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cherry-pop-elf · 19 days

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hiya, i was wondering if you could make a headcanon sorta thing with the weasleys and them realising they’re in love with reader

Gasp, that sounds so fluffy. I MUST!

Weasley siblings the moment they realize that they are in love

Warnings: Only really for Bill honesty. I have to make it from his werewolf wounds. So medical gore warning. Bullying as well, with some scared Ron. Because it will involve spiders.

William ‘Bill’

The moment his working eye was able to focus, he was able to see you. See you there. You were fast asleep next to him. Curled up in his side, with your arms tucked in on yourself. That way you wouldnt mess with his bandages and wounds. He was in so much pain, and could hardly breath, but you were there. He was able to see your hands were slightly red, seeming to be irritated. Thats when he noticed the bowl of water on his bedside table. Along with a bloody rag. You must have been busy with washing his fresh wounds, while he was knocked out. You were taking care of him, until you needed sleep as well. That warmed him, as he was clearly taken care of. Especially given where he was. The Wolf Ward. A place for people suffering werewolfism are stayed. People tied to beds, chained, hooked to IV's, near death, already dead, so many cases. Yet.....Here you were. You stayed. You stayed, made sure he was taken care of, and made sure he wasnt alone. You loved him. Loved him so much, despite the risks. Even as far as sleeping in the same bed as him. That was when he knew it. Knew he was in love. His breathing was able to move easier, as he wrapped his arm around you. Hurt like hell, but worth it. Worth it, as he was able to see you smile.

Charlie

"What?” He blinked, as he stared out his bedroom window. Looking down to see you there. “You heard me. I’ll cause a distraction. I know you are packed. Go on and go-!” You called, as he was jaw dropped. He had been arguing with his mother for ages about this. Molly didn’t want him to have such a dangerous job. But of course precious golden child Bill got to be a curse breaker. One would argue is even more dangerous. Despite the letters of people wanting him to work in Romania, his mother refused. Over and over again. Seems like someone had other plans. You. You knew this could be the last time you see him, but you just couldn’t let him rot away in England. So, you hatched a plan. You would distract Molly, and give him enough time to sneak into the fireplace and get to Romania. “You are bloody insane….I like that-“ Charlie had to smile, as you would run around to the front of the house. Leaving Charlie to make sure he was properly packed. While he made sure his dragon hide gloves were inside, he could hear you knocking the front door. The familiar creaks of his mother leaving her room, and heading to the front door. He tossed his bag over his shoulder, and hurried down the stairs. “Where is the floo-?” He hissed. Of course she would hide it. Making sure he couldn’t sneak off. Course, you were smart enough to think ahead. “Oh come in. I’ll fix you something. Poor thing out in the late night cold. Come on-“ The moment she stepped to the kitchen, you ran over to him. Handing him your bag of floo. “Go go-“ You whispered, as he stared into your eyes. His heart never felt so full. “Better promise to visit-“ And before you knew it, he was kissing you. Kissing you goodbye. You were dazzed, only to snap back when the flash of green of the fire place echoed. “What was that-?!” Molly called. “NOTHING-!” You squeaked, with your face flushed. Left Charlie in a sappy smile, as his new chapter begun. With you in it.

Percy

“Leave him alone!” Percy heard you shout, as he was currently being dangled from his ankle. For being a prefect, he sure did not get treated as such. Was ambushed by a gaggle of Slytherins, younger then him no less, and now he was up in the air. Unable to grab his wand, as he just did not have the core strength. Another taunt at him. “Oh? What will you do if we don’t?” A bully asked, as you kept your fists tight. Percy didn’t want you to fight for him, but you were willing to even though you knew you would lose. And lose you did. Hard. Least in the chaos, Percy was able to escape. Running off to get a teacher, and catching them red handed. Needless to say, suspension will not be to light. Now, there you two were. Sitting in the medical wing. Both sharing a bed, as you two sat together. “You didn’t have to-“ He muttered, as he fidgeted with his bandages. “Yeah I did. Someone’s gotta. Bill and Charlie were busy.” You tried to play off, before you felt his hand holding yours. “Still. Pretty stupid…” He grumbled, but you returned the hand holding. “Someone’s gotta be stupid, so you don’t have a stick up your butt.” You smiled, as he rested his head on your shoulder. Comforted, and at peace.

Fred

“Wicked-“ Fred whispered, as the two of you were huddled together. Hidden away in a corner of the Three Broom Sticks, as you two were bonding over the map. Able to just people watch so happily. George had been given detention, and Fred was able to have a reassuring comfort in seeing him on the map. Knowing he wasn’t anywhere dangerous, given what happened to Ginny. It also was comforting to be sitting with someone as well. The two of you just snuggled in the tavern, during a winters day. It was soft. Different from the normal madness he’s used to. It’s different, and he liked different. Different also meant a change in habits. Such as feeling you rest your head on his shoulder. Trying to snuggle closer, to get more warmth. He couldn’t help it, as he wrapped his arm around you. Just you cuddling, and oblivious, as you watched the map. So curious by it, as he was more fascinated by you now. Taking advantage of how distracted you were. Maybe quiet moments were nice. Couldn’t help but rest his head against yours, and take in your scent. A quiet moment. A moment to think, and he was thinking hard. Maybe he wanted more quiet moments like this. Couldn’t help his smile, as you pointed at a name on the map. Making up some speculation on why they were there at this time. Had him laugh, and just melt into the moment. Yeah. He wanted more of this.

George

“George George Georgie Georgie Georgie-!” You just wouldn’t stop shouting, as you were soon crashing into him. Right when he left the shop he was in. Having been helping his younger siblings with getting school supplies. “Hey-! Who says I’m George-?!” He joked, as you didn’t let go. “Because you are actually nice-!” You tease, as he was hugging you back. “Also you have a mole on your neck, Fred doesn’t-“ You whispered. That had him blink, as he reached to said neck. “Ha-! Made you look-!” You giggled so deviously, before he pushed you away. He was cackling though. “You got me, I won’t lie-!” He snorted, as you two were just in giggles. It was so nice. He liked to laugh, and sometimes laughter from someone who wasn’t identical to you was nice. You felt as natural to laugh with as Fred. That’s something special. You don’t come across that easy. He knew you were special, and that simple moment was nice. “George-! Help-!” Ginny called, as she struggled with her supplies. “Coming Gin Gin-!” He would hurry over, with you in toe. Instantly helping, all the same. He couldn’t stop his smile, as he watched you help Ginny out. Shit, he was in love. And he knew it.

Ron

“HELP-! PLEASE! SOMEONE-!” Ron was screaming bloody murder, as he was cowering in the corner of the stone corridor of the courtyard. A decently large spider was keeping him trapped on a bench, and trying to hide his body as much as he could in the corner. He was in tears, as he was trying to hide from the spider. Luckily, you could hear him. “IM COMING RON-!” You shouted, as you ran across the stones. Coming into view, and seeing what was distressing him. He was already expecting you to yell at him for being such a baby about it. You didn’t, but instead you focused on getting the spider away. You pulled out your wand, and remembered what Hermione taught you both. “Wingardium Leviosa-“ You called, and lifted the spider into the air. You then made sure to make as much distance from Ron as you could, and let it escape into the wild. Other side of the courtyard, and outside a window. That way it would return to the forest. Once done, you hurried back. Quick to hold Ron. “It’s ok, it was a big spider. Spiders can be pretty dangerous.” You comforted. Not teasing him, or calling him a baby. Not making fun of him, but actually took his fear seriously. The relief was in his tears, as he held you back. Holding you tightly, as you pet his hair. You understood it was a fear, and fears were serious. He was so relieved. You were his hero, and he owed you for it. His guardian Angel. “Thank you-“ He hiccuped, as you kissed his head. “You would have done the same, shush.” You tease, as you didn’t discount that he can be brave. That was the kicker that sparked something inside of him. He was smiling, as you held him. For as long as he needed. You cared about him, and he was sure caring about you.

