this far so he stays on guard.

The group all reunite at the banquet, Jason joining them sitting beside Thalia and Reyna happily talking about his day.

Also Nico is there and introductions and... I definitely don't know you looks are given.

Percy ends up near Frank and Hazel and makes introductions. While shy at first they both manage to open up though Percy notices that Hazel keeps shooting looks at Octavian.

Some point later Mars shows up and Percy feels a very murderous urge but luckily his attention isn't on him.

Frank is issued a quest and a prophecy is given by Mars. Though Octavian seems annoyed by this, because he's supposed to give the prophecies but doesn't say anything.

Percy, feeling bad for Frank offers to go with him and Hazel and the trio set off.

Before he does so, he shares with Thalia and Piper his suspicions on Octavian and the two promise to keep an eye on him.

The quest plays out as canon.

Switching back and fourth between it and Camp Jupiter.

Hazel after revealing her curse explains that it's what Octavian had black mailed her on.

So that she would vote for him to be Praetor.

Percy, seeing vote as kill has them all rush back.

Meanwhile, Thalia and Piper along with Nico realise Octavian is up to something and that more and more campers are getting distant and distrustful with Jason.

Confusing Reyna and them.

And deeply hurting Jason.

Piper is able to corner and charmspeak them into telling her that it's because Octavian's black mailing everyone.

And that he's had visions of Jason is conspiring with the Greeks to overthrow Rome.

They than find Jason's missing and find him on the ground with Octavian over him.

Octavian wearing a Praetor's attire.

Just as Percy, Hazel and Frank show up.

And it's revealed Octavian has been trying to get rid of Jason to become Praetor.

He always wanted to be Praetor and saw Jason as unworthy of such a title.

Believing he earned it simply because of his parentage and not earning it at all.

But why he wanted to get rid of him rather than merely voting him out is because Octavian had a vision.

Of the Camp in flames and Jason hugging the person responsible.

And siding with the Greeks over the Romans.

"He's a traitor"

Reyna glares, stating the only traitor is him and Jason is heartbroken.

Having never wanted the title but was pushed into it.

We also learn now why Jason was running in the lost hero, it was because a hoard of monsters were released by Octavian into the Camps collisium that Jason had been trapped in.

Jason managed to escape but was persued, his coin was in Octavian's grasp and because of the Doors being open the monsters would not die.

Something Jason had only recalled now.

It chased him for days.

What he said to Percy before blacking out was "please! Help! Don't trust Octavian."

In Latin.

It had taken the last of his strength to tear them apart and Juno's last minute divine intervention to kill them off.

And he'd only now recalled what had happened.

Before anyone can do anything, a dagger flys through the air pinning Octavian's stolen Praetor sash to a pillar.

And we see Annabeth aboard the now repaired and airborne Argo II.

Heard everything and pissed.

"Try that again and this time I won't miss."

"Who are you?!"

"Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena."

The Greek camp is revealed, along with the true parentages of the others and Reyna rubs her head and sighs.

"Anything else?"

Octavian uses this as fuel to encourage the Romans to arms and to destroy the Greeks.

Reyna, shuts it all down stating that they will handle this diplomatically.

Jason is standing motionless as Thalia holds him, his eyes empty as his truest and closest confident berates and calls him a traitor.

Percy hates that he was right and the group head into the senate to talk and discuss why they did all this and the looming threat of Gaea.

And Jason feeling more alone than ever despite sitting by Thalia.

.

Also Octavian's last name in this, Longinus comes from Cassius.

Gaius Cassius Longinus, the guy best known from the Shakespeare play Julius Caeser for being one of the conspirators who lead to Casers assassination.

Felt fitting.

#son of neptune #Octavian Reyna and Jason were friends #But much like another blonde haired wack job #Shit happened #Annabeth is Jason's second big sis I don't make the rules #jason grace #heroes of olympus #piper mclean #annabeth chase #thalia grace #percy jackson #octavian pjo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #frank zhang #hazel levesque

[a-really-mediocre-writer]

angel of small death - prelude

Welcome to my Daryl Dixon slow burn fan fiction, I hope you enjoy!

Summary for entire work: Piper, a 19 year old girl, alongside her 16 year old sister, Dina, are thrust into a dead-infested wasteland of the world they once knew. Having had a difficult home life before turn, will this new world be a sweet release?

[this is just the prelude to meet the OCs at the beginning of the apocalypse, you do not need to read this if you want to get straight to the story!]

<< P R E L U D E >>

My relationship with my mother had been a complicated one my entire life, but that didn’t make saying goodbye any less heartbreaking. About a day ago she had been bitten by some homeless man in a sort of drug-induced mania- usually this would not be as big of a deal as it is now, however with the strange “Wildfire” virus going around, we thought it would be best to go to the ER to get it checked after about 2 hours as she started to suffer the dreaded fever- a telltale sign of this mysterious plague.

Sitting next to my mom in this chemical scented room made me reflect on life with her; a life with a blended mixture of extremes of enjoyment at one moment, but also the emotional turmoil that comes with having a vain and abusive parent. Although most of the time that I received physical beatings was from a slew of her ex-boyfriends including my own father, the abuse that damaged me the most was her emotional insensitivity- to her I was not to be admired as an ever-blooming piece of her, but rather as a rival garden that needed to be conquered and put in her place with as many chemicals and weeds as possible. I was not a child, never to her and therefore never to anyone, classically “mature for my age” from the moment I was born. I had to grow up fast to protect my sister, Adina.

The goodbye was not intended to be the final one when we had arrived, however when we heard the gunshots begin to echo throughout the hospital hallways we stared each other in the eyes like deer in headlights.

“Go. Before they stop you- Go get Dina. Be Safe. I love you both.”

I froze.

Then I cried. Hard. Slobbering over my mother’s chest as I embraced her. She loves me.

“I have to get you out of here- I can’t leave you here like this!” I frantically shout over the gunfire growing closer by the minute, grasping my mother’s arms trying to get her out of the hospital bed. She stops me, holding my hand and squeezing it tightly, “You need to go, Piper. I love you so much. Go- It’s okay- Just don’t get caught- Go!” shouting the last bit at me I nod quickly and begin to turn towards the door when just then the handle turns and clicks. My eyes go wide as I lunge to hide behind the door as it opens, holding a hand over my mouth to mask my heavy breathing as the soldier in the riot gear inspects my mother, and once he sees the bite mark on her forearm and her pale, sweat soaked sickly skin he shoots without hesitation.

One shot in her brain.

I jump and clasp my hand tighter over my mouth, fearful of what might happen to me if he realises that I am cowering behind the door. My crying however was not as quiet as I thought, as the man turns around to face me and aims his rifle at my face.

“Hands up!”

I oblige, moving both of my now quivering hands away from my face, hyperventilating.

“Please! Please don’t shoot- I’m n-not bit- I just wanted to say g-goodbye to my mom-“

The soldier stares me down and looks me over, not moving his gun out of my face or saying a word. We make eye contact for a few seconds before he silently lowers his gun, looking between me and my mother guiltily and then he leaves without saying a word, jogging down the hallway to the others.

I glance back over to my mother’s now deceased body and flinch as she comes into my eye line. It all happened so fast; it hasn’t settled in my mind that she was murdered in front of me. I grab a white bed sheet and drape it over her lifeless body.

“Goodnight, Mom. I love you.”

Leaving the room and gently closing the door, I glance down the hallway towards the exit and after scanning for danger I make a beeline for the stairwell. As I turn a corner in this desolate maze, I lock eyes with a police officer, barricading a hospital room door with a gurney. For the second time today, I have another gun pulled in my face.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? Everyone was evacuated!”

I put my hands up “They…They killed my mom- I need to go- I need to get my sister!” I shout down the hall as I slowly begin to lower my hands as he lowers his gun. Once we nod at each other that we aren’t going to hurt one another I bolt out of the hospital and into my car in the parking lot. Wasting no time, I speed down the roads to get home and hopefully find my sister alive and well, watching as fully loaded cars of families are packed up and driving in the opposite direction of me and out of town.

As I pull up to the house my sister runs out to greet me with a hug, which is only short lived as we both head inside to pack up things to bring with us to evacuate. I go to my room and grab a backpack, filling it with clothes, hygiene items like deodorant and sunscreen, a mini photo album, some other random bits and pieces, my converse and two books. I grab my granddads over-sized leather jacket, the one given to me when he passed, and put it on, then grab another bag and head to the kitchen to start clearing out the cupboards full of canned goods. As I continue scraping through the cupboards for any food we can take, I holler out to my sister,

“Dina! We gotta go- you got your shit?”

“I’m coming!” She shouts back as she emerges into the kitchen, backpack fastened to her back and ready.

We load our things into the car as Adina asks me about mom. If she is okay. I just freeze and glance up at her briefly, telling her through my eyes that it was in fact not okay. She goes quiet herself and we continue to load up the car with old camping gear and food in silence. Then we hear a car pulling up the driveway. Shit. It’s our mom’s latest boyfriend, and he does not look happy that we are filling up my mom’s car.

“Hey! Whaddaya think yall doin’? Best not have cleared out them cabinets, girl- half that shit’s mine!” He yells as he approaches us aggressively. We continue to pack the car but only faster, getting into the front and slamming the doors behind us. Backing up off the drive and scratching his car as we peel off down the road with me shouting “Fuck you” and flipping the bird out the window, he is now shouting and trying to chase the car only to give up after we turn the corner. We look between each other concerned and we stay silent until we hit the traffic on the highway.

“Shit.” I mutter to myself as I turn off the car engine, “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Silence.

“…Piper? What happened to mom…?”

I avoid her gaze and stare into my lap uncomfortably, “She’s gone.” I say quietly.

Silence.

After a while of the uncomfortably heavy silence, something catches my eye from a few cars behind us.

The man I saw in the hospital.

“Stay here a sec…” I say as I get out of the car and shut the door, making my way over towards the police officer and his family.

“Hey…did I see you earlier?” He turns around at the sound of my voice and is visibly surprised to see me.

“Yeah, you saw me…” He states and sombrely reflects on the events from earlier on in the day.

“I uhm, never introduced myself earlier- I’m Piper, my sister in that car back there is Adina. Thank you for not uhm, you know, firing at me…” I gulp and nervously introduce myself to the muscular man as he takes a step closer to me. “Not a problem darlin’, ‘m Shane. Officer Shane Walsh,” he sticks his hand out for me to shake, which I do, and his hand lingers on mine as he looks me up and down, before gesturing over his shoulder to the people near the car next to his, “That’s Lori and her son, Carl…his dad, my best friend, was the one I was visitin’ today…He passed.” Hearing this I squeeze his hand apologetically, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” His attention is pulled back to me as he scans my face, “Me too, sorry ‘bout your mom.” We both give each other the same devastated look before I speak up again.

“I’d better get goin’ back to my sister, but we’re only a few cars ahead of you if you need anything.”

“Will do, darlin’.”

---

A/N: AAAAHHHHH i havent written properly in so long i hope you guys enjoy it, chapter one will be uploaded today as well <3

also i wasnt sure what to title the general story but was listening the the hoizer song "angel of small death and codeine scene" and thought that would be cool LMAO

#twd fanfic #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd daryl #rick grimes #shane walsh #twd imagine #twd x oc #twd season 1 #slow burn #ftwd

[socksracoon10]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2

July 18th, 1886

Dearest Diane,  

My sorrow has bewitched my luck, it is slowly running out. Though Lucas has found himself a worthy tutor and I, a humble maid, there is still this... this heavy burden that is constantly gnawing at my heart’s tender regions. My mind has confirmed my fear that Robert shall never return and my heart grasps onto tiny fragments of hope while my soul remains restless, fighting between the two. There is still much left for me to do, but as I only have 1 pair of eyes, arms and legs, I’m quite frightened that the task of caring for my son will ultimately result in my death.

Forever yours, Priscilla C.

When the sun’s rays softly shone through the many houses of Southlyn, it was disappointed to find them empty. Abandoned and destitute lay the beds with the cotton blankets spread in a disorganized manner, as if everyone suddenly left themselves to attend to something far more important. The sun moved over a few more inches to get a better look into the town and there the civilians were, lined up eagerly outside the Piper household. Aside from the whispered gossip or the occasional frown on another’s face, the only thing that remained constant was the absolute despair that Mrs. Piper was experiencing. Mr. Hempfield, the local bobby, had marched into the house; he had a firm hand clasped around his nose and he pulled his hat closer to his eyes when he entered Harley’s room. From downstairs, the family only heard the shocked cries from the grown man as Mrs. Piper flinched.  