Ginny

“Do you think I’ll ever become a Quidditch player-?” Ginny asked you, as you two were busy in class. Was History Of Magic, with Professor Binns. Boring as hell, so it wasn’t like you two were paying attention. “Yeah, doubting yourself?” You asked, as she played with her Quill. “Maybe…” She mumbled, before plopping her head on the table. Ever since that incident in the chambers, she got depressed far easier. Bill said that’s often a side effect of being involved with a long term curse, or being exposed to a Horcrux. Curse breaker stuff, so you didn’t really focus on it. Well, until Ginny needed help. She needed a cheerleader, and like hell you wouldn’t grab your Pom Pom’s and cheer. “You’ll be an amazing Qudditch player. I know it. The best even! You’ll make history.” You beam, as she watched you. Unable to really hear you, as she sighed. So, you did what you’ve seen her brothers do. You hugged her, and refused to let go. “Get off me-“ She whined, but you refused. “I shall suffocate you, until you say uncle-“ You warned, before she started to giggle at you. “Seriously, stop-“ She pleaded, but was giggling away. “Not until you say you are the best quidditch player ever. I mean it, I’m stubborn-“ You warned, as she threw her hands up in defeat. “I yield I yield. I shall be better than the likes of Viktor Krum, even-“ She spoke with sarcasm, but it’s a step. “Nope, you gotta mean it.” You refused, as she giggled again. “Eh, you’re comfy.” She retaliated, as you two ended up in a cuddle bundle. She was able to smile, and mean it. Was hard to do, since that incident. She liked it. Liked how you were able to do it so easy for her. Had her heart all a flutter. Guess that’s another thing she will need to ask her older brothers about. What to do when someone gives you butterflies?

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voltronisanobsession · 7 months

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Heyyyy

Could you write Percy Jackson with a fem s/o who is drum major? (If you don’t know what that is, it’s the person conducting the marching band!)

Percy with a Drum Major Reader

HEEYY!!! Since my sister is in the band at our school, she lowkey kinda helped me with this😍😍

Hope I did you justice pookie, this was new territory for me💋‼️

You’re probably one of the few people that has a life outside of camp LMAO💀

You’ve been doing this for who knows how long, you take a lot of pride in what you do!

When Percy finds out you’re a drum major, he thinks it’s the actual drums (like me lmao) until you explain what you actually do

He really respects your position once he knows what a drum major does. He jokes that he would accidentally mess everyone up with his lack of rhythm hehe

Being a drum major takes a LOT of your time outside of school

He knows you’re pretty serious about your position, so whenever he can, if you’re nearby, he’d probably drop by your school to see you and your band practice!

He loves watching you practice, he’s so supportive and excited when he sees you. It’s like you’re a whole different person when you’re in your zone, so lively and full of energy!

He’s always encouraging you to continue when you begin getting frustrated that you can’t get down a certain toss or routine

He definitely has a cold bottle of water waiting for you when you take breaks too. If he can fit them all in his backpack, he also brings water for your band mates as well

(He actually started carrying two backpacks full of water after Sally found out how much people are in your band, Percy’s poor back lmao)

Everyone at this point knows it’s Percy when he arrives to your practices. They love him lol

I like to think that you all might force him to join you as a drum major for a practice or two

And because of his his demigod genes, he does a pretty good damn job in keeping up with you and everyone else

Don’t get me STARTED on when he actually sees you performing on a field, in front of SO many people

Like this dude is screaming and yelling the loudest, clapping whenever you nail a trick with extreme precision

“LET’S GO! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I KNOW THEM, I’M DATING THEM!”

He’s so loud that you swore you heard him yelling from the bleachers one time LMAO

But alas, because of how demanding your role is, you’ve unfortunately had to miss a year or two of camp

He’d be so devastated if you tell him near the end of the school year that he’d be going to camp without you

“Percy, I have bad news…”

*squints* “What is it?”

“I’mnotgoingtocampthisyear-!”

“NOOOO!”

He promises to send you letters though, like the romantic boyfriend he is😍

A lot of the half blood campers joke about you betraying them for your band camp

But they all know how passionate you are about being the drum major in your band, so they can never bring you down for too long

Honestly, Percy is super supportive of you, he only wants to see you succeed in what you love to do most😔💔

You’re a natural leader on and off the field, and he admires you so much for being able to juggle the life of a half blood and a drum major😫😫

#pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson headcanon #pjo headcanons #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #percy jackson #Percy jackson pjo #headcanons #x reader #Percy pjo

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vivitalks · 3 months

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like a burst of technicolor in a world of black and white

for the prompt "painting nails" on my @jasico-challenges bingo card. guys i am really having fun with this bingo thing have yall heard about this. this shit rules anyway imagine an AU where trials of apollo is a collective hallucination we all experienced and then decided never to speak of again. and instead jason stayed at CHB after the showdown w gaea. okay you are now prepared for the events of this fic xoxo

title from extraordinary magic by ben rector :) read here on ao3

“How come you didn't go to school?”

Fair question, but pretty random.

They're spread out on the floor of Cabin One. When Nico marched in armed with a bottle of nail polish the color of a cloudless sky and insisted on painting Jason's nails, Jason tossed his sketchbook aside. Any activity with Nico is better than drawing shrines alone.

Nico got to work and they descended into easy silence. Jason figured that was for Nico's focus, so he didn't break it, just allowed his mind to wander aimlessly.

When he tunes back in at Nico's inquiry, he sees two nails painted — left index and middle, coated in light blue. Jason has never had his nails painted. He doesn't know if it's always this soothing, but if it is, he can understand why so many people do it.

“You mean instead of staying at camp year-round?”

Nico nods and takes the brush to Jason's next finger. His face of concentration is extremely cute: narrowed eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, one rebellious strand of dark hair he keeps blowing out of his face only for it to fall right back in his eyes.

“You could have,” he says. “You’d only have two years before graduation. Could get a diploma.”

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, but why would I? It’s not like I was getting a formal education before. Praetor was a year-round job.”

Nico hums. He's really very good at this. If the demigod thing doesn't pan out, he has a future as a manicurist.

“Plus,” Jason adds gamely, “I don't exactly have a parent or guardian to enroll me anywhere.”

“I'm sure Chiron would be more than happy to falsify some legal documents.”

Jason chuckles. “You think so?”

“Are you kidding?” Nico snorts. “Percy told me Chiron posed as his Latin teacher for a full year when he was younger. He would love to invent a transcript for you.”

Jason gives this a dismissive laugh so they can put the topic to rest. He thought about trying to go to school, for sure. He spent about six minutes seriously considering it. I could have some normalcy, he'd mused. Be a high school kid. Sure, I don't have any surviving mortal parents, or anywhere to live during the school year, or any money, or any previous course credits, or any documents to prove I'm a real person, but. Those are solvable problems.

Then he’d thought, Or I could stay at camp, and the decision made itself.

Maybe it's bleak to say, but there's nothing for him out there. In the real world. He has no memory of being a baby living with Thalia and his mother, and after that, his whole life was the legion. Training with Lupa was the closest thing Jason had to elementary school. Everything that matters to him — his friends, his family, his sworn duty to the minor gods — starts and ends in camp. His youth is tattooed with the brand of Camp Jupiter. His freedom is a leather necklace tied by Camp Half-Blood.

Why leave?

“I'm good here,” is all he says.

Nico isn't ready to drop it. “But then why stay here? You didn't want to go back to Camp Jupiter?”

Jason raises both eyebrows. “Did you want me to?”

“No!” Nico scowls. “I'm just curious.”

Methodical brush strokes turn Jason's fourth fingernail blue. It's a pretty color; Jason wonders what inspired Nico to choose it. It's probably not Nico's first time painting someone's nails, because he's very skillfully managing not to get any polish on Jason's skin. He has good hands for the job — thin and precise. Careful. Deliberate.

“The plan was really to split my time,” Jason says, just as careful, just as deliberate. “I was already at Camp Half-Blood, so I figured I'd spend a little while here, then a while at Camp Jupiter, and, you know, so on.”

“But…it's been two months,” Nico says.

The unspoken question: why haven't you gone back yet?

“Well, yeah,” Jason says. His own stillness is becoming uncomfortable. If he moves, he risks ruining Nico's artwork, but sitting this stationary isn't in his nature. Like most demigods, he has a compulsion to fidget. It's less noticeable in him — less than, say, Leo — but in moments of extreme stagnancy, it doubles down.

“Are you planning to go back at all?”

It's not an interrogation. At least, Jason doesn't think so. It's not small talk, either. Nico is his friend. This is a friendly conversation. There are no wrong answers here.

“Eventually,” Jason says. “To visit. But…to stay?” He shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

“All your friends are there,” Nico says, and he's still looking down, focused on his task, like this statement is a reflex, requiring no thought.

“Not all,” Jason says, watching him. “You're here.”

That gets Nico’s attention. He looks up. “Me?”

“You're my friend,” Jason says.

“Don't tell me you stayed here just for me.” It comes out like a bad joke. Like it couldn't possibly be true.

“Well…” Jason pauses. “I don't know if that's the only reason, but it definitely helped.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because that's—” Nico stops halfway through painting Jason’s little finger. He gestures like words aren't enough. “That's crazy!”

“You just said I should go to Camp Jupiter because my friends are there,” Jason says, puzzled. “Why is it crazy to stay at Camp Half-Blood for the same reason?”

“I’m one person. Friend, singular. Meanwhile your entire cohort of friends is over in California.”

“Yeah, but…” Jason gnaws his cheek. He has this suspicion Nico won't like any of his answers, then decides he doesn't care. “They don't need me over there. I gave my praetorship to Frank, so I'm officially released from leadership duty, and I don't regret it for a second. It makes no difference to the legion if I'm there or not, except as this— I don't know, symbol of greatness that I…really am not.” He grimaces, examining his semi-painted pinky nail, this half-finished, imperfect thing. “Here, I feel like…maybe it matters if I'm here or not. And not because of who my dad is or my rank or anything, just because…well, we're friends.”

Nico stares. Then he lifts Jason's hand and starts painting again, picking up where he left off. With his gaze trained downward, away from Jason's, he says, “It does matter. To me.”

Jason smiles. He gets the same feeling as stepping outside in the morning into perfect weather — pleasantly, comfortably surprised.

“There you go, then,” he says. “I mean, if you want me to leave—”

“No,” Nico says quickly, then glares as if he's mad about being tricked into admitting he wants Jason to stay. Recovering, he snarks, “If you leave, I won’t have anyone to subject to my nail-polish schemes.”

“I bet Will would let you paint his nails.”

“Will wouldn't let me anywhere near him with any kind of artistic implement, as well he shouldn’t. I would absolutely deface him.”

“Honored that you've elected not to deface me.”

Nico turns a rosy shade of pink. “This time.”

This is that other kind of Nico threat, the kind reserved for friends. For Jason. The kind that, underneath, isn't a threat at all, but a promise.

This time means there will be a next time. That's Jason's favorite kind of threat.

“You're weirdly good at this,” Jason says. Nico has finished his left hand by now and moved on to the right. “Since when is this in your skill set?”

“Bianca,” Nico says. Matter-of-fact, without room to grieve. “A couple nights when we were in the Lotus Hotel, she asked me to paint hers. First time I tried, it was such a mess. She did mine to show me how, so I could learn.”

Jason catches his breath. “Clearly it paid off, ‘cause you're killing it.”

This was something Nico did with Bianca. And now he's sharing it with Jason. That gives Jason a feeling in his gut that's both warm and heavy, like a big dog is curled up in there, taking a sunbeam nap.

“You'll have to do mine after,” Nico says, still no-nonsense. “Black, obviously.”

“I don't have any nail polish.”

“I brought some. Lacy gave it to me. From Cabin Ten. Magical, so it doesn't smudge or chip.”

“I didn't even realize nail polish did that.”

“You have a lot to learn.” Nico nods sagely. “That's okay. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“It is very relaxing. I can see the appeal,” Jason admits. He wiggles the fingers of his finished hand, admiring them. “How’d you land on this color, though? Or was it just a random pick?”

Nico looks strangely at Jason. Some of that blush from earlier returns. “You're…the son of the sky god.”

Jason studies the color. It's not quite sky blue, but close enough. “Huh,” he says, feeling silly for not having made the connection. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Besides,” Nico says, a little quieter like it's not exactly for Jason to hear, but not not for him to hear, either, “it's the color of your eyes.”

That sleeping dog behind Jason's navel starts thumping its tail.

“Oh,” Jason says. He's not sure he could confirm that, but Nico sounds utterly certain. The fact that Nico has spent enough time looking at Jason's eyes that he can pinpoint their exact shade is its own can of worms. For future opening. At a later date. “Well, I like it. It's pretty.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and his fingers press gently into Jason's palm as he continues to paint. “It is.”

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #painting nails #fanfiction #pjo #pjo fic #jason grace #nico di angelo #jasico #jasico fic #fic #my fic #my writing #i never make fic posts like this anymore but like why not #so many of these bingo prompt fills are gonna be short enough to do this with them #so like. executive decision this is what im doing now #do u ever start writing something not knowing where it's going #and then it goes somewhere and youre like holy shit i didnt realize thats where this was going but woah. woah #that was me with when i figured out that the reason nico can paint nails is because of bianca #i didnt write that shit. nico TOLD me that. me and jason learned that information at the same time #which was the exact moment when it became nico dialogue #and i went. oh boy. oh god. oh fuck #side note: this fic is rated g for general audiences because NO SWEAR WORDS! shocked and appalled #who AM i #the big dog in jason's psychological stomach is mrs oleary but i couldnt come up with a reason why he would know who that is #so i couldnt mention her by name #but the ones who know...they know

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tagthescullion · 5 months

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Diplomacy: a Net of Embellished Lies

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus

Rating: G

Summary: Five times Nico lied to the people around him, and one time he told the truth.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

AO3 link

Chapter 3: Graecus

Octavian had seen the commotion at the entrance to camp, but he hadn’t paid much attention. He knew he was to be wary of whichever new recruit they got today. He’d felt it for days already.

Not for the first time, he found himself thinking about that ability of his.

It wasn’t exactly predicting the future. He couldn’t see events with much clarity, but there were feelings he wasn’t to ignore.

He could tell when people were hiding something, and whether they were to be useful to camp. He knew when things were off, and his ancestor, Apollo Medicus, sometimes blessed him with visions and dreams of people’s pasts.

He knew how to press them to keep them in line. And the gods knew this camp needed some control. For years already former praetors had been too lax in their job, letting campers become lazy, and consequently, making Camp Jupiter weak.

He had spent his morning burning offerings to Jupiter, Mars, and Juno, his favourite patrons, hoping for some guidance.

He didn’t trust Jason Grace —an abandoned orphan who didn’t value the power of tradition— nor Reyna Ramírez-Arellano —whose patricide he couldn’t yet prove— to run Camp Jupiter smoothly. But so far, they’d humoured his demands —which weren’t his but the gods’, of course—.