From down the street, the commotion had created a stir within Mr. Piper’s coach. The old gentleman had grown tired of having to endure the long journey and on top of all that, the driver had informed him that the road was blocked.  

“Absolutely preposterous!” The gentleman cried out, scurrying out of the coach to grab his belongings.

From the porch of the house, sat Harley Piper with rage pumping through his blood. His father wasn’t even home yet and the whole town was mocking them, calling them murderers in hushed tones. The cry of a man along with the neighing of horses caught the attention of the citizens who snapped their necks to see the commotion and their ill wishes only heightened after realizing it was Mr. Piper. The man was covered from head to toe in rainwater; he sputtered a good morning and dragged his luggage through the crowd with raised eyebrows.

“Has your cooking finally killed someone?” Mr. Piper laughed, staring at his wife. No response came and he grunted before looking around him. “What’s the problem here? What’s going on?” He inquired, and Harley couldn’t help but pity his father. The poor man had just come from a business trip, and he didn’t even know the horror the family was suffering. The front door swung open with Mr. Hempfield and Edward exiting cautiously, their hands fidgeting uncomfortably. Mr. Piper frowned, his bushy brows furrowing as his eyes traveled from the young man to the bobby and back to the young man.

“Good god, what have I missed?” Mr. Piper trembled, the luggage dropping onto the grass. Mr. Hempfield sniffed, stomping down the porch stairs with his hands flying to the handcuffs.  

“Mr. Piper, you will be placed under arrest for being a suspect in the gruesome murder of an unidentified body.”  

Mrs. Piper wailed at the accusation and her hands flew to her face, covering the streams of her tears that flooded out of her eyes. Harley shot up from his seat in shock,

“Mr. Hempfield, what evidence was even there that brought you to such an act?” Harley demanded, approaching his father’s side.  

“You’ve told me he was on a business trip, but aside from your word we have no further evidence that he really went on such a trip!” The bobby replied and Edward cried out in exasperation,

“This is a bloody joke, isn’t it? Mr. Hempfield, I assure you that it’s impossible for Mr. Piper to be the culprit behind this, I suggest we return to the room and find proper evidence-”

“Just because you’re attending that school gives you no right to question my methods,” Mr. Hempfield barked, attaching Mr. Piper to the handcuffs before using his baton to guide the man to his station. Mr. Piper remained silent as his head turned to give a final look at his family. Harley made eye contact with his father and noticed this sense of disappointment on the man’s face; his father had just accepted a lie and was being carried off when there clearly were no facts to prove that this was his work.  

The crowd around Piper’s household slowly began to fade away, each one of them returning to their houses to finish their breakfast or continue with their sleep. The family lay destitute on their front yard when Harley stormed past them, dashing to his bedroom with Edward trailing behind. The two young men found themselves staring at the dismembered arrangement, yet again, and this time it was not fear that took over their body. It was rage, this bubbling heat of anger that boiled their blood. Harley Piper’s feet could not stay still; he paced the room, circling the head as Edward finally got the courage to crouch down, examining the head of the victim. The chubby fat that drooped around the mouth and the sharp nose were strikingly similar to the baker just across Edward’s house; it surely had to be Mr. Morris. But what did a modest baker have to do to endure such a crime? Edward pondered his question for a while, before the rest of Mr. Hempfield’s team kicked the boys out of the room to remove the body. The young men watched the bobbies take each body part out of the room, and they all had the same revolted expression on their face.  

“I cannot fathom the reason why they arrested my father, how stupid are these people?” Harley scoffed, the knuckles of his hand turning white as his hands balled into fists. Edward could only nod his head in silence, afraid to say something else to anger his friend. He watched the youngest Piper rush into his room and pull out a Remington. The barrel of the gun glinted in the sunlight that shone through the window, and Harley’s hands glazed over the weapon; a delicate touch dancing on the metal. Edward’s eyes widened in surprise, his arms outstretched,

“What do you think you’re doing?” He fired, reaching out to grab the gun. Harley shoved the incoming hands away and pointed the weapon at his dear friend,

“You stop me from my task, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Edward was too stunned to speak, and even as he tried to search for the right words to use, they all seemed to come out as uneasy breaths. “Surely you don’t mean that, do you?” He asked when he finally got the words to form.

“I do. My whole family is ruined, my father is now arrested for something he didn’t do and that imbecile of a murderer is out there alive. I’m going to find him and I’m going to make sure he pays for what he has done,” Harley bellowed, jostling past Edward who merely stood there, paralyzed in fear.  

“There are more civil ways to do this, I’m sure you know that, Harley.”

“I don’t care what’s civil and what’s not anymore. If I need to become the worst of my species and revert to a savage animal, then I shall. I suggest you mind your own business now Edward, it would be for your own good.” Harley threatened and then promptly left his friend stranded in the bedroom.  

*******************************************************************************************

Lucas Charleston had woken up with a start from his maid in the morning; she had shaken him from his sleep, screaming at his face that a terrible thing had occurred in someone’s house. The blind man had raised from his bed in a fright, hands flailing around as he intended to knock out the maid for disrupting the slumber that he ever so rarely got in the first place and also because he didn’t want to hear anything ill so early in the morning. As the maid narrated the tale to him, Lucas shifted uncomfortably in his bed. The Baker? He thought to himself, confused as to why a baker would’ve been killed. Perhaps he poisoned the muffins, or the recipient of the cake was left unsatisfied with the sour taste of the cream.  

“A baker?” Lucas repeated after the maid, “A baker was killed? Good god, this world is surely turning to a living hell. A baker can’t even bake, anymore, can he?” He laughed, throwing the covers off his legs. The maid scorned the ignorant comment and helped Lucas towards the bathroom.  

“No one’s safe these days, not even you, Lucas!” The maid cried outside the door as Lucas chuckled,

“If someone were to kill me, I’m sure they themselves would find shame in their act. Imagine killing such an easy prey, I’m sure a killer would want a challenge.”

The maid did not respond, and the bathroom was flooded with the noises of water sloshing as Lucas brushed his teeth. He could already smell the breakfast delectables that were probably spread out on the breakfast table and his stomach ached with hunger. When he finished getting himself ready and after a proper bath with the maid aiding him, they both descended the stairs with care (even though God forbid he would climb stairs by himself, he detested them more than anything else) and headed towards the kitchen. As Lucas feasted on the maid’s talent, he heard a fast knocking on his door that caused him to cease all actions and turn around to face the noise.

“Mrs. Smith, do you hear that?” He inquired,

“Indeed, I do.” The maid responded, getting up from her chair with a groan as she sauntered her way to the door. She peered through the side windows to get a view of the mysterious visitor, but all she could see was a large sky-blue hat with white feathers fashionably attached. She had an instinct that it must be Mrs. Schmidt but she didn’t have the courage to test her luck and simply opened the door. Mrs. Smith smiled upon seeing that her original guess was correct and saw the young woman staring at the flowers near the steps; she appeared to be in a long trance when Mrs. Smith snapped her fingers, catching the attention of Mrs. Schmidt.  

“Darling, what were you staring at for so long?” The maid giggled and Mrs. Schmidt smiled thinly,

“The flowers are beginning to pale, water it properly,” She replied, curtly and pushed past the maid and into the kitchen. Mrs. Smith huffed in annoyance and shut the door behind her, marching to Lucas to make a proper complaint about his regular visitor but her hopes were crushed when she saw their hands intertwined with the young woman caressing the blind man’s left hand.  

“I do apologize for barging in all of a sudden, but I've come to make amends from my last visit. You see my husband as been quite... burdensome when he sees me interact with other males. He is a jealous creature, but I’ve finally convinced him otherwise. Now, Lucas, tell me, what have you done in this past week?” She inquired, her hands shifting to a scone that Mrs. Smith had made.  

The blind man shook his head, “I don’t believe anything interesting can ever happen with my... my eyes, but my ears did pick up on some certain news, love.” His head shifted to his left as he believed Mrs. Smith to be standing there; she was not, actually. She had left to wash the clothes but Mrs. Schmidt didn’t utter a word as she let him continue his imagination,

“I heard someone was murdered today,” he said with a grin, and she smiled,

“Ah yes, I heard of it too. Poor Harley, his father was arrested and the boy went mad because of it." Mrs. Schmidt responded, rising from her seat. With the excuse of using the bathroom, she lifted the ends of her skirt and approached the stairs. The dent of Lucas’s head on step four still remained evident even after all these years and her eyes shifted from them to the very top where the right side of the wall remained scratched. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled upstairs and down the hallway to the mysterious room. The room had been closed for decades. The door to it was encased with what seemed to be the finest wood and there was a stained-glass window in the heart of it; easy access for on-goers to peer into. As she opened the entrance, it let out a magnificent creak, one to alert everyone present in the household. Mrs. Schmidt froze, hands firmly on the door and she held her breath.

“Is that you, Charlotte?” Lucas questioned from the kitchen and Mrs. Schmidt adjusted her voice to sound quite merry,

“Yes, it is, I told you I’m off to the bathroom!”  

“Oh right of course, carry on then!” The blind man replied, and Mrs. Schmidt rolled her eyes, moving the door open despite the heavy noise it made. This despicable door, she grimaced, and nearly had a coughing fit over the dust. She stepped back, trying to regain his breath. Her eyes darted to the hallway, seeing if there was any movement within. None was detected, thank the lords. Her eyes searched eagerly for that diary her husband always talked about and her delight knew no bounds when she found it placed safely on a pedestal right underneath a portrait of Priscilla Charleston. Taking the book, she gathered the courage to sit on the floor and gazed up at the painting of the mysterious woman in the room; a woman in her early 30s, the hint of white at the corners of her forehead that faded into the auburn of her hair. A petite nose with big yet soft eyes; her irises were that of the deep blue sea. She admired her beauty from the floor, finding it unfair that this woman was more beautiful than her. She returned to the book when she heard footsteps from the bottom of the staircase. Hesitating for a split second, she finally jumped into the air and fled out. Scuttling into the bathroom, she shut the door and what followed were uneven breaths and the maid banging on the door.  

“What’s taking you so long, young lady?” Her voice seemed pressurizing; it reminded Mrs. Schmidt of the pressure cookers in the kitchen, waiting to burst open.

“Just a second, ma’am!” She answered, panicking as to what to do with the book. She noticed the set of washcloths that had been placed in the corner of the washbasin and with a heavy heart she grabbed a towel nearby and wrapped the book in it. After that, she pulled out a bug from under her dress and stuffed the book inside. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw the seething form of Mrs. Smith, ready to pounce on her any second.  

“My apologies, ma’am. I had to... do some things, first.” She struggled to formulate a possible lie. Trying not to cause further suspicion, she raced down the stairs to bid goodbye to Lucas. She shook his hand and promised to meet him next week for a longer time than usual before rushing out the door. As she got onto her coach, she giddily shut the door and clapped her hands together in joy. This was it; she had done her deed and she couldn’t think of anyone else that would have done the same as her. Her husband would be proud of her, no doubt in that, and she could finally picture herself earning a new necklace or an accessory. Or even what she desired the most: control over him and his dense family.  

[keefwho]

March 26 - 2023

10:40 PM

I still feel like something had fundamentally changed in me that is making me far less susceptible to instances where I get too far into my own head. I think it all has to do with how well I’ve been expressing myself both around people and when I’m alone. I’ve done well letting go of the urge to conform or limit myself. It’s felt very good to more or less get out what is in my heart without fear of social rejection or even personal rejection. I’ve felt so free lately. This feels like a big step towards understanding and accepting myself. 

Basically whenever I feel lonely or bored or stressed, my go to strategy is to think of something I can do where I can wholey express my feelings and thoughts. 

11:32 PM

Sometimes I think about death and how woefully unprepared I am to face it. I’ve never had a close person to me die yet. A lot of people my age probably haven’t, and shouldn’t have to experience that. Im just afraid of the first time I am going to have to experience it. I’ve also come to believe that it’s not something anyone can be “ready” for. And no one should ever have to be “ready”. It just happens and it sounds like something you don’t move on from. It always stays with you but thats just life I guess. The closest thing I’ve had to loss are some close dogs. But I can’t remember if I cried over any of them. I think I must have a little bit. I think about how I’d react if Sporticus died. If she had to be put down, I’d have to be the one to be there with her. I think I’d break down in a way I never have before. But thats a long ways out hopefully so I don’t have to think about that quite yet. 

However I do want to take a moment to remember all the dogs I’ve loved in the past. I fear I may have tried suppressing my sadness for them passing, in some attempt to avoid pain or be “tough”. 

Zelda: I never knew Zelda but as a kid I always looked and pictures of her with fascination because I was alive with her but couldn’t remember. She made me aware at a young age of living things existing before me that had already left this world. 

Piper: She was our first Jack Russel. I do not remember what happened to her, I don’t think we kept her when we moved but I think we must have. She gave birth to MY first dog Sporty. I also don’t remember bring Sporty when we moved but we must have done that too. Actually I just called mom about it. Piper belonged to my dad’s girlfriend after the divorce and we did bring Sporty with us when we moved. I just can’t remember her in a lot of places for some reason. 

Link: Link was a stray we took in when I lived in North Carolina and brought with us when we moved to South Dakota. There we had Sporty, Link, and Kassy. Link and Kassy were both black labs. They would often run off together and come back home after a little while. We lived on a secluded piece of farmland. One time Link just didn’t come back and my parents think that maybe the landlord shot him. I was 9 years old and was devastated. I remember writing something that I read aloud to the whole class in 3rd grade. 

Jack: Jack was a dog I almost forgot about. He was meant to be my dog but I didn’t do a good job taking care of or training him. He didn’t die (he’s probably dead now), we just gave him away to someone else since I wasn’t raising him like I promised. I was still sad to see him go though. 

Kassy: Kassy grew old and had to be put down while I was in college. I definitely cried over her and was extremely angry because my dad didn’t think to let me see her one last time before he took her in. I’m still upset about that. She stayed in my room every night during highschool. She was basically my dog for a good awhile. 

Sporty: Sporty grew old and had to be put down too. I remember riding with her in the car into town to the vet. I believe mom was there and I had her drop me off at my college apartment because I did not want to attend to procedure at the vet. In the days after I painted a study of her that I still think is one of the most photorealistic things I’ve ever painted. 

Trigger: We got trigger as a stray too. He was loosely owned by an abusive guy in the valley who didn’t mind that we took him in. He grew old and was put down while I’ve been living in this cabin. I got to say a fair goodbye to him before they took him away. I almost cried for him but I think I held it in. 

Writing and reminiscing about all of them has brought me to tears. I loved all of these dogs and have never felt prepared to see any more go. Their memories will always bring me the pain of loss but also joy at how good of dogs they were and how many memories I share with them. I loved them so much. 

[steadydrum]

three first meetings

CWs: military/war imagery, death, gun violence, dissociation/loss of identity, trauma, ableism

He was twelve, once.

Most of his time was spent at the camp, leading drills for the older men. And the older men in his battalion loved him, like they loved their own sons and little brothers. They called him “the kid,” “the boy,” “the drummer,” but that was still better than the snarled insults his mother and older siblings would throw his way. They’d sneak him extra rations when he looked hungry, but it was always more than he’d ever get back home. It was all so much more, here--more food, more attention, more safety. He didn’t know much about love, but if you had asked, he probably would have said he found it somewhere in the barracks. Some were even trying to teach him to read, although that never really went anywhere. He was much better at learning the drills and cadences that were technically his job--he started out sloppy and desperate to impress, and very quickly found so much comfort in the regular pitter-patter of his little red snare, as well as the proud, off-kilter grins of the older men when he first started getting the hang of things. 

The battlefield itself was far less loving. Shoved to the front of the line, he would shut his eyes tight every time the shots rang loud in his ears, as if that would help the echoes of gunfire stop ricocheting around his skull. That always got him a clip to the back of his head during drills, but nothing could truly stop that instinct to curl into a little hole, to run as far as he could from that piercing noise. His little red snare didn’t seem nearly loud enough to command the whole battalion, but they all marched in perfect step as he played, moving forward towards the enemy line. Soon, he learned to just put the fear aside, keep his eyes wide open, and play and play and never stop. There would always be fallen soldiers, but they would all return to the barracks at the end of the day nonetheless.

Sometimes, more than some of them fell. Sometimes, he would have no choice but to run to avoid a bullet to the head, or a knife to the back, or a fist to the face. But he still played on, even while he was running. Somehow, they could hear him all the way across the battlefield, through smoke and shouts and the thick stench of blood. They could hear his little snare pattering away, and they could find him. They would find him.

The piper parted through the smoke of gunpowder like an angel descending from heaven. 

This is what he thought, as he huddled behind a large rocky outcropping and shook with fear. He’ll play, and they’ll find him. He had dropped his sticks somewhere, or they were stolen, and his left hand was broken, limp, and bloody. He’ll play. They laid in front of him, face down in the mud he knew was wet with-- They’ll find him. He beat his bare hand against the snare weakly. He kept his eyes wide, though he couldn’t see through the smoke. He kept his ears sharp, though he couldn’t hear any motion at all on the battlefield beyond. He couldn’t look at his fallen brothers, his family, so he looked to the sky--clear and blue and beautiful--and he played his drum, and he waited to die.

And he heard something. He knew what a fife was, although their unit didn’t have one to play alongside him, and it sounded a bit like that. Trilling and birdlike and sweet. It must be some other battalion searching for survivors, he thought with a panicked hope. Even if it were the enemy, it was someone, and they were here to help. He cried out to the mystery piper, still beating on his drum until it led the other man towards him.

Dimly, the boy found it odd that he wasn’t actually holding an instrument. But music seemed to flow from the man, surrounding him and pushing them together (This is how he always remembered it, at least). He looked like every other soldier, like every other general and every other private he’s ever seen before, but the music marked him as being born of the battlefield itself. He looked down at the boy with the most agonizing pity, and he was terrifying, and he was beautiful. 

And he gave the boy a proud, crooked smile and he ruffled his hair and he told him to keep playing, and by some absolute miracle, he did.

Someone must have found him lying in the mud, half dead from starvation, exhaustion, delirium, still tapping one-handed on his drum. He was muttering something incoherent, something about a piper. Sometimes it was an angel, sometimes a demon. His words started catching in his throat. His hair went white. They sent him back home, but he ended up in the barracks again the next morning. It felt more right that way.

And days and nights and days and nights passed, and he must have been fifteen. And they probably weren’t fighting the same enemy, and he probably wasn’t marching with the same boys, since they no longer regarded him with such fondness. They gave him sideways glances across the camp, seemed to avoid him during meals and free time. That’s all the same. He didn’t know how to talk to them, anyway. He didn’t really think in words, but in marches and cadences. They had taught him long ago how to command the battalion through the voice of his drum, and he was ashamed to admit he had forgotten any other way to speak. He stared at the other boys across the field with dead black eyes that reflected an eerie, obsidian red. He tapped out orders barked by the drill sergeant, watched as they fell in line, stood at attention, spun on their heels. Sometimes, they fired their rifles, one after another, in beautiful heartbeats. He heard these heartbeats plastered over his dreams. He wondered when the heartbeats started, what battle they were trying to lead him towards. He stole their rifles and shot squirrels at the edges of the camp. It wasn’t the same.

---

Days and nights and days, and he was probably around twenty. He had to be, because he was on the front lines, and they didn’t like putting kids out there anymore. They used horns to call all the soldiers to attention now, but they all still called him the drummer. He didn’t think he introduced himself like that--can’t quite remember introducing himself as anything, really--so they must just know him by the pounding, aching heartbeats that follow behind him, like some obedient dog clipping gently at his heels. They must hear it too, because they step in time to it, even without knowing. They all reload in time to this drumbeat that drowns out his thoughts, they cry and moan and gasp for air in perfect rhythm. It’s a language, this rhythm, and he wishes they could speak it too. They would understand him, then. He thinks this every time they fall, shot through or starved or simply left behind. He could have warned them, if they understood. 

And nights, and nights, and nights. He stopped counting his age long ago, stopped counting the years that passed or the battles they won or lost. There must have been peace times, somewhere between all this. But peace wouldn’t bring him to his Piper, so that must not be important enough to live through. That’s all he thought about these days--head filled to burst with Piper, and drums, and blood. And besides, nobody spoke his language in peace. The uniforms changed, the weapons changed, but the drums in his ears never really ceased. There were certain rhythms he liked: The tapping of the tongue against the teeth during frantic recitations of the Lord’s Prayer. The click-click-click of a magazine being fumbled into a rifle by nervous hands. The off-kilter inhales of a near-dead man with a bullet in his gut, punctuated by little syncopated cries and wails. The lovely pattern of being shot dead--first the bang, then the impact, then the final inhale, then the thump of a body hitting packed earth. Then the enemy reloads, and it repeats. There was lovely music to be found on the battlefield, and the drummer liked making little rhythms of his own. If he shot one in the foot, they’d march a bit wrong, stepping down on the triplet instead of the eighth. If he crushed the barrel of their rifle in the night, it would misfire in a glorious crescendo. He should have been discharged long ago, should have been shot in his sleep, but for some reason, none of that ever really stuck. Whenever his battalion would lay slain beneath the blistering sun, the drummer would simply wait for the others to pass, and get up to find the next unit. Sometimes, he would join the enemy--no way to know which side his piper might fight for. They were all the same, anyway.

The drummer didn’t remember when or where they were, who was fighting or why, or what side he happened to be on, when he crouched in a shallow foxhole with a half-dozen others. Gunfire peppered overhead--a common song, but a pretty one nonetheless. He looked down at the other men hunkered down beside him. The one at his side was small, and grubby. He wore an unfamiliar face, with hair too long to be regulation and uniform a shabby vague sort of color he couldn’t identify. But there was something about the way he looked at the other boys, with a hungry, aching sort of pity that made the drummer pause. It was familiar. He’d seen that look once before. 

His piper. He found him.

And here he was.

And what glorious music played.

“You got tall, didn’t you?” He chuckled around a cigarette. The drummer dimly remembered warnings about smoking near gunpowder, and decided that the Piper must just know better than them. He nods, tentatively putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder, as if to prove that he’s real. “Surprised you’re still here, all this time.”

“I. Was looking for you.” He managed to form the words in time to speak them, coming out stilted and low.

The Piper looked up, an odd expression crossing his face. Some mix of shock, hope, and crushing pain. “You. You were?”

The drummer nods frantically, still in utter disbelief. “You. Saved me. I only made it out because of you.”

At this, the Piper laughed. It sounded like gunfire, a sharp rat-ta-tat that made the drummer’s heart flutter, matching its pace. “Ah, angel. You didn’t make it out. You know that, right?”

Muffled confusion washes over him. He must have shown it on his face, because the Piper shifted where he sat, still grinning.

“You really think you just lived through all of this? They didn’t even give you a gun. That’s sweet, mate. Really is.”

The drummer touches his own face with an apparent look of horror, and the Piper laughs again. He’s relieved to find flesh as always, slightly dirtied from the mud they sat in, and a beating pulse underneath. He swats at the Piper’s shoulder.

“Don’t believe me?” he asked, still sporting that same slimy grin. The drummer just looked at him, frustrated. Waited for him to explain, or give up this weird game.

“Fine. Do it my way, then.”

And before he could react, the Piper took out his revolver and aimed it at the drummer’s head. And fired.

Was his piper an officer? Was he the General? His quarters were nicer than any he’d ever seen in his time enlisted, and he’d been promoted to Lieutenant once. As soon as he thought it, he knew the answer--the Piper was an angel given human form. Or something like it, certainly. Whatever god or demon he was, he needed no rank--everyone knew him as their commander. He brushed a thumb against the sleeping man’s cheek, completely awe-struck. The Piper stirred slightly at the touch, and opened his eyes. Smiled.

And night. And day. And he woke up in a bed. The sheets were soft, and white. Not entirely, there were still some stains, probably dirt or blood that no bleach could quite manage, but they were nicer than anything the rank-and-file got. This wasn’t his bed. No, obviously not. Because the Piper slept beside him, curled gently into his arms.

“Hey, there you are. Knew you’d get up eventually.”

When he speaks, the drummer could cry. The Piper’s music, loud and chaotic and exhilarating, falls into a beautiful even lockstep with his own rhythm. Slides right into place, into a space he didn’t even know was empty. He smiles, nods.

“Ever been shot like that?”

The drummer suddenly remembers. Eyes wide, he runs his fingertips over his forehead and finds only an odd little starburst scar where the bullet went through. And it most certainly went through. He remembers the flash of light, the smell of smoke and fire, the all-consuming noise that almost drowned out the drums, filling his head as he fell. But here he was, nonetheless. In his Piper’s bed.

If he was dead, does that mean that this was heaven?

The Piper laughs, and the drummer realizes that he must have asked that out loud. He flushed with embarrassment. Words had never spilled so easily from his lips before--he’d never had to hold them back. 

“Oh, fuck no. We’re just back at the barracks. Bit of rest before we get shipped out again tomorrow.” The Piper stretched, cracking his joints with a yawn. 