He opted to skip lunch in case the new recruits, a pair of siblings, decided to drop by. Every demigod who seeked to join the legion had to come by the augury. It was the third and final test, after the Wolf and their journey to camp.

His efforts were worth the mild pang of hunger. Around 1 in the afternoon, the two children came accompanied by Gwendolyn and Dakota.

Not a good sign, if the Fifth had unofficially claimed them. These kids weren’t good news for camp, but if there was one true cliche saying it was that it was better to keep your enemies close. In the Fifth, they’d cause mayhem unsupervised.

“Octavian,” said Gwen, entering Jupiter’s temple. “It’s good to find you here.”

Her smile was as fake as teflon, but it was better than Dakota’s open scowl.

“New recruits,” Octavian replied, waving a hand towards the kids. “I knew I was needed.”

The recruits in question looked nothing alike for siblings.

The moment he saw the girl he knew the rumours about the dead returning had been true. She didn’t look like a zombie out of The Walking Dead, but she had a nasty aura that gave Octavian chills.

And yet, the biggest worry was the boy.

Small, pale, possibly not the person most people would single out as the biggest threat, but Octavian knew he wasn’t somebody to mess around with.

He felt like an enemy, and Octavian wondered whether he might be some sort of spy.

Gwen cleared her throat and Octavian realised he’d been staring.

“Yes?”

Gwen gave him a look. “These are Hazel Levesque and Nico di Angelo. Hazel wants to join the legion.”

“But not you?” Octavian asked the boy.

He shook his head. “I’m only here as an ambassador for my father.”

“Pluto,” Dakota clarified when the boy didn’t.

Gods in Olympus, Pluto? No wonder Octavian had felt them as threats, they were a menace. How did two children of Pluto even get as far as to ask for their augury?

Jason Grace, obviously. His socialist insistence that everybody should be given a chance was going to ruin whatever was left of this place after years of neglect and a full blown war.

Octavian raised an eyebrow and hoped it conveyed his distaste. He wasn’t stupid enough to openly disagree with the praetors, so far they had enjoyed a disproportionate amount of popularity. Besides, the boy had called himself an ambassador which made him curious.

“Your father sent you here?” He asked. “Himself, in person?”

Nico nodded. “Yes. Is it really that strange for gods to present themselves?”

Octavian snorted. Even Dakota and Gwen were amused by the question.

“The gods have much more important things to do than visiting their offspring,” Octavian explained slowly, as if he was talking to a dumb dog.

Nico was clearly not amused by his tone, but Octavian was irritated himself about the disbelief in his expression.

“I talk to my father often,” the boy insisted. “I’m sorry you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t consider being on talking terms with the Lord of the Dead a benefit,” Octavian pointed out. “Perhaps you should keep that to yourself.”

All the same, he felt a thread of envy. He was the closest to the gods after all, and none of them appeared in person.

Admittedly, Octavian had never prayed to Pluto, but he didn’t imagine the god was the type to opt for a meet-and-greet.

Did that mean this boy went in and out of the Underworld? It did make sense that he’d picked up his dead sister from there, but Octavian was disappointed in Pluto if he allowed such unnatural bending of the rules.

Nico’s frown deepened, Octavian observed.

“Aren’t you supposed to talk to the gods?” He asked. “You’re an oracle, aren’t you?”

“Oracle?” Octavian scoffed. They had no oracles. If the boy had ever spoken to Pluto for real, he’d know that. Unless of course it wasn’t Pluto he had met. “That’s a very… Greek concept, is it not?”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

Dakota muttered, “Gods, not again.”

Octavian paid no mind to their lack of interest. He was tired of his comrades disregarding the notion of a Greek camp, just like theirs but completely different. He’d make himself heard if it was the last thing he did.

“I’m Italian, not Greek,” Nico said carefully.

Octavian would’ve felt like rolling his eyes himself except that, in his ears, Nico’s tone had sounded guarded.

The boy knew.

Nico di Angelo knew about the graeci! Octavian was sure of it.

But obviously, he’d been clever enough to bypass the praetors. While the two leaders themselves weren’t a foolproof test, Reyna did have those very handy metal dogs. If they hadn’t shred Nico to a demigod kebab, that meant the boy wasn’t stupid.

“Not by nationality,” Gwen surprised Octavian by saying. “The gods have gone through phases, to put it somehow. They didn’t all begin in Rome, most of them had a Greek counterpart.”

“Our augur is sure there’s a Greek division waiting to attack us and destroy us,” Dakota added. He turned to Octavian. “You don’t expect these two to be the vanguard, I hope? They’re a bit… small.”

“I’d have sent a few more than two to defeat the whole camp,” Gwen agreed.

Octavian took a deep breath. He hated these two idiots.

“You think we’re spies?” Nico wondered.

“Are you?”

“No, I’m not here to sell you out to a Greek division.” The boy smiled. He seemed amused by the whole situation. “As an ambassador, my father expects me to gather information for him. In exchange for whatever we can help you with. The praetors and I have come to an agreement, you can talk it over with them, if you don’t believe me.”

“Their opinion matters very little to me,” Octavian stated. “They wouldn’t know a Roman demigod from a Norse one, much less a Greek one.”

“Well, I’m Venetian, not Roman,” the boy shrugged. “In case that matters.”

Gwendolyn suppressed a grin. Octavian felt his eye tick impatiently. He wanted to strangle the boy. He couldn’t stand immaturity.

“Forgive me,” Nico said after seeing Octavian’s expression. “I don’t mean to imply I’m not taking this seriously. If there’s a Greek camp somewhere out there, they haven’t sent me to cause your downfall.”

“Then why won’t you join the legion?” Octavian demanded. “Let me read your augury, and prove me wrong.”

Nico shook his head. “I don’t belong to any camp, Roman, Greek, or otherwise. My father’s servants have trained me and will continue to do so.”

“You could join.”

Octavian turned to Hazel Levesque, who so far had been observing quietly.

“I’m not a people person,” Nico told her. “I don’t belong with the living, I’m better off alone. They’ll love you, though.”

Octavian doubted it, the girl reeked of death. He wondered what it was like, not being laden with the ability to know people like he did.

Regardless, he admired the boy’s ability to shift the focus. Now Gwen and Dakota were bound to lose interest in him, and instead remember they had a task at hand that didn’t include the son of… Pluto? Hades? Octavian would find out, he always did in the end.

Hazel looked like she would keep arguing, but a small shake of her brother’s head was enough to dissuade her.

“All right,” she said, she turned to Gwen and Dakota. “What do I do now?”

“You do nothing. Octavian beheads a teddy, and we find out if you’ll be welcome to camp or not!” Gwen said cheerfully.

“A teddy… bear?” Nico raised an eyebrow. His gaze found the pile of stuffed animals by the corner. “I suppose that’s better than a chicken.”

Octavian’s irritation grew by the second.

“It should be living animals,” he explained. “We’re dealing with gods and that’s the respect they’re owed. But alas, no tradition is safe anymore, so now we use these.” He walked towards the pile of stuffed animals, and picked a horse. Finding any excuse to put some distance between himself, the graecus boy, and the idiotic Fifth Cohort centurions, he said: “Now leave the temple, let Hazel Levesque face her fate by herself.”

The augury, far from discouraging Hazel’s stay in the legion, implied her presence was of utmost importance.

Octavian didn’t tell her that, however. He let her go with a warning that the past had a way of coming back to us.

The discomfort in her face was enough to show she understood he knew about her. She’d undoubtedly tell her untrustworthy brother.

Octavian saw them trot down the hill, content in his knowledge that Nico di Angelo would hesitate to tell his Greek comrades anything if it meant his sister would pay the price of his betrayal.