“You’re leaving?” asked the drummer, sounding a bit more pathetic than he intended. To his credit, it was early, and he DID just die. The Piper didn’t seem to notice, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a battered little notebook. There was a dog tag pressed between the pages as a haphazard bookmark--Alfred. Was that his piper’s name? Should he have a name? Would Alfred find it weird that he didn’t? As the Piper--As Alfred leafed through the worn pages, the drummer fretted quietly. 

Alfred seemed to find what he was looking for, because he suddenly spoke up. “Going up to Flanders next, I think. Gonna be a good one there, I know it. You coming with?”

He asked it so casually, so easily, that the drummer nodded without thinking. Alfred grins, nods. “Good. Didn’t want to lose you again.”

“No. Never.”

Alfred gives that same weird look, of surprise and hope and fear and pain all rolled into one. “You really mean that?”

He nodded again, instantly. Of course he did. It’s the only thing he’s been wanting for this whole sorry half-life. Alfred looks like he’s about to cry as he takes the drummer by the back of the neck and pulls him into a kiss. It feels exactly like dying, except he doesn’t ever want to wake up. 

---

“Hey! What the fuck?”

The drummer looks up from unpacking his kit to see an angry-looking black-haired girl stomping towards him. Someone with a buzz-cut and a scowl lingers behind her, cleaning out the underside of their nails with a pocketknife. The drummer looks them both up and down and continues assembling the kit at the back of the stage.

“What, you fucking deaf or something?” She signs this last bit to emphasize, and the drummer has to bite back a laugh. He looks up at her, pauses, and signs back, “A bit.”

“I’m talking to you! That’s our shit, what the fuck do you think you’re doing” The girl, 5 feet of nothing but rage, grabs a fistful of his brilliantly white hair and yanks, so he’s forced to meet her eyes. He chuckles to himself. They have no idea. He swats her hand away, and goes right back to work. 

The scowl drops from her face in a second, hands immediately fumbling through her words. “Oh, er. Sorry mate. Our singer is too, I didn’t mean to be a dick.” The person behind her laughs, and she whips around, nailing them in the shoulder with a crumpled ball of paper. The drummer shrugs, not feeling the need to elaborate further. 

The girl sighs. “Look, man. Al’s gonna fucking kill you if he sees you messing with the drums, so you’ve gotta get out of here. Who even are you?”

His heart melts, hearing the nickname. Al. He must like these two, letting them call him that, so they must be alright. He pictured the other man now, smiling at them sideways or throwing an arm around their shoulders. He’d forgotten how much he missed his Piper. He’d been searching the battlefields for ages trying to find him once again, and it only now occurred to him that there might be just as much slaughter to be found in civilian life. But--Right, a question. Probably ought to answer that.

“I’m the drummer.” He says it simply, obviously. It should be obvious, after all. It usually is. One of the little toms is broken, skin split down the middle as if by a knife. He makes a face and sets that one aside.

The girl rolls her eyes. “No you’re not, we just retired her two weeks ago. And he wouldn’t just send in a replacement without us meeting them first.”

He just shrugs again. Takes out a battered little hatbox and unearths an ancient snare, in a dusty, faded red. Compares it against the broken tom, and--yeah, that would work. He carefully slices off the actual snares laced across the bottom and screws it onto the drum kit like it belongs there. A new era.

“When do we get to just kill him?” The other person finally asks, seemingly running out of patience with this charade. The girl hesitates. Why didn’t they just kill him? When had anyone else, any drunken audience member or overbearing crew at the venue, been allowed to touch one of their instruments and live? Let alone right after a retirement! They should be watching this man’s brains splatter the back wall, not letting him customize their drum kit!

And she still hesitates, silence hanging in the air as he finishes putting everything together. He leans back a bit, surveying his work. Looks up at her with a small smile, and savors their confusion, their lightly muffled fear. And starts to play.

Of course, the girl thinks, as the other caves in her skull with a nearby microphone. It really was obvious, wasn’t it? He’s the drummer.

Unconsciously, the two stand at attention. It felt like the most natural thing to do, hearing the drummer play. He was good, that much was easy. Even without other music to lead, whatever solo he was playing was compelling, catchy, and complex enough to be impressive without tipping into showing off. But more than that, it made you want to listen. Made you want to fall in line. Made you want to fight.

A moment later, the rest of the band walks in. Al’s got one arm slung around the shoulders of a twitchy-looking man who clutches the neck of a bass like he’s trying to strangle it. They both stop in their tracks as they witness the final moments of the drummer’s little warm up.

And he looks up.

And he looks up.

And their eyes meet.

“Holy fuck. Drummer.” Alfred walks towards him slowly, like any fast movements might scare this ghost of a memory away. The others are frozen in place. “I really thought you were dead this time.”

He always liked how Al said that. Drummer, with a capital D. Like it’s a name, or a title. Maybe that’s how they’ll all say it now, all these other little souls he’s decided to collect up and keep in a bottle. He’d like to be one of those souls, he thinks. He shrugs, no explanation necessary. Obviously, he’s dead. Obviously, he’s still here.

They crash together in a glorious firework of an embrace, and the music slides into place once again.

#writing #lore #oc writing #drummer #al #backstory :) #feel free to reblog this i looooove attention :)

[carolap53]

The “I Will” of God Jerusalem shall be inhabited as villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and livestock in it. And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the Lord, and I will be the glory in her midst. (Zechariah 2:4–5)

There are mornings when I wake up feeling fragile. Vulnerable. It’s often vague. No single threat. No one weakness. Just an amorphous sense that something is going to go wrong and I will be responsible.

It’s usually after a lot of criticism. Lots of expectations that have deadlines and that seem too big and too many.

As I look back over about 50 years of such periodic mornings, I am amazed how the Lord Jesus has preserved my life. And my ministry. The temptation to run away from the stress has never won out — not yet anyway. This is amazing. I worship him for it.

Instead of letting me sink into a paralysis of fear, or run to a mirage of greener grass, he has awakened a cry for help and then answered with a concrete promise.

Here’s an example. This is recent. I woke up feeling emotionally fragile. Weak. Vulnerable. I prayed: “Lord help me. I’m not even sure how to pray.”

An hour later I was reading in Zechariah, seeking the help I had cried out for. It came.

Jerusalem shall be inhabited as villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and livestock in it. And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the Lord, and I will be the glory in her midst. (Zechariah 2:4–5)

There will be such prosperity and growth for the people of God that Jerusalem will not be able to be walled in any more. “The multitude of people and livestock” will be so many that Jerusalem will be like many villages spreading out across the land without walls.

Prosperity is nice, but what about protection?

To which God says in Zechariah 2:5, “I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the Lord.” Yes. That’s it. That is the promise. The “I will” of God. That is what I need.

And if it is true for the vulnerable villages of Jerusalem, it is true for me a child of God. God will be a “wall of fire all around me.” Yes. He will. He has been. And he will be.

And it gets better. Inside that fiery wall of protection he says, “And I will be the glory in her midst.” God is never content to give us the protection of his fire; he will give us pleasure of his presence.

John Piper

[fantasmalforces]

“Bambi ‘Buck’ Hughes is Oompa Loomp-coded, pass it on.”

#// Pip take it back- #{ ‘’ never looked back never feared never cried ‘’ | piper } #// pls enjoy my 1 am mid-breakdown thoughts

[ao3writers-pls-love-me]

Solangelo headcanon (ft. some Apollo cabin contents)

Will nagged his siblings and Nico about unhealthy food but he makes the best unhealthy food. His specialty is Nashville hot fried chicken and chili cheese fries. Whenever Nico craves for something to eat, he asked Will to cook for him. And despite Will mother henning Nico, he always puts extra sauce in it.

Nico often helps Will with the infirmary. At the end of the day, Will gives him cheesy and funny stickers, or some kit kat bars and vitamin C.

Nico keeps every single one of them stickers and stick it on his friend's gifts, like Annabeth's books, Percy's fancy blue pen, Gover's "SAVE THE NATURE" shirt, Hazel's cards box, Jason Frank and Reyna's BIG bottle of seashells and cute small things they sometimes collected together, Piper and Leo's huge treasure-like box with cool Rachel's drawings, where he contained all of the precious things from above, which comforted and reminded him about his friend's presence.

Nico has a different box for Will, not because he treats Will differently, of course not, it just cause Will gifted him a LOT of stuff, like, bouquet of paper flowers Will made with his siblings, picture book full of him and Will together or Nico's other friends in their daily life (he cried with every pages flipped, im so sorry), Disney movies, old music discs, romance books, comics, you name it.

Nico definitely had bad days, and it never should've been taken lightly. Like it's very bad, he just woke up and the universe decided to hurt him. He had flash back from wars and battles, panic attacks, nightmares, Bianca's last memories, disturbing thoughts, claustrophobic, paralyzation from the fear, Cupid, in which, all he wanted is talks and hugs. So if that day comes, he will always put a string telephone outside of his cabin's door, waiting.

Will noticed it, it became his daily routine actually. Wakes up, prepares for the day, walks past the Hades cabin, sees if there's something in front of the door, if not, the day starts normally, if yes, well, there's Will. So he looks at the cup, connected with the other one on the other side and understood. Immediately heads out to get Nico's food, talked to Chiron, Mr D, his siblings and back to Nico. He will knock, and the other side will knock back, he will set the food down, grab the cup and willingly talk to Nico until he's ok again. He will never do, but that's alright, because when Nico open the door, crying, Will will always be there, they will hug, eat, hug again and Will staying by his side the rest of the day. Occasionally drags him to the infirmary when emergency comes up or walks somewhere with him when requested.

Nico and Will have movie nights all the time. Usually alone, often with his siblings, friends, rarely with Will's other friends, but mostly alone.

Nico loves Disney movies, he adores it. He gets blushy with romantic scenes, small giggles when funny looking characters and ridiculous lines, sad and teary when he realized something in the middle of the film, furrows his eyebrows when he focuses in the drama. Will watches all of it, fascinated by how expressive Nico is.

Mr D gifted Nico an old record player (ppl like giving him stuff ok, its his love languages too) and he remembered Will had given him some old country and worn out musical discs, so him being happy one day, while cleaning his room, turns the music on and slow dancing to it.

Will loves it when Nico asked him for a dance, nothing fancy like in the movie and stuff. Just, swaying their bodies close to Mr D's record player, holding shoulders, holding hands, soft chuckles, blushing cheeks, tenderness in their eyes, gentleness in their hearts, whispers, only for them to hear, the background music humming old 80s songs, Nico hums with it, not even embarrassed at the slightest, only grateful for everything. Its...Will just, loves it, a lot.

Being with Nico di Angelo is the best gifted anyone could have bestowed onto William Andrew Solace.

Nico always sits with Will and his cabin when there's campfire. He pretends to not like their campfire songs but secretly vibing with it and unfortunately, they knows so they love Nico even more.

Will having bad days, too. When he overworked himself and getting trauma attacks from all of his patient's injuries, flash-backs to the battle of Manhattan, where people died in his arms, the majority of the Apollo cabin, Will being the head counselor in the middle of chaos, mistook Nico as an angel of death, coming here to bring all of the demigods dead souls away, watched people actually died and eaten and killed and him not being able to do a single thing other than healed Annabeth and the other demigods and the Gaea battle and more dead bodies, now including Romans as well and Will just, couldn't stop it, couldn't be strong. He broke down on that day, drown himself in sleeps and empty dreams. So whenever that happens, he always hang his clean flannel shirt on the bench outside of the cabin, waiting.

And just like Will, Nico will notice him being late for breakfast, see the shirt because Will's flannel shirts always have the unique Will's and make him have that comfy feelings (Nico only wanted to oh so dam much cuddle in it). Nico will signal his siblings and they will nod, signal back, he will walk over to the bench, take the shirt, wear it and casually walk into the Apollo cabin. Nico will go bare footed to Will's bed, flop down, hug him, and he will know that's Nico and he will turn, look at him, smile, cry and burry himself deep in Nico's wamth. Minutes later, his siblings will bring food, joining in the comfort, biggest group hugs, biggest hearts. It didn't make him forget all about the bad stuffs and dead people, no, but that's ok, that's alright, because right now, he's with his most beloved family and that's matter to him. It always does.

When Nico's friends left the Camp Half-blood in separated ways, he spends most of his time with the Apollo cabin, he may not admit it, but he loves them as if they were his family. There will be always musical yelling, cries in saxophone, laughs in violin, judges in guitar, angry in ukulele and Will with his sibling's haikus, but, that's what Nico signed up for.

Nico and the Apollo cabin having some mini concerts. They go absolutely bonkers when Nico plays the kazoo. Will loves it when Nico cringed at the Rick Rolls.

They build pillow fortress! And sleep together. The siblings always wake up first just to giggle at Will and Nico hugging each other like their life depends on it.

Will and Nico made friendship bracelets for each other, their wrists have 3-5 bracelets on them. Nico's the neat and arty braids one with accessories, Will's the too difficult and pro-DIY one with special good luck knots. Lots of colors, but one just has yellow, butter, honey, sky blue, lapis strings with square beads say 'Will' and one black, then rainbow strings with square beads say 'Nico'.

#solangelo #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #apollo #solangelo headcanon #nico di angelo headcanon #will solace headcanon #fluff #apollo cabin #happy new year #im dropping this beloved headcanon here #its a lil long but its solangelo so its fine #HAPPY 2022 GUYS #gods i had homeworks and school almost starts i have nothing in my head #but have wholesome gay boys here in your life #be known that mental healths and traumas cant be fix with relationships #so when i said that they had bad days #they had bad days #but they will always be there for each other #not with the intention to fix the opposite no WITH the intention to talk listen be there for the opposite

[depressedacadamia]

Blood will have blood

Summary:  Being a healer during a war was a job that only few could handle- seeing soldiers who risk their lives was not for the weak. But Will questions everything as a powerful but very young demigod is about to die before his very eyes.

A/N: Day two of Will solace's bday week!!! I know I could have written another 3 Days in the infirmary fic but I thought I'd give some angst because I haven't done it in a while and I listened to somone talk about Patroclus' death; it was in the Podcast Let's talk about myths, baby! It's suuppperrr good but that episode had me close to tears. Thnks to @solangeloweek AND THIS IS REVENGE FOR THAT REALLY GOOD BUT SAD FIC BY MY FRIEND; THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE. Anyways, love from me <3 !!

Read on A03      Masterlist

“Move!” Will yelled as he hastily brought medical supplies to the healer who was working on fixing someone’s foot which had been sliced off.

“Fucking Gods, sending their kids to fight their battles, They don't know when to stop, do they?” Will gritted out aggressively as he crouched down by his patient- a powerful but young demigod who had been severely injured in a vicious fight.

Will washed the bloody cloth in the water and produced a clean one, at which he gently cleaned the wounds. He could feel their life force thinning, their heart beating softer and softer. He had given the demigod all he could- ambrosia, nectar and as much treatment as he could offer; but they were in a war- he couldn't dwell too much on the patients who he couldn’t save.

“If you don't require urgent treatment, you need to leave,” Will announced. “ Starting now, we are under triage. Red patients will immediately be accepted, yellow will have to wait- the walking wounded will have to consult their nearest field medic. I repeat, As of now, we are in triage!”

“Will, a new wave of patients are going to come soon- apparently the enemies have launched a fresh attack and our side wasn't prepared,” Kayla mumbled, handing out supplies to the healers. Will groaned but his frustration was quickly overcome with worry: how would his friends on the frontline fare with this fresh assault?

He worried for some of his siblings who had chosen to be soldiers over healers, he worried for people like Annabeth Chase and Piper Mclean- He even worried over Percy Jackson.

But most of all he worried over Nico Di Angelo. He was not concerned over Nico dying; he knew his boyfriend very well and the chance that he’d let someone else kill him was practically impossible. But he did fear Nico overworking himself, it was almost unavoidable.

Alas, he couldn’t worry about his boyfriend, he was in a war after all and he had to focus on his job- to heal the others.

“Will-” An urgent voice tugged him from his thoughts. “ Isn’t there anything else you can do for them?” The soldier pointed at his wounded younger sibling. His bruised, bloody face was contorted into a grim expression as his hand gripped the hand of the dying soldier.

“We can’t do anymore,” Kayla informed sadly. But as Will watched the young patient slowly being dragged to Thanatos, he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't this child's time yet- that's what they were, a child.

They were fighting a war, children were fighting a war while the almighty sat in their thrones above and watched it as if it were simply a film. Innocent children like the one beside Will were dying and.. And - and the gods just expected them to continue.

“There is something I can try,” Will started quietly. “But I can’t guarantee that it will work.”

“Will, you can’t-” Kayla quickly cut in. “You know how draining it is on your body and you've never tried it on somebody with such grave injuries before.”

“But I can still try,” Will told Kayla. His mind was made up- if his friends were out there risking their lives on the battlefield, this was the least he could do; risk his life to save this innocent, and powerful demigod. If this went right, their quick recovery would be essential to winning.

Kayla knew that nothing could stop Will as he peeled off his gloves and placed his hands onto the cold skin of the soldier. Will’s hands danced slowly around the bloodstained chest and abdomen of the soldier and every once in a while, his fingertips would accidentally brush against the wounds dipping the tips of his nails in a crimson substance that was still warm.

He glowed, as he healed- he always did. But his hands felt warmer than usual and when he felt it was time, he pressed his hands into the bloody wound that no longer poured blood- for there was no blood to pour. Wil drained himself, trying to heal what he could but it was to no avail- this child had died. There was nothing Will could give.

But he refused to let this be it- It couldn't be! The Gods couldn't let this child die, they were not a soldier- they were a child for god's sake!

So after he had given everything- all the healing power that he had been blessed with by his father, he found himself with his hands pressed into the lifeless body of the child. And slowly, as he weeped over their corpse, with every drip of his tears, he felt a little more of life ease into the child again. And so he bellowed.

He cried and let the tears pour into the wounds, healing, no- bringing the child back to life. They steamed down his face as he mourned as grievers do. He clutched at the child’s chest that no longer beat and he felt the life before his grow stronger. He heard a little ‘ba-dum’.

Then, the soldier opened their eyes and took a deep inhale.

There was clapping and laughter and crying as people across the infirmary watched the miracle being performed by the Head Healer.

Will felt a smile across his face. While he felt weak, so very weak, he felt pride as he looked at the child, who bleated as they choked air into their lungs like a new born baby goat, their cheeks rosy again.

And then he felt pain. Excruciating pain. It twisted and burned. He heard screaming, the scream of a mother who has lost their child before realising that it was his own voice- his hands, once covered in the blood of the child shot to clutch at his chest only to feel a warm thick liquid coat his hands like water running out of a tap.

He gasped for air. Urgent hands were on him, lifting him onto a stretcher as people immediately fell silent. The room, celebrating moments ago, fell into a trance watching. The healers worked desperately, tearing open Will’s clothes, working as fast as they could.

Will coughed and coughed and as the blood stained his lips he let out a small smile. His small smile turned into a laugh covered with his coughing which only forced up more of the substance as it trickled slowly down his chin.

“Will? Will?” Kayla asked desperately, watching him choke. His lips turned crooked as his face paled, displaying his freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks.

“Please frame these last words: Fuck the Gods,” He whispered, content with his last moments before he suddenly shot open his eyes as he recalled that he had forgotten something. “ Oh- and tell Nico that I love him and that jazz.”

His voice was weak and the blood began to dry on his hands.

“Tell me what?” A confused, alarmed and horrified voice echoed from the other side of infirmary belonging to a warrior holding their helmet under their arm and stygian iron sword in their hand.

#will solace #nico di angelo #kayla knowles #will solace fanfic #will solace angst #solangelo #solangelo angst #pjo #hoo #toa #solangelo fanfic #Nico Di Angelo fanfic #will x nico #Nico x will #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #will solace fic #pjo angst #hoo angst #toa angst #Nico x will angst #will x Nico angst

[that-vigilante-piedpiper]

For vigilante!Reo, I'm imagining that Reo would only use ranged weapons as support for Piper (so like Piper is in the fray of things with his pipes/staff and Reo is just like standing on a nearby rooftop sniping with like a crossbow)

Also crooks are shit at names so I'm imagining something like "Crossfire" or "Crosshairs"

“Watch your six, damnit!” Reo shouts from above, reloading his crossbow with a blunt, taser-tipped bolt and firing. It slams into the back of the villain below him.

“That’s what I’ve got you for!” Piper calls up at the older teen. He has the audacity to not so much as glance behind him as the villain seizes up and collapses.

Reo’s stationed on the building’s roof just above where Izuku’d been fighting. His staff glints in the darkness as he strikes a triumphant pose. Reo yanks the night vision goggles off his face. “You can’t keep relying on me like that! I might not always be here to help!” He yells angrily.

Izuku’s laugh carries up from the alley. “I know, I know~” he chuckles, brushing it off.

Reo huffs, forcing himself to release the tension in his shoulders. He never would’ve been tempted into vigilantism if he’d known it’d only make Izuku more careless.

“You’re friend’s right,” a voice laughs darkly from behind Reo, ringing loudly in the night air. There’s a sharp pain in his shoulder as his arm is grabbed and forcefully wrenched behind his back. His face twists and Reo lets out a grunt of pain.

Izuku looks up with wide, fear filled eyes. “Counterbalance!” He can’t quite see what’s happening from where he is, but he can sense the sudden danger Reo’s been cast into as he rushes towards the nearest fire escape.

The villain’s attention wavers towards Izuku as the crossbow slips from Reo’s grasp. It clatters loudly against the roof. She pushes Reo closer to the ledge to get a better eye on Izuku’s location. “Stay where you are if you want your friend here alive!” She calls, peeking over the side of the building as Izuku grinds to a halt on the fire escape stairs. The pounding echo of his his boots fall silent.

Izuku’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of his heavy breathing audible from up above. “What do you want.”

“What do I want?” The woman asks, pushing Reo’s arm further up his back until a cry of pain forces it’s way through his lips.

“Please!” Izuku cries.

Izuku’s fully distracted her now. Reo can tell by the way her grip loosens around his forearm. He grits his teeth, pinching his eyes shut before using his free hand to sneak one of the crossbow bolts from the quiver at his hip.

“I want you to turn yourselves over to the police.” The smile in the woman’s voice is evident. “Killing you would put a bounty on my head, but I’d be willing to accept it if my colleagues and I are able to return to business as usual. If you turn yourselves in, however, it’d yield slightly better results.”

Reo’s grip tightens around the arrow before driving it into the thigh of the woman behind him. Electricity crackles up her leg and she cries out, knee giving way beneath her. She releases him and Reo jerks away with a hiss of pain as his right arm returns to dangle limply at his side.

She does her best to stumble back up, desperately spitting curses as she goes.

Izuku shouts something incomprehensible from below before resuming his mad dash up the fire escape.

Reo draws one of his newly acquired weapons. He aims it one armed at the woman and she freezes, falling silence and giving up all attempts to push herself back up.

Izuku finally claws his way over the roof’s ledge on all fours. His eyes widen upon seeing the weapon in Reo’s hand. “Is that a fucking gun?!” Izuku chokes.

Reo keeps his aim steady despite the trembling in his legs. “Killing you would put a bounty on my head,” he mocks, heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest, “but I’d be willing to accept it if my colleague and I get to go home tonight.” He glances over at Izuku, jerking his head towards the villain as a silent signal to cuff her. “Turning you in, however,” he quips, “will yield slightly better results.”

[This was super fun to write!! Great idea anon, vigilante!reo my beloved 🤩🤩 also yes I gave Reo what I had originally planned to make Izuku’s, I think it fits him in a way it never really did fit Izuku considering Reo’s helping ‘balance him out’. 🤩🤩🤩]

#pied piper ask #vigilante reo au #HONESTLY LOVE THIS HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING EVEN IF IT TOOK FOREVER GSJSGSJSGSMS #counterbalance

[timelesslords]

surprise! Under Freezing Stars Chapter 31.5

Remember how on monday I said there might be a surprise with the regular update? Well this is it! I had a feeling people were going to want to see this particular scene play out and since Annabeth wasn’t conscious for it I gave writing from Percy’s perspective a go. It didn’t quite fit in the main narrative and I didn’t want to deviate from Annabeth’s perspective in the main fic, so I’m only posting it on tumblr as a bonus scene. 

This takes place immediately after chapter 29 but you should read it after you read chapter 31. The scene is below the cut to avoid accidental spoilers. Enjoy!

For a few horrifying moments, Perseus thought that he’d been too late. 

He should have never turned his head when the jar broke, never let Annabeth go off without him. By the time he’d realized she was gone, stumbling forward like some invisible force was compelling her, she was already too far to hear his broken warnings. 

He’d barely managed to grab her, to jolt her eye line from the worst of the goddess’s form, before she’d collapsed. 

Perseus caught her before she could hit the ground, but those scarce moments it took to lower her to the floor and check her pulse were some of the most terrifying of his life. 