#octavian pjo #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #gwen pjo #dakota pjo #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #pjo fic #mis fics #tagthescullion #embellished lies

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lunalucykat · 6 months

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RULES: answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions.

Thanks for tagging me @menkhu !!! :) :D

coke or pepsi: my soda of choice is Dr Pepper, but if i HAD to choose between these two then Coke

disney or dreamworks: i really don't know. I don't keep up with these studios anymore. Maybe Disney???

coffee or tea: coffee

books or movies: movies

windows or mac: sorry, born and raised with Macs....

dc or marvel: neither lol. I really don't do superhero stuff, but I GUESS DC if i had to choose

x-box or playstation: nintendo lol

dragon age or mass effect: i've never played either of these so i dont have an opinion

night owl or early riser: born to be a night owl, forced by job to be an early riser... catch me waking up at 4am to go to work...

cards or chess: cards

chocolate or vanilla: chocolate

vans or converse: i own a singular pair of vans, so i guess vans lol

Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: sorry, i don't know what this is in reference to

fluff or angst: why not both? :3c

beach or forest: beach. It's been so long since I've see the ocean, I wanna go back

dogs or cats: dogs

clear skies or rain: Clear skies! I used to be one of those emo teens that would always say rain on this question, but now that i'm in my extreme late 20s I understand the importance of sunshine

cooking or eating out: tough question. SOMETIMES I like cooking, but also most of the times I'm lazy as fuck so I do get carryout a fair amount

spicy food or mild food: mild, my stomach can't handle a lot of spice unfortunately

halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: Boy do i LOVE the aesthetics of Halloween, but Christmas is really the best. I love the lights and warmth and music and food and family during the WORST season (winter. I hate winter so GD much)

would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: a little too hot

if you could have a superpower, what would it be: either invisibility (because i'm a nosy binch that loves dropping eaves) or shapeshifting

animation or live action: i generally prefer animation

paragon or renegade: idk what this is, sorry

baths or showers: showers

team cap or team ironman: could not care less

fantasy or sci-fi: fantasy

do you have three or four favorite quotes, if so what are they: oof! I don't really have favorite quotes. But at the current moment I can almost perfectly recite the whole of Live Action One Piece (not joking lol) There's a lot of talk about believing in yourself and following your dreams which is really nice though. I do also have legit quotes from Octopath Traveler that I like: "Even grown-ups need a good cry from time to time." -Alfyn Greengrass. And then as a more funny quote that I love from Octopath: "O, woe is me, doomed to never realize the full depth of my good looks and charisma!" -Cyrus Albright. Because I am very humble lmao

youtube or netflix: very rare for me to NOT be watching YouTube

harry potter or percy jackson: Percy Jackson

when do you feel accomplished: i guess when i make a joke and people laugh :)

star wars or star trek: I don't have a strong feeling on either of these really

paperback books or hardcover books: hardcover

to live in a world without literature or without music?: i love writing, but i am almost always listening to music. I don't think i could live without it

who was the last person to make you laugh? almost positive it was TJ

city or countryside? small city/town?

favorite chips? i like just plain but salty tortilla chips that i can dip into hummus or queso or what have you

pants or dresses? my favorite thing is to wear shorts over leggings. Pokemon protagonist lookin' ass!

libraries or museums? museums

character driven stories or plot driven stories? character driven

bookmarks or folding pages? bookmarks

Dream job? lol...lmao..... YouTube/ Twitch streamer lol.

What gives you comfort? unwinding in my room. late night chats with TJ. my dog. watching whichever show i'm really into at the moment (rn it's One Piece)

what are some of your favorite song lyrics? Oof... Like in general? Because I know there are songs I like to sing just because they're fun to sing... But I don't really know if i have any songs where the lyrics really jump out at me in a meaningful way. Well, okay. All of the Simple Plan songs I have meant something to me for sure as a little emo teenager, but, hmm.... For current me? Dreams by the Cranberries has been one of those songs where I really just soak in the vibes and listen to it, so I'll give you a nice lyric from that. "Oh my life/ is changing every day/ in every possible way. And oh my dreams/ it's never quite as it seems/ never quite as it seems"

Do you believe in ghosts?

Tagging: Literally anyone who wants to do this!!! Seriously! It's pretty fun! But in order to try and keep it going (cause I know almost no one will just do it if I don't tag them specifically, and i Get It) But I'll tag @bitter-like-coffee, @pawelcyril, and @electric016

#kat rambles

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thepjoarchivist · 1 year

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Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

At this point, I can’t blame Percy for ditching Grover at the earliest opportunity. Grover isn’t being a good friend and he’s freaking Percy out without telling him anything. I can firmly say that I do not like Grover.

Percy lives in an apartment on East One-hundred-and-fourth and First. The only housing I can find in that area on Google Maps is a low-income shelter. I wonder if there was something there in 2005 when this book was published or if RR just chose it at random.

A quick rundown on Sally Jackson, Percy’s mother. Her parents died in a plane crash and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care about her. Sally’s dream was to be a novelist and she worked throughout high school to save money for college, but her uncle being diagnosed with cancer put Sally’s life on hold. She dropped out of high school her senior year to take care of him and when he died, she had nothing.

Oh! We get to hear about Percy’s dad now. Okay, so it seems that the relationship was a secret affair and Percy’s father probably has another family hidden in the wings. They weren’t married and they didn’t tell anyone about the relationship. His dad is also rich and important, but one day he sailed off and never came back. Sally has no photos and it makes her sad to talk about Percy’s dad. She said he’s not dead but he’s lost at sea. And she won’t tell Percy his name.

Hmm…I’m going to have to think about that one but it all seems very suspicious.

The next paragraph says that Sally worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her GED, and raised a child full time by herself. That’s a lot of work for one girl fresh out of high school with no prospects. I hope this man at least left some of his riches with Sally but it doesn’t sound like he did.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk.

It’s interesting that Sally kept her maiden name when apparently she liked this guy enough to marry him. And despite what Percy has said about Gabe thus far, he seems to have liked him for at least a little while.

Percy is so sweet for apologizing to the readers about the nickname he used for Gabe; Smelly Gabe. Gabe is said to smell like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts. I’d imagine that doesn’t smell very good.

I already suspected that the stepdad, Gabe, treated Percy badly based on some of the ways he behaves around authority figures. Now it’s confirmed that Gabe treats Sally badly and that he and Percy do not get along. Unfortunately, it’s very common for predators and abusers to be kind at first and flip personalities when they’ve got their prey under lock and key. A single mother with a young child, struggling to get by financially, who perhaps had feelings for this person at one time, would find it very difficult to leave their abuser in this situation.

Their apartment is little. I wondered how they were able to afford an apartment in NYC but if it’s small that kind of makes sense. Percy walks into a bad situation; Gabe is playing poker with strange men while smoking cigars and surrounded by garbage.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, “So, you’re home.”

Oh no.

(I'll be honest, readers, I had to stop reading for a long time because I skimmed what was coming and it hurt a lot).

I think it's important that Percy uses "my mom" instead of just "mom" when he talks about Sally to Gabe.

I can't blame Percy for feeling nauseous about Gabe's cigar smoke because cigarette smoke does the same thing to me. It sounds like Gabe is a real piece of work.

Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our “guy secret.” Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out.

The term "guy secret" when referring to an adult man and a preteen makes me sick. Are we going to find out that there's sexual abuse as well as physical abuse?

I looked up the phrase 'punch my lights out' and it means to 'hit someone repeatedly very hard.' I don't like this.

Based on what Percy said earlier, I think it's safe to assume that Percy works summer jobs specifically to pay for his stepdad's gambling addiction. So all of this adds up to Gabe being the worst kind of person in the world.