His own heart seemed to skip several beats before he confirmed that hers was still beating, however weakly. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes closed. Perseus had gotten there in time, but she was going to slip away if he didn’t do something, and fast. 

He already knew what she needed. He’d known from the second she’d collapsed. 

The dust was still settling, but he could hear the desperate calls of the others from across the split he’d made in the floor. The earthquake had been an accident, and he still had no idea how the others had made it in the cavern at all, but right now he didn’t care about either of those things. 

“Fai!” he called out, coughing as falling dust caught in his lungs. 

Fai had the nectar. Fai could save her. 

It would come at a cost, a steep one. There was something unbearable in knowing he was taking the choice out of Annabeth’s hands, but there wasn’t a way around it, not if she wanted to live. He was fully aware that she might hate her for it, but right then, watching her life force slip away with each unsteady beat of her heart, Perseus didn’t care. 

She could hate him forever, never speak to him again, as long as she was alive. And if the others had a poor reaction… 

Perseus steeled himself. He had Riptide. There was no water nearby, but he could cause another earthquake if he had to. Gods knew he was desperate enough to, even after how much energy the last one had expended. 

Over the past week he’d come to consider these people his friends. He even cared for Piper, who he was fairly sure hated him. He didn’t want to fight them, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to— but he wouldn’t let Annabeth die over something so asinine as Roman law either. 

“Fai!” He called out again, his throat still burning from the dust he’d inhaled before. He was starting to panic now, terrified that Fai couldn’t hear him. He could carry Annabeth closer, but he couldn’t take her across the crevice he’d made in the ground, not by himself—

“Perseus!” 

Relief washed through him, closely followed by dread. It had been Jason’s voice that had responded, not Fai’s. But Jason could still get over the gash in the floor.  

“Help!” he screamed anyway, “Over here!” 

Every second that passed before Piper and Jason stumbled out of the dust and darkness into view felt like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. There was barely even time for the shock to register on their faces before Fai and Hazel followed behind, Fai shifting back into his human form from some winged animal. 

“Annabeth!” 

Piper surged forward, but Perseus could only look at Fai, desperately searching for the leather pouch that Perseus knew he’d been carrying, that Fai had to be carrying. And it was there, strapped to Fai’s belt. Perseus almost cried in relief when he saw it. 

“What the hell happened?” Jason asked. He was kneeling beside Annabeth, across from Perseus, two fingers on her wrist. His expression looked the same as it always did, hardened and neutral, though he couldn’t hide the shake in his voice or in his fingers. 

“She looked, she looked when the jar shattered,” Perseus said, trying to ignore how his voice was shaking too, “She needs—“

“She looked?” Hazel cut in, horrified, “How is she still alive?” 

“I blocked it, right before the end, but she— she—”

Perseus felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but the words were sticking in his throat. Annabeth’s hand was starting to grow cold. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it.

“She what?” Piper asked, desperately. She was kneeling beside Jason. Perseus had no issue reading the fear that was spelled plainly across her face. 

“She needs nectar. Right now,” he said, preemptive dread pooling in his stomach. 

He knew he should be paying attention to Jason and Piper, that their reactions could make the difference in this moment, but Perseus found himself looking at Fai instead, silently begging him to understand.

Unlike Jason and Piper, Fai hadn’t kneeled down next to Annabeth. He was still standing, frozen almost, expression a mix of confusion and fear. He made no move to unfasten the nectar from his belt, and neither did Hazel, still standing next to him. She looked just as shocked.

“She can’t have nectar, she’ll die,” Piper said. Looking back down at her, Perseus was almost surprised to find bewilderment on her face. He’d expected anger, but maybe that would come once she understood. Jason didn’t react at all, or if he had Perseus hadn’t seen it. 

“No, she won’t,” Perseus said. The words were coming easier now, maybe fueled by desperation, or maybe just because the initial seal had been broken. There was no going back now. 

“She’s a half-blood. She’ll survive it— she needs it.” 

“She’s mortal,” Jason said, somewhat forcefully. 

“No, she’s not—” Perseus started, but he never got the chance to finish. 

“Of course she is,” Piper insisted, “She is mortal, she’s said so a hundred times, why— why would you say that?” 

Tears were starting to pool in Piper’s eyes. Jason was finally starting to look scared, or at least Perseus thought so. He’d never had much luck reading Jason’s emotions before, but he could at least tell that something in his expression had changed. 

Perseus looked back down at Annabeth. Her chest seemed to rise less with each passing breath, and his own felt like it was shortening with it. He could sit here and argue with Jason and Piper all day and they still wouldn’t believe him— not without her word. 

Or not without the whole truth.

There was no time to be delicate about it. He was going to have to tell them everything, explain everything.

He made a silent apology to Annabeth before speaking again. 

“Because she lied to you,” he said, looking back up, “She thought her mother was Minerva, she didn’t see another choice. Can I have the nectar now, please.” 

Perseus reached out desperately, ignoring the shock on Jason and Piper’s faces, but Fai still didn’t move. He was frowning, confused. 

“But Minerva—” Fai started, hesitating like he wanted to take a step back. 

“That’s not possible,” Jason cut it, shaking his head, “Minerva, she can’t—”

Perseus bit back a curse. That had been the wrong move, the wrong calculation. They all clearly understood the implication of what Perseus had just said, and it seemed to be bothering them exactly as much as Annabeth had predicted. He wished more than anything that Annabeth was here and awake— she would have known exactly what to say, which risks to take and which secrets to hold back. But if she were awake, Perseus wouldn’t be in this gods forsaken mess in the first place.

He felt his hand not holding Annabeth’s tighten around Riptide. 

“No,” Piper said, shaking her head violently, “No, she can’t be, that’s— that’s insane. You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Perseus said, finally standing, Annabeth’s limp hand falling out of his. It almost physically hurt to let it go, but they were out of time. He held out his free hand to Fai, the other still gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Give me the nectar. Now.” 

Something in Perseus’s expression must have been convincing, because Fai gulped, his hand shakily moving towards the pouch still fastened to his belt. Hazel just watched, her expression blank and unreadable, though her eyes followed the movement of Fai’s hand, her sword steady by her side. 

“No,” Piper said, standing now too, putting herself between Perseus and Fai. Her knife was in her hand, still bloodied from the previous battle, “You can’t give that to her, she’ll die.” 

Fai stood, paralyzed, the pouch of nectar still in his hand. Perseus couldn’t bear to look down at Annabeth again, to know if he was already out of time. 

Perseus considered telling Piper that Annabeth had already had it, but he had a feeling that would just make matters worse, add more confusion to the already chaotic scene. Instead he took a deep breath, trying to push down the insistent panic in his throat. 

He didn’t know what to say to Piper, but he didn’t have to. Jason said it for him, standing up just like the rest of them.

“She’ll die without it, Piper,” Jason said. His voice was tight, expression unreadable once more, but he seemed to have made his own calculation, and he’d decided that trusting Perseus was their only hope of getting Annabeth out of here alive. 

“Not like that, though,” Piper said, her voice wavering. She was looking back down at Annabeth, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “You said mortals can’t drink it, you said they’d— they’d burn, she can’t die like that, she can’t—”

“Or she won’t die at all,” Jason countered. He was looking at Perseus, like he was trying to search for something. Perseus suddenly got the feeling that this was not as much news to Jason as it was to Piper. 

“She’ll live. She needs it to live,” Perseus said, holding out his hand yet again.

Piper gave Perseus one last look, like she was still considering stabbing him right in the stomach. Then she allowed herself to be pulled away by Jason, her knife subtly confiscated seconds later. She almost seemed not to notice, still staring at Perseus.  

Fai, still statue-like, suddenly came to life, handing the pouch to Perseus, who took it carefully and quickly. He lowered it to her mouth, cradling her head against his knees as he poured the golden liquid into her mouth, letting it trickle down her throat. There was still a mouthful left in the pouch when he finished, but he used more than maybe he should have. It was hard not to when she was so weak— so close to not breathing at all.

For a couple of agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then Annabeth gave a shuddering gasp, color flooding back into her cheeks. Her eyes didn’t open, but Perseus could already see her breath returning more fully, could feel her heartbeat growing stronger beneath his fingertips.  

Perseus almost choked on his relief. He half wanted to burst into tears— he could feel them rising in his throat, an uncomfortable lump forming there. But he couldn’t afford to lose control, not yet. 

He looked up at Jason and Piper, still standing over the scene, still with Jason half-holding Piper back. Jason had a grim look of understanding on his face, Piper looked like something had broken inside of her. 

“I don’t understand,” she muttered, tears shining in her eyes. They looked darker than Perseus had ever seen them, irises almost as black as her pupils. 

“What did you mean before, when she said she thought her mother was Minerva?” Jason asked, his eyes finding Perseus again. They were steely blue as always, though something in them now felt more intense, like lightning about to strike. 

Perseus considered lying, making something up to explain the discrepancy. But he had a feeling Jason wouldn’t take well to mistruths, and he had an even worse feeling that Jason would know if he was lying.

“She… she believed that for a long time. That’s why she didn’t tell you. But her mother isn’t Minerva at all, it’s— it’s Athena.”

Piper didn’t seem to comprehend his words at all, just stared at him with the same broken disbelief as before. But Perseus could see the subtle flashes of understanding in Jason’s expression. 

“So she’s Greek-born. Like you,” he said. 

“Yes,” Perseus confirmed, “Athena was different. The way she had children with mortals, it was different. No oath was broken.” 

Greece was different too, Perseus thought to himself, bitterly. Even if it had been broken, they wouldn’t have killed Annabeth over it.

Jason gave him a strange look at Perseus’s words, one Perseus couldn’t quite decipher. But then it straightened, hardened. Formed back to the blank one Perseus couldn’t quite read, except that now he almost felt like he could see twinges of anger there, pressed beneath the surface.

“We need to get out of here,” Jason said, a clear indication that the conversation about Annabeth was over. Perseus couldn’t help but agree with the statement, even if Jason’s reaction worried him.

Piper still looked borderline catatonic. Hazel had a grim expression on, Fai still a shocked one. 

Perseus had a distinct feeling that Annabeth’s fate wasn’t set yet, and that it wouldn’t be until she woke up.  But for now, for right now, he didn’t care. She was alive, and he intended to keep her that way.

#percabeth #UFS

[starlightshadowsworld]

This one's for you @number-zc104-violet

Leo smiled as he held Jason's hand. The other squeaked in suprise, but took Leo's hand with a smile before resting a head on him.

Leo chuckled, ruffling his hair and Jason slumped happily in his arms.

You could take the wolf out of a camp but couldn't take the wolf out the boy.

It embarrassed Jason but Leo adored it. He smiled, leaning down to kiss Jason's lips.

... Which were suddenly stone cold.

Leo jumped back in suprise, and concern. Jason lifted his head, and suddenly Leo noticed he was pale.

Like a ghost.

"What's wrong Leo?" Asked Jason, eyes opening revealing blank blue eyes.

Nothing like the sparkling sapphires Leo had fallen for.

"Jason... What's going on?"

Jason smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, it wasn't gentle nor kind. "What do you mean, this is exactly how things are meant to be. Don't you love me like this, Leo?"

Leo shook his head "no... No I don't want this... Please Jase your scaring me."

Jason paused, tilting his head to the side. "You wanted this...why else would you kill me."

Leo froze, stumbling backwards as Jason got up on shaking legs.

It was than Leo saw the spear.

It was lodged in Jason's chest, plunged through his back and was bleeding freely. It made Leo's skin crawl but he couldn't look away.

"You did this to me Leo."

"No... No... Jase, I didn't!" Begged Leo, begging him yo believe him.

"Seven Half-blood's shall answer the call." Hummed Jason, reciting the prophecy that had burned itself into Leo's brain."

"Please..."

"To storm or fire the world must fall."

"Stop..Please"

"An oath to keep with the final breath."

"Jase..."

"And foes bear arms to the Doors of death."

Jason frowned putting a hand onto the spear "to storm or fire... The world must fall." He looked back at Leo "it was you...but you left. You left me... You promised you wouldn't..."

Jason was sobbing, black inky tears falling from his cheeks.

Leo wanted nothing more than to brush them away.

But he was frozen.

He was the fire.

He was the fire that caused the Gaea to fall.

"You left me... You left me" repeated Jason, everyone had left Leo... Everyone had left Jason.

And he had promised... And he had failed.

"I'm sorry."

Jason sniffled, his sorrow turning to anger "you did this!" He cried, and in one swift move pulled the spear from within him.

Leo screamed at the sight of Jason's bleeding form but Jason didn't even wince.