Gabe rarely goes into work but is still collecting paychecks, so really there's not even an excuse for this type of behavior. Gabe said that Sally is working, too, so that's two (and a half) incomes. I guess it makes sense that they can afford an apartment.

Oh, Gabe is smart. He knows exactly how much Percy's trip cost. Since Percy is selling candy from his dorm, I don't think that Gabe gave him any money for the trip since he said Percy "probably paid with a twenty." Gabe has also surrounded himself with men who don't care that he abuses his wife and child.

My heart is breaking for Percy.

“Your report card came, brain boy!” he shouted after me. “I wouldn’t act so snooty!”

Percy is not acting snooty. He's being very reasonably well behaved considering everything. We can also add verbal abuse to the list of Gabe's transgressions against Percy.

I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn’t my room.

Percy doesn't even think of this space as his bedroom. He spends nine months at boarding schools and doesn't even have a place that feels like home or his for the other three months. Oh, my heart. I don't like this chapter.

Gabe’s smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady’s shears snipping the yarn. But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak.

The lifestring being cut still affecting Percy this much must mean that it belongs to him, right? Percy feels like he's being hunted by someone - or something - and I wonder if that has something to do with his upcoming death.

There's some whiplash between Percy working himself into a panic attack and Sally coming home.

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted. My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room.

This is so cute.

Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She’s got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old.

How old is Sally? Based on what Percy said about her, I think that she had him fresh out of high school.

Sally doesn't say anything about Percy being expelled. She doesn't even ask how he feels about it. Percy says that she doesn't seem to care that he got expelled. How much does she care about his schooling, period?

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

Does Percy react like this because he lives in a society where men aren't allowed to have feelings or does he react like this because he's used to swallowing his feelings? Both, I think.

I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner.

Mr. Brunner and Grover don't deserve your sentimentality, Percy. They tried to make you think you were insane.

Percy doesn't want to tell Sally about anything even remotely upsetting. I'm starting to think that Gabe has a bigger hold on Sally and Percy than I thought and that Percy hasn't breathed a word to Sally about what Gabe does to him.

Sally surprises Percy with a trip to the beach in Montauk and that they're going to stay for three nights. They haven't been there for two summers because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. Apparently this is a bribe to get Percy to be nice to Gabe. I have feelings about this but I don't know what they are. Everything about this chapter is like being punched.

Of course Gabe doesn't want them to go. I hope they get to.

Wait a dang minute. They pay for a two-bedroom apartment, private boarding schools, and a gambling addiction...and still have money leftover for a clothing budget? A clothing budget big enough that Sally can rent a cabin on the beach? But Gabe is just the manager of an electronics store and Sally works at a candy store. There's no way. Not even in 2005.

Percy wanting to kick Gabe in the balls is so valid. Me too, Percy. Me too.

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes - the same fear I’d seen in Grover during the bus ride - as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

Is Sally part of the supernatural world too?!

They have a car too? In New York City? It's a '78 camaro. I Googled it and the price ranges from $4,000-18,000 depending on the condition of the car. How are they affording any of this?

Gabe once again insults Percy by calling him "brain boy" and gets one more threat in before Percy and Sally leave.

Percy makes a hand gesture meant to ward off evil and it works on Gabe. I guess that means it doesn't just work on the supernatural, but also on average humans. Unless Gabe is a literal monster.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.

I don't think that Sally is human. She's a little too strange. When she was questioning Percy, Sally was also said to have compelling eyes.

This - along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - was proof that she wasn’t totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.

There are a lot of reasons that women don't take their husband's last names. Maybe she's honoring her dead parents by keeping their last name alive. Maybe she wants to have the same last name as her son. Or maybe she just doesn't like it. If I was marrying an Ugliano, I'd also keep my own last name no matter how in love I was.

Percy, I think you mean that you got your rebellious streak from your mother.

Percy asks about his dad.

“He was kind, Percy,” she said. “Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes.”

Percy looks like his dad. It hurts that when Sally says he would be proud of Percy, Percy disagrees. He has no confidence at all.

Oh dang. It's weird that Percy has gone twelve years without knowing that his dad didn't even meet him. I can't believe it's never come up before this. Percy, it isn't stupid to be angry that you were abandoned before you were born. Zero sense of self worth.

Sally says that she and Percy's dad were only together for one summer. Which means that she conceived him during the summer and his birthday would be between…February and April. I think if Sally was far enough along that Percy's father knew, then she probably got pregnant early in the summer and therefore his birthday would be in February. He's a pisces!

Everyone calls Percy 'honey.'

Percy's thoughts are so easy to follow when he goes from being angry at his dad for abandoning him to asking if Sally is also going to abandon him at another boarding school. For all of the praise that Percy has heaped upon her, he really thinks Sally doesn't want him around.

Sally tells Percy that sending him away is for his own good, reminding Percy of that gaslighter, Mr. Brunner. Percy really can't have any good adults in his life, huh?

Percy's immediate assumption is that he's not normal and based on the thing with Nancy, I'd say he's right about that. Personally, I feel that 'not normal' is a good thing.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing, Percy. But you don’t realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you’d finally be safe.”

First of all, what does she know?

Second of all, upstate New York is not far from New York City. Someone please get this woman a map.

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I’d tried to forget.

What is going on with Sally???

The man who stalked Percy on the playground sounds like a cyclops. I think they're the only creatures from Greek Mythology with one eye. I think Percy is so used to adults growling at him that he no longer has the instinct to run away and that's why he didn't run when Mrs. Dodds started growling.

I can't believe that Percy strangled a snake to death in his cot at preschool but was left alone long enough that it took his mom coming to pick him up before anyone noticed. If only you guys could see the face I'm making at the thought of Percy playing with a dead snake for possibly hours.

Percy is now saying that every school he goes to, he has to leave because something unsafe and creepy happened but in earlier chapters he says it's because he kept failing. Maybe Sally is alright with the expulsion because she knows it means something weird and creepy happened to Percy?

“I’ve tried to keep you as close to me as I could,” my mom said. “They told me that was a mistake. But there’s only one other option, Percy - the place your father wanted to send you. And I just… I just can’t stand to do it.”

Sally just said that she had to send him far away, now she says she's trying to keep him close? Even if she didn't, Percy has been going to boarding schools his whole life so she hasn't even seen him for most of the year. In fact she's missed a lot of his life so far. I wouldn't call that keeping him close.

A summer camp? Now Percy is going to be gone the whole year.

Percy wants to know more but Sally looks like she's going to cry so he just lets it go. I see that's another thing he inherited from her.

Prophetic dreams about an eagle and a horse. If this was Norse Mythology, I'd think he was dreaming of Odin and Loki…but since it's Greek, I'm guessing that it's Zeus and Poseidon. Love the implication that Zeus is going to blind Poseidon.

Percy wakes up to find it's actually storming. Thankfully the gods aren't actually duking it out on the beach outside Sally's love shack. Are Sally and Percy sharing a bed?

Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Something is coming.

Grover?!

Ha! I knew it! Grover is a monster! Well, technically I guess he's a nature spirit. But satyrs have permanent erections and Percy is twelve and Grover is a liar and Percy is twelve so I feel like he's probably a monster of some sort. Grover has also been stalking them. What a creep. I do not like him at all.

Grover berates Percy for not telling his mom about the monster coming after them but how is Percy supposed to know there's a monster coming after him? Are the Fates running after Percy or something because that's the only incident Percy has had with the supernatural that day. Aside from Grover.

Having watched movies with fauns and satyrs in them, I wouldn't say that any of them limp when they walk (except maybe Pan, from Pan's Labyrinth but he's older than trees and I feel like he gets a pass). It feels…uncomfortable that Grover was faking a disability.

Percy, Sally, and Grover get into the Camaro to outrun something that may or may not be the Fates. I've got the feeling that the Camaro isn't going to make it to the end of the book.

Well, this was a heavy chapter. Hopefully the next one is easier and I get it out sooner.

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #riordanverse #the lightning thief #percy jackon and the olympians

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samrieimg · 2 years

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I'm shook by your reading habits. Not in a bad way, just surprised you don't really read Wilbur/Schlatt or Wilbur/Quackity. Majority of Dre/grge in makes me cringe bc they make them both OOC. Sounds stupid of me to say because all fanfics shoehorn their personalities in some way. I usually stick to Wilbur stories. I think when I gave a chance to your DNF series, it was the only enjoyable portrayal out there. What sort of DNF stories/tags do you enjoy? Are you disappointed by the offerings out there?

Oh yeah, I'm disappointed a lot. I'm picky.

Special interest rant below >:). Long af.

Color code for sections.

How i read fanfic

Manhunt D/NF

C!DN/F

XDN/F

......How I read fanfic......

What I do is go through a tag, choose random filters based on the day, search by bookmarks then go through 8 pages, opening fics in a new tab I might read. Then, go through what I collect and see if I'm hooked. Usually out of 15 fics chosen I'll find 1 or 2 I'm like "hey, this was pretty okay." Rarely ill find something I'm like "gonna subscribe and camp this."

Manhunt D/NF

I do love DN/F Whump. If no one is hurt, it's hardly as fun.

I'm not going to lie, Manhunt!Dreem is my favorite. I really love him being a scary, but still funny and morally grey wisecracking man, but finding a fic where they don't make George a woman in a George disguise is hard. Why did you castrate him? Where is his feral energy, rude tone and the fact he's a 25yo man, writers?! If an author doesn't let George sound just as dumb as Spnap and half as cocky, I click off. The amount of authors writing themselves as George is unreal.

DSM/P Verse C!D/NF

I love XDN/F and love c!D/NF, but can't ever find fics I like of either.

So, with c!DN/F, I really search for a fic honestly written by what the fandom terms "apologist", but also, it can't defang him. Dre has to be bloodthirsty, but likable and charismatic. He needs to care, but do an awful job showing it. He has to be full of character!

But whenever I find fics that nail him, they fail at Gog or vice versa. Half the time I see "Gogy fixes him :)" No, Gogy does not fix him. Gogy is also just as messed up.

There is not an ounce of c!Gogy lore I've seen that would make me think he's not going to kill someone too. Have we all been watching the same man? He kidnapped Michael with Surpnurp and that was the funniest shit ever and the fact it got retconned I'm so sad about. C!Gogy is a nightmare. He's batshit, he's unhinged, he likes chaos. He's cold and standoffish to everyone outside his friends and a gremlin. But he also cares so much. Underneath that he's caring in odd small ways. He's going to steal your flower garden and then come back with a sandwich, hand you half, and then tell you a story about a cat he saw in the woods. He's lazy and a coward, yet cocksure and a persistent stubborn ass when he wants to be.

Yet fics write him like a victorian woman pining at the window for their love. Locked in a prison. How sad. He's going to criticize c!Dre for his wrongs? No. He's going to criticize c!Dre for not getting him armor and helping him and dethroned him and not giving him attention.

A fic I crave is a villainous c!Q (that's still sympathetic, and clearly written morally grey) killing c!Gogy. I want c!Q to taunt c!Dre. I want c!Q's obsession with power to push past his obvious love for his friends and I want there to be casualties. I want c!Gogy to be a price. I want his blood.

XD/NF Ramble

Now XDN/F. Oh man. My old writing long before DSM/P was in a fandom with Greek-like gods and I found myself pouring hours, and hours, and hours into researching religions as a teen. I came away with so many stories of gods who always were too inhuman, too powerful. Even out of love humans were hurt. Like many kids, I'd read Percy Jackson, but I saw a world of possibilities. I saw stories of humans falling in love with gods ending tragically.

But I haven't EVER dropped my obsession with stories of gods' and their human followers. I am so deeply in love with the concept.

But I fell in love with XD/NF because it was what I'd wanted, and honestly, George's lore eps are a HELL of a lot like the old media. You have to make sense of what's canon and not yourself and it's such what I wanted.

But...one AO3s filtering is limited by what people tag, and XD/NF isn't separated from D/NF in searches. And the fandom largely discards c!Gogy...just like they did for well...my old blorbo.

But anyway. I do actually have a super vested love for DN/F. Mostly AU fantasy verses, but I've read that one popular more RPF-esque one.

But the fandom lets me down ;-;. Mostly how they wrote Gogy.

#long post #author rambles

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smol-warrior-1258 · 4 months

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Sooooo I was gonna hold off until the full season was done, kinda give the TV show time to play out as an adaptation instead of being distracted by the alterations being made for this version. Because alterations are okay! I think if you're going to adapt anything from one medium to another it should be to express the content in a new way based on the different limitations & possibilities of one medium vs another. You can't do PJO [the TV show] exactly as written in PJO [the books] - it doesn't work and shouldn't be the point - and I think the show is doing a great job to consciously avoid that trap. (My personal opinions on how several first-person narrated book-to-movie adaptations have fallen somewhat flat is a post for another time.)

And so, I was planning to wait. This is a franchise I hold very dear to my heart and have cared about for more than a decade, I recognize that I will be protective about how a story like this is being shown to a whole new generation and may influence them. I wanted to see how the shifted motivations, etc would progress objectively even if I couldn't see how it would get its way back to the story I know from the book. Let this new version run its course and go from there. You can absolutely shift some things and let the narrative move on a slightly different path without losing the heart of it - it's something fanfiction has really helped me embrace despite my initial impulse to bristle at changes to the stories I love.

But I just watched ep 3 and . . . I'm frustrated.

Everything just feels so shallow?

And I want to be clear: I don't mean bad acting. There are a lot of moments where I enjoy the delivery and the emotions the cast are putting out, and their portrayal is a separate thing from what they are portraying.

I am talking about the plot & the relationships & the characterizations & jfc the PACING. I don't know how to be cohesive about this because there's so many things that just make me so apprehensive about this show hitting deep enough emotionally by the end. It is so empty at the moment and I haven't been convinced that that will change as of yet.

Without further ado, an incomplete list of my thoughts thus far:

Oh uh . . . THIS IS MADE OF SPOILERS . . . so yeah

Gabe. I genuinely do not hate - or even really care enough to dislike - Gabe? What? I just. Just how? How can that even happen? This is such a distracting point because Gabe is a character that is supposed to be fundamentally irredeemable. Full stop. So plainly a nasty, abusive, toxic, utter dirtbag that Percy making the "warding-off-evil gesture" designed for monsters causes a reaction to a mortal. He is such an integral part of Percy's (let alone Sally's) character through a good chunk of the first book in particular, and even later on in PJO & HOO Let's be real here: Tartarus smells like Gabe to Percy even after years and I don't think you could get more on the nose than that. I really just don't understand how the show can drop the ball like this. I can - and might, once the season is complete - go on a whole separate rant about Gabe, but I think I've made enough of a point for now.

Let's talk about blue food. This show has done A LOT of verbal exposition all over the place. About everything. Like maybe kinda too much at times if we're being honest. So where is the explanation for the blue food? You have this poignant Thing about Percy burning the blue jelly beans as a sacrifice bc it's precious to him and yet give 0 reason why beyond the fact that his mom gave it to him? This isn't some fun easter egg for book fans to squeal over in the background bc it's a tiny fun reference you'd only notice as a reader - this is a developed plot point that (again) is recurrent throughout PJO & HOO oh and also ties back to Gabe being a dick for no reason but moving on not to mention a specific example of the bond Percy shares with his mother specifically in the abusive environment she endures to keep him safe. I would not be surprised if they do this bit of exposition later on, but the omission really made it feel hollow.