"You just had to run didn't you? Because that's what you do, you can never face your fears, never face the consequences. No you just have to run and let me clean your messes."

Tears fell from Leo's own eyes.

"No... Jase..I...you have to believe me."

Jason glared, it pierced Leo's heart.

The wolf stare in all its glory.

But never had Leo been on the receiving end of it.

"You ran from death so he came for me. You ran so I took your place..."

Jason cupped Leo's cheek, making him face him. Making him see just what Jason had become.

What Leo had done.

"Was your mother not enough that you had to kill me too?" Whispered Jason. "Will you take Percy next? Piper? Drag them down here with me?"

"No!"

Leo screamed, bolting upright in bed.

It was a dream... It was just a dream.

Leo curled up into a ball, he caught sight of the picture of Jason on his wall.

And broke down into sobs.

#jason grace #leo valdez #valgrace #I tried #heroes of olympus #toa spoilers

[byima]

California Dreaming pt 3

Shout out to Tim Cook, the most boring commencement speaker like, ever. You’ve inspired PJO fanfiction. I am sharing this in smaller portions because I’m incapable of working on large text documents. Part 4 coming soon. Read full story on AO3

3 weeks later:

“…it is an honor to welcome you all to New Rome University's 125th commencement ceremony…”

Annabeth inhaled, steeling herself, taking it all in, then she exhaled in a loud breath. The morning was too bright, her brow pinched as she squinted at her surroundings, and the five-story arena they’re all crowded into seemed to gleam more than usual. It was enough to make her head ache. 

She was in a Coliseum for gods’ sake. Because of course the arena in New Rome was modeled after the famous structure. The Greek in her wanted to wince at the on-the-nose mimicry. The architect in her was impressed by the modern adaptation and the homage to classic details. She had already committed to being on her best behavior, but the whole morning was shaping up to be a bit much. Nonetheless, neutral expression was her goal, as the Chancellor gave his welcoming speech.

“You all join thousands of scholars, authors, scientists, leaders, innovators, and thinkers in a centuries old tradition…”

It’s just… it wasn’t supposed to be this hot in the bay. But the sun was strong today, so much so that Annabeth found herself wishing she'd had Sally’s foresight and donned a wide brimmed hat like the ones her boyfriend’s mom and sister were sporting. Instead she sat in the cement stands using two programs as a visor, every now and then checking the status of the red flush blooming on Paul’s forehead and cheeks. And the beads of moisture, gathering incrementally at his temples.

“This is a landmark moment, the culmination of a lifetime of hard work and dedication…”

They’d arrived at the stadium early too, because Sally wanted good seats. The procession of graduates didn’t emerge for another hour and a half after they had settled in the stands. Her friends were spread throughout; Grover, Charles, Silena, Rachel and other Greeks that had made it sitting in a section to her left, Hazel, Nico, Piper, and Jason somewhere high up, to her right.

It was fine. They were here for Percy. And Frank. To celebrate.

That's what she told herself as she unstuck her dress from her sweaty thighs.

“And to all of our graduates, I encourage you to look into the stands. Find your family, your friends, your loved ones. The people that encouraged you, supported you, who danced and shouted and cried with you. Today we celebrate them, too…”

He owes me something real good, she thought to herself, for putting up with all the pomp and circumstance that’s coming with his graduation from this school. Mind on all the ways Percy was gonna make it up to her, she fanned herself with a program and settled back for the celebratory display.

It wasn't all punishing rays and sticky thighs though; the ceremony was touching in moments, electrifying in others. Touching when the procession of graduating students had poured onto the field; several students had broken formation to meet family members hanging at the edge of the stands for a brief embrace. Percy had searched them out in the crowd, spotted them, then blown dramatic kisses in their direction, finishing off with a two-handed "rock on" salute. Electrifying when the announcer prompted each cohort to give a battle cry. That sound, all the voices of graduates bellowing their affiliation, whether they had fought in the legion or had family that fought, accompanied by the reverberating tones of the Roman cornu, struck a note, something she felt in her chest even when the echo had subsided.

But the waiting, and the speakers, some engaging, others that should have never been passed the mic, had Annabeth digging her phone out of her crossbody bag so she and Estelle could occupy themselves.

And then, the final straw; the main speaker took the stage, a big Silicon Valley tech guy and a Vulcan legacy, and, gods above, Annabeth couldn't take it. She fell asleep, the drowsy heat was her blanket, hands folded in her lap and chin tucked into her chest.

After what felt like half a second of shut eye, Annabeth was jarred awake by loud, metallic clangs. Slightly startled, she looked behind her to see a girl, probably in her teens, apologizing as she picked up the water bottle she had dropped. Rubbing her nose tiredly, Annabeth looked to her right, there was Sally, leaning against Paul with her hand on his thigh, as they listened to the speech like the smug, functional adults they were.

Then she looked down, just as Estelle's gaze popped up, green eyes finding her gray ones under the brim of her hat, momentarily pausing her digital fruit popping to gleefully announce, "I saw you sleeping!"

"Yeah," Annabeth cleared her throat. She picked her hair up off of her clammy neck, shook it out, and set it back down. "Can I see my phone?" She searched for Percy's cap covered head as she asked. Bingo. Just as she thought. 

Estelle’s answering “of course” was very polite, but she was reluctant to hand the device over, peering up at Annabeth's face as if to double check if she was serious about her request. Annabeth retrieved the device, clicked out of the game and opened up her messaging app. glancing at the field every other second, then started typing.

A: Percy.

A: Percy.

A: Peeeeerrrrcccyyy.

A: Perseus Jackson.

A: Hey

A: Hi

A: What’s up?

A: Hello?

A: Buenos días.

She watched him jolt, shoulders shifting as he fumbled around for his vibrating phone. A couple seconds later...

P: You woke me up

A: I know. I could see your head drooping. I’m trying to save your neighbor from a drool stain on his gown.

P: Har har, nice one haven’t heard that before not.

P: Are you telling me you’ve managed to stay awake for this whole speech?

She took a moment to respond, she could lord this over him, falling asleep at his own graduation ceremony, but honesty is the best policy or whatever, and it’s actually hilarious how absolutely, horrifically, indubitably  boring  the selected speaker is.

A: No. I was knocked. The girl behind me dropped her hydroflask and woke me up.

P: This feels illegal.

P: I thought I was done sitting through lectures.

A: You’re almost there. You got this.

P: No. I’m not gonna survive this. 

A: Very dramatic.

P: Tell my family I love them.

A:  😒

P: And I’ll miss them.

P: We had a great run .

A:  😒😒😒😒😒

P: Maybe you could send a hot pic? 

P: One final act of kindness? 🥺

P: Make-a-wish style?

A: That’s your dying request?

P: Yup. 

P: Boobies maybe?

P: A pic I haven’t seen before?

She scrolled through her camera roll.

P: I was joking.

P: Sort of. Not really.

P: Please don’t do anything reckless.

She sent him a picture.

P: Holy shit.

P: I’m awake.

P: Have I told you I love you today?

Annabeth laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear before she brought her screen up to type her response.

"Sweetheart, I’d like to assume that you aren’t the reason Percy is openly texting during his commencement ceremony."

Annabeth’s head jerked up and to the side as she hastily locked her phone.

There wasn't a single adult that Annabeth adored as much as she did Sally Jackson-Blofis, but also maybe feared a little bit? It was the mother of her boyfriend (future mother-in-law?) thing. Sally loved her like one of her very own, but on the topics of misdemeanors, misbehavior and all the other ways she could be corrupting Sally's beloved firstborn child, Annabeth lost every bit of her nerve. Blame it on childhood trauma, and her desperation to avoid giving her loved ones a reason not to love her. She'll probably have children of her own and still be looking for Sally's approval.

Annabeth winced in Sally's direction. "Sorry."

Sally didn't appear to be truly bothered as she looked out into the field, "At least he's not sleeping anymore."

P: Why is he yelling now?

P: Does he think yelling will make this any easier to bear?!?!?!

P: Praise Olympus he's finishing I think.

P: So you're ignoring?

P: You woke me up, just to leave me hanging?

P: Cold hearted 😔

P: I won’t forget this

P: mark my words

P: you’ll rue this day

A: We've been busted.

A: Stop texting. Focus on commencing.

P: Busted how?

P: By who?

A: Your mom does not approve

P: Tell her I'd be passed out on the field if you hadn't texted me.

A: No. 

A: You tell her.

The bubble appeared, indicating that he was replying, then it vanished.

Annabeth got a notification of a group text, the group consisting of herself, Percy and Sally.

P: Mom I'd be passed out on the field if Annabeth hadn't texted me.

S: Get off of your phone now 😡

By the grace of the gods, the speaker finally wrapped up his monotonous ramblings. All that was left was the handing out of diplomas and the final address.

The rest of the ceremony passed in an energetic blur. There was a familial spirit in the stadium; people shouting and whistling and blowing horns and instruments to announce on no uncertain terms, 'yes, that's my loved one, I'm proud of them.' She felt it around her, in her. It made her holler for Frank, and whistle for Tobe and Simon, the other graduating seniors that lived in that little New Rome apartment that had been a second home to her. It made her stand up and jump with Sally when Percy's name was called. It made her scream louder and more joyously than she could recall ever screaming in her life.

And then it was done, and everybody was screaming again but also moving.

She turned to see Paul lifting Estelle onto his back as people seemingly began shifting around them at once, more or less in the same direction.

"The parking lot situation is going to be a nightmare," said Paul, worriedly observing the churning crowds.

"No, I can't imagine this small town gets this many people more than once a year." Sally picked up stray programs and their bag of snacks. "If we hurry, we can get out of the parking lot before there's too much of a bottle neck."

They were on the move.

"Can I use the restroom?" This was from Estelle.

Paul and Sally exchanged a look. "Oh sweetie. Is it bad? Do you have to go right now?"

"No, only a little."

"Do you think you can hold it?"

Estelle nodded confidently, one arm tightened around Paul’s neck while the other adjusted the lopsided hat on her head.

"Okay. That's what's gonna have to happen, because I doubt the bathroom lines are going to be bearable." Sally increased her pace, leading them out of the stands. "We just need to grab Percy, we'll meet everyone at the restaurant, Estelle can use the restroom there, and... yeah." She looked back to see everyone's expressions. "Does that sound like a plan?"

Annabeth gave her own confident nod. “I’ll go find him,” she said. 

The group split, Paul, Sally and Estelle making a break for the parking lot, and Annabeth doubling back towards one of the field entries/exits, hunting down Percy's tall form in the outpouring of students shrouded in purple.

Annabeth spotted him, doing one of those handshake hugs with someone she didn’t know, nodding and laughing as they were carried with the flood exiting the tunnels.

She hadn’t even meant to, but she found herself practically running towards him, weaving through a sea of purple figures until she was right there in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck as he picked her up to wrap her in a bear of an embrace. 

“Oh man,” he was chuckling at her enthusiastic display. “I knew you’d find me irresistible with a bachelor's degree.”

Laughter bubbled from her when he started spinning with her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to avoid hitting someone nearby with a flying limb.

He stumbled to a stop and, faces close, they both started speaking at the same time.

“Well I’m glad that’s over with-”

“I’m so proud of you-”

There was a steady thump of drums and harmonic cries of horns and pipes in the background: a celebratory soundtrack. Percy’s cap got dislodged when Annabeth sunk her hand into the hair at the back of his head to hold him in place and plant an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth.

He pulled back slightly after a moment thusly engaged. “You’re gonna make everyone jealous," he breathed with a smile. "Or at least uncomfortable.”

“Who cares?” She brought their faces back together and stroked her mouth over his. He responded immediately, parting her lips with his own and sliding his tongue into her mouth because honestly it was go big or go home and he’d decided that, today, he was entitled to a bit of a display. She had been snacking on oranges throughout the ceremony, not that he knew that until now, when he tasted the tangy story of it in the corners and surfaces of her mouth. He hiked her higher up with his hand on her thigh, her sandal clattered to the cement, and the loss of her shoe was enough to bring them back to reality.

They pulled apart, breathing loud and grinning like mad. Annabeth nodded to her shoe on the ground. Percy shrugged. She stuck her tongue out at him and he darted forward to lick the tip of her nose. There was that invisible string, connecting them, and they were grinning again, they couldn’t look away, they couldn’t help themselves.

She unwrapped one leg from his hips and reached for her shoe with her toes, finally finding the displaced sandal when she broke their connection and dragged her attention from his face to search the floor around them. Once she was properly shoe’d, he lowered her to the cement, adjusting her dress to fall smoothly at her thighs.

"Where’s everyone?" He trailed his hands down her arms and took her hands in his.

"Trying to get out of the parking lot before it becomes unbearable.” She fixed his cap back into place. They were jostled by a passing trio, and Annabeth got immediately shoulder checked by another hustling grad. “Come on," she tugged him forward. "I’m supposed to take you in that direction."

"Lead the way."

They set off, falling into step with each other, his arm wrapped around her waist and hers wrapped around his.

"Jackson! Annabeth!" They saw Frank, Hazel and Nico making a determined beeline in their direction.

The two groups fought their way to each other.

“I’m proud of you Percy,” Hazel fit herself to Percy’s open side for a brief hug. All of them were getting jostled, it seemed forward was the way to move.

“I guess they let anyone graduate these days.”

“Nico!”

Annabeth and Frank embraced.

“Hey guys,” Annabeth reluctantly pulled away from Frank. “Look, we've gotta hurry. Sally and them are pulling out of the parking lot.” She and Percy shared a nod. “And we shouldn’t keep them waiting. But we’ll see you at the restaurant!”

“At the place in Berkeley?”

“Yup! And congrats Frank! See ya there!” She called as they hurried off.

They moved away from the stadium now and headed into one of the main parking lots.

“You see them?” Percy asked.

“No… yes! There they are. White Toyota.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em.”

They jogged across the lot and jaywalked to reach the spot where Paul had pulled over.

Estelle was the first to comment as soon as the door popped open. “I saw you on the grass!” 

“I saw you in the stands,” Percy shot back as he and Annabeth slid into the rental vehicle.

“Congrats Percy. This is a big moment.” From Paul.

Sally was quiet, just looking at him through the rear view mirror with full eyes and a small smile.

“Aw Ma-” This only seemed to escalate things, Sally tearing for real as the car started moving.

“I am so–” she paused, gathering herself. “So proud of you sweetheart. That's all.” 

“Thanks,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek over the back of her seat. “But also please don’t make a big deal about it. This celebration is for you too.”

She made a face like she was really attempting the no-tears thing and touched his hand where it rested on her seat. 

“You’ve grown up so much-”

“Aww ma please-”

“No Percy, stop,” she moved his hand from where it was inching to cover her mouth. “Don’t you put that grimy hand on my mouth- Let me say this.”

He leaned his forehead against the back of her seat.

“All of us know how hard you have worked. I’m not just talking about grades. Both of you.” Annabeth, who had just been watching their exchange, sat up straighter when she was addressed. “You two and all your friends have worked through and survived more than most of the world population will ever survive in their lifetimes and you’re barely above drinking age!” She located some restaurant napkins in the glove compartment before refocusing on Percy, who looked apprehensive at best. 

Cars in front of them honked as drivers struggled with the roundabouts and they weren’t so far from the stadium that they couldn’t hear the faint sound of a voice on the loudspeaker.

“You’re my son-” 

“I'm your daughter!” Estelle chirped from her booster seat, tired of being ignored.

“Yes you are, baby. My rockstar princess.” Sally smiled at the girl.

“You,” she said with emphasis, attention back on Percy, she was not going to let him off the hook, “what feels like just a second ago, were the little boy who asked for blue candy from the shop and tried so hard to carry the weight of the world on his little shoulders.”

Percy turned his head, still pressed to the back of the seat in front of him, and made an exasperated face at Annabeth who made a tight lipped, ‘don't be rude’ expression right back.

“And even though,” all of them rocked as Paul hit a speed bump with a little too much force, “even though you’ve grown a lot bigger and stronger since then, I still see you carrying so much burden and it hurts my heart, it always will.” He shifted up at this, resting his chin on the shoulder of her seat while his hand sought hers out to grab onto.

“But you just did a really big thing for yourself. For  you  .” She tightened her hand around his for emphasis. “And I know you say you did it for me or Annabeth or Estelle, but I know you did this for you. And  that , you choosing yourself, makes me so damn proud.” 

“Ma…”

“My little boy. You are so extraordinary.” She squeezed his hand again. “But you’re also my little boy.”

She looked past Percy to Annabeth. “Thank you for keeping him out of trouble. For taking care of him.”

At this point, Annabeth was emotional too, hugging herself as she blinked away tears. “We take care of each other.”

“I know. He’s a caseload though. You don’t have to lie, I had him for 18 years.”

“I love you Ma. You didn’t have to say all of that.” 

“I know, I just,” she waved a dismissive hand in the air, trying to compose herself. “Big day! Big weekend.” Her hand lowered to impatiently swipe the tears off of her cheek.

Estelle, who had been watching with wide eyes, felt it was time again to intervene. “Don’t cry. It's okay,” her little hand patted Annabeth’s right arm, comforting her in the best way she could. She looked at her mom. “Don't cry mommy. It's okay.”

Paul cleared his throat. “These are good tears Stelle-belle. Happy tears.”

“Okay,” she sat back in her seat, hands under her thighs, only half believing her dad.

Percy turned to his sister and tickled her sides. “You better believe I’m happy. No more school? And I get to come back to New York?” She screeched and pushed his hands away.

“You’re gonna come back with us?” 

He tugged on one of her long, brown curls. “Well, I’m not flying back with you guys. But in about a month, Annabeth and I are moving back to New York.”

“You’re gonna have your room back?”

“No, we’re gonna have our own place.”

“You’ll see us all the time,” Annabeth added.

Estelle gave Percy a long look.

“So are you getting married?”

Paul started chuckling. Annabeth opened her mouth but no noise came out. 

Percy, the smug, sweet bastard, cut his eyes over to his girlfriend and grinned, “Yeah, eventually.”

“My teacher is moving to Texas with his girlfriend and they’re getting married.”

“Well Annabeth and I are gonna live in sin for a bit–”

“Percy! If you don’t… ” Sally, who was giving Paul directions, paused to scold him.

“What’s that?” Estelle sensed a forbidden topic in the air and was on its trail like a bloodhound.

“That means we’re gonna get a dog,” Annabeth succinctly ended the conversation. The look she sent Percy’s way now said, ‘you can shut up.”

#mypjofic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo

[thatonerandomfangirlwhoreads]

Tower Of Nero Spoilers/Rant!! (Part 6)

Okay, so... at the end of the book Apollo (NOT Lester), decides to visit all the demigods of the Great Prophecy + Camp Half Blood. So this is how those visits went (WARNING!! Percabeth, Solangelo and Frazel cuteness overload). Apollo visits all these people in the form of ...you guessed it, Lester Papadopoulos.

Camp Half Blood Reunion

Apollo goes to the big house and has a little chat with Chiron about a “cat” (Bast) and a “severed head” (Mimir) and common problems amongst different pantheons. This may be an opening for a stand-alone book *squeak*!!

Apollo meets Mr. D (whose character was fitfully redeemed, when he decided to give Nico therapy for his PTSD), plays pinochle with Mr. D and loses all the games.

He sits by the campfire with Nico, Will and Rachel. Will and Nico are sitting side-by-side, Will has one arm around Nico, who is twirling a marshmallow on a stick. Rachel informs Apollo that she is going to Paris to study art, while her parents house is being rebuilt. They discuss the voice that has been calling out to Nico and Nico says that it’s a Titan who’s stuck in Tartarus (aka Bob the Titan, aka Iapetus). Rachel has regained her prophetic powers after the defeat of Python and issues them a Prophecy, which only Nico and Will can hear, but not Apollo. That is definitely a set-up for a stand-alone Solangelo adventure in Tartarus. Yippee!!

Waystation Reunion 

The Hunters of Artemis were at the Waystation and their mission to catch the Teumessian Fox. This too may be a set-up for a stand-alone.

We see some great Thalia and Reyna chemistry, where they both playfully compliment each other on being great hunters.

Josephine is teaching little Georgina all about mechanics in her machine shop. Apollo still isn’t clear about whether Georgie is her daughter or not.

Lityerses is overseeing an “elephant visitation program,” where Livia(from Waystation) and Hannibal(from Camp Jupiter) are on some kind of date. Uncle Rick has been reading fanfics and headcanons. It’s official.

Leo, meanwhile, has been indulging in some community service where he teaches homeless kids about shop skills at a local shelter and the kids like him. It’s been hinted that some of the kids are demigods.

Leo calls Josephine “mom,” who just scoffs but looks pleased all the same. She probably thinks Leo is the son she never had and Leo had said in The Dark Prophecy, that Josephine reminds him of his mom.

Calypso is loving regular mortal stuff, and has adjusted to her new life very well. Apollo doesn’t actually get to meet Calypso, because she’s been away all summer to a band camp where she is a counselor. Leo appears to be lovesick for Calypso.

It was also really cute to see Reyna and Leo getting on with each other too (It was surprising because Leo did destroy half of the Senate House when she was Praetor). Reyna was giving him advice on flirting with Calypso and asked him not to call her mamacita, and that he has to have more respect. She explains this strange action to Apollo, saying that Leo grew up without a mom so he never learnt these things, but now he has two great foster moms and a big sister(referring to herself) who isn’t afraid to smack him.

Camp Jupiter Reunion

Apollo visits Camp Jupiter, where he meets Hazel and Frank, who are both praetors after The Tyrant’s Tomb. Apollo says they are the most efficient and respected pair of praetors to ever run the Twelfth Legion.

Hazel and Frank give Apollo a tour of the Camp where they’ve installed more barracks, expanded the thermal baths and are constructing a victory arch on the main road to New Rome to commemorate the defeat of the emperors, Caligula and Commodus.

The victory arch is going to be completely plated with gold, more specifically, Hazel’s gold. As far as they can tell, Hazel’s curse is finally broken and her gold and jewels are finally safe to use or sell, as they please. They did an augury in Pluto’s shrine and it came up favorable. 

Hazel hastened to add that they were not going to abuse this power, but were only going to use it to improve camp and honor the gods.

Hazel says that they won’t spend the money to buy yachts, private airplanes or big gold necklaces with ‘H+F 4Ever’ diamond pendants. Frank pouts in reply to this. This is definitely Frazel cuteness.

 Lavinia Asimov fulfilled her promise to teach the entire Fifth Cohort how to tap-dance. The unit is now feared and respected in the war games for their ability to form a testudo shield wall while doing the three-beat shuffle.

The Jason Grace temple-expansion plan was still moving forward, with new shrines being added every week.

Also...Percy and Annabeth had arrived and taken up residence in New Rome, giving them two months to adjust to their new environs before the fall semester of their freshman year in college.

Annabeth, of course, is going to study architecture and Percy is unsure of his major. Annabeth is taking UC Berkeley’s Environmental design course and dual-enroll in New Rome University.

They reached the touchy subject of Jason’s death. Percy is unable to speak about this topic and Annabeth admits that she cried herself sick.

At the end of this conversation, Apollo uses his godly magic to teleport a plate of Sally Jackson’s blue cookies right into his hands and gives it to Percy.

Piper’s Reunion

When Lester arrives at Piper’s Tahlequah home, he sees two silhouettes on the edge of the roof and one leans over to kiss the other. Apollo gets flustered and switches form to adult Apollo, complete with toga and all. Both of them turn around.

One of the silhouettes, (a girl with short, dark hair and a rhinestone stud on her nose) asks Piper who this dude is and whether her dad has a boyfriend. The girl’s name, we discover, is Shel (Probably short for Shelby, I’m just guessing) and so far is assumed to be fully mortal.

Piper tells Apollo that she’s doing fine and that her dad too, has found some peace. She learns of Jason’s funeral and assures Apollo that he did right by him and will continue to as long as he remembers what it’s like to be human. Then she points at Shel and leaves.

Aeithales Reunion

Apollo was greeted by the Meliai, Meg’s personal troupe of seven super dryads. They took him for an intruder and marched him up to Meg.

Apollo found Meg digging dirt and showing her 11 foster siblings from the Imperial Household, how to transplant cacti. 

Peaches was also in the scene, talking to another young female karpos, who is native to the area.

Meg hugs Apollo and they go for a little walk.

Herophile the Sybil lives in a trailer when she isn’t working in town as a Tarot card reader or crystal healer.

Lugeselwa was in the living room, putting together a rocking chair. She had been fitted with new mechanical arms, compliments of the Hephaestus Cabin.

Apollo offers Meg the reward he had promised to give her when he became a god again. Meg asks for a unicorn, which he conjures out of thin air. They promise to be friends forever and when Meg asks him whether he’ll come back, he replies, “The sun always comes back.”

A/N: Phew!! That was long. Very sorry about that. It took me 3 days to write. If you had the patience to read it, hope you enjoyed it.

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