Which brings me to Sally Jackson, our queen. I like a lot about the portrayal that's been shown so far in terms of her alone, but I really didn't feel like we were given enough to show the relationship between her & Percy. This relationship is so so SO important - and I think the show recognizes that on a surface level to the point that it's altered the plot to confirm that she's not dead from the beginning and make that Percy's openly stated motivation for the quest - and yet I feel as though we've been 'told not shown' that fact? Sally is actively present for such a short amount of time to begin with and it's therefore even more important that her significance to Percy is given sufficient weight for the audience to buy in quickly.

Something that threw me off right from the beginning was the pacing. I think I actually did a sort of shocked double take after Mrs. Dodds went down because it's, presumably, the crux of that episode and yet was a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of scene. Then again with the toilet scene! There was no real build up or follow up; it just kinda happened? It's like all the important pieces are there but nothing is being given the space it really needs, no room to breathe, no time to let the audience be drawn in to the story & it's characters. Emotional/plot beats go by so fast you hardly have time to absorb them while other scenes are longer but still empty. Percy's introduction to the Hermes cabin & the montage (which was very fun btw) of him during capture the flag come to mind in that regard. Scenes where you have time to take it in but there's not much there to take. I don't really know what to do with that I guess? It makes it hard to judge what I'm supposed to find important and that throws me off.

Maybe this is kinda still pacing, but I feel like many of the opportunities for suspense/surprise/tension have been totally missed (if not outright sabotaged). There are instances earlier, but I am still reeling from the Aunty Em scenes. I'm trying not to be stuck on "in the book" rhetoric because that's a different beast, but I really have a hard time understanding the benefit to altering the reveal in that way. Same thing with the formal announcement that Sally was not killed - Percy barely has time to grieve before being told she's alive, and any suspense that might have built by Percy mulling over her fate is ruined. Other scenes, like the Furies on the bus, feel like they have no stakes because they're dispatched so quickly. (Okay yeah this is clearly still tied to the pacing lol). There are smaller moments where I also felt the 'told not shown' rearing it's head. Places where they say something is important but don't show anything to back that up. It's like despite all the stuff about how their quest is dangerous and how dire the circumstances are, there's no actual evidence that that's true? They're in a cab and then the bus and then strolling through the woods and then killing Medusa - all with no visible damage or noticeable repercussions to them. I just haven't felt any payoff from their successes because their successes aren't made to look like actual accomplishments.

Look. This isn't the movies. I saw The Lightning Thief [movie] in theatres (quite possibly on opening weekend) and went from exhilarated anticipation going in to actually literally ranting with my friend on the way out. Those movies were barely based on the source material and that is infuriating as a fan of such a quality series. The main frustration there *was* that MANY significant things were missing and/or different from the book not to mention the flagrant disregard for the basic plot. That's not what's going on here, at least not for me.

This is disappointing in a different way because I'm (mostly) able to step back from the fact that certain moments in the book aren't being show here (looking at you, hacky sack scene) or are being adjusted for this newer version; there are elements I'm definitely enjoying for themselves, and I can see potential in some of the changes long term. I'm going to watch through because I am willing to put some faith in a wonderful cast and Uncle Rick that this will come to a place that does the story justice.

But at the moment? I'm just not there yet.

#pjo #pjo tv adaptation #pjo series #smelly gabe? who's that?#truly didn't realize how many feelings i had about gabe's role in the story #i s2fg if that turns out to be blackjack i'll riot #shout out to the flying shoe design #can't wait to see the cosplay for those #pjo 1x01 #pjo 1x02 #pjo 1x03 #spoilers #pjo spoilers #though really they're mostly meta textual spoilers #bolo for future similar posts re this show #cuz i'm having a lot of Thoughts

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thewidowsghost · 2 years

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals and horiffic flashes of golden light.

I must've woken several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tastes like popcorn, only it's pudding. The pretty girl with the curly blonde hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

Annabeth - I presumed - looks around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't . . ."

Someone knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake, the blonde girl is gone.

A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

. . .

When I finally come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except that They're nicer than I'm used to. I am sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurts.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw, and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschingo cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against a porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week and his eyes are clouded with grief. Under one arm, Grover cradles a shoe box. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange t-shirt that says Camp Half-Blood.

Maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe Mom and Percy are okay. We're on vacation and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, Grover places the shoe box in my lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

"I -" I falter, looking at the horn.

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?" he asks.

"Mom. Percy. Are they really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There are grovers of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spreading out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the hige pine tree on top; even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My family is gone, nothing should be beautiful. Everything should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffles. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst saytr in the world." He moans, stomping his foot so hard that the Converse hi-tops come off. The inside of the who was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

As Grover struggles to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I think, Well, that settles it.

Grover is a saytr. I am ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that saytrs exist, or even minotaurs.

All that meant was that my mom and brother had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I'm alone.

Grover is still sniffling, and my grief subsides for a heartbeat.

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect Per-" the saytr's voice falters.

"Did my mother ask you to protect him?" I ask.

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least...I was."

"But why..." I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says gently. "Here." The saytr helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I almost recoil at the the taste, because I am expecting iced apple juice, but it's not that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Mom's cookies - homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with teh chips still melting. Drinking it, my entire body feels good and warm, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek or a bruise from my stepfather, and given me a cookie the way she'd always used to. She would always tell me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?" Grover sounds so wistful that I feel guilty.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighs. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw my stepfather a hundred yards."

"That's good," he says. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Grover takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

. . .

The porch wrapped all the way around a farmhouse.

My legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far; Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but I hold on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I couldn't let it go.

As we come around teh opposite end of the house, I catch my breath.

We must've been on teh north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters beautifully about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I can't comprehend what I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like the ancient Greek architecture I'd struggled to read about in books through my dyslexia - an open-air pavilion, and amphitheater, a circular arena - except that they all look brand new, their whie marble columns sparkling in the glittering sun. IN a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and saytrs played volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange t-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. SOme shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was still deleriouus, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl - Annabeth - who'd spoonfed me the popcorn-flavored pudding is leaning against the porch rail next to them.

I study the blond girl for a moment, and, as if she felt my eyes on her, she looks at me, amused. I feel my cheeks darken a little, and I turn to study the two other men.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black that it's almost purple. He looks like those paintings of baby angels - cherubs. He wears a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he could've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And that's Chiron." He points at the guy whose back is to me.

I recognize the tweek jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard that Percy had described to me.

"I suppose you must be my brother's Latin teacher?" I ask, and the man turns to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It seemed like the glint a teacher might have when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers the same letter. Through the mischievous glint, I catch the pain and grief in his eyes.

"Ah, good, (Y/n)," Mr. Brunner says, and I catch Annabeth studying me, as if she herself had felt the pang of grief that had pierced my heart when I'd mentioned my brother. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Mr. Brunner offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me with bloodshot eyes and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," I reply. I scoot a little farther away from him because if there was one think I'd learned from my stepfather, it's now to tell when an adult had been hitting alcohol.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

Annabeth steps forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on (Y/n)'s bunk? We'll be putting her in Cabin Eleven for now."

Annabeth replies, "Sure, Chiron."

Annabeth looks probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly hair, she is almost exactly what I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, but her eyes ruined the image. They are startling gray, like stormy clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she is analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

Annabeth glances at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. Then she says, "You drool in your sleep."

Then she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I say, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here too, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex–Mr. Brunner corrects. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Slightly confused, I look at teh director. "And Mr. D, sir . . ." I pause. "I suppose that stands for something as well?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cards, studying me as if I'd surprised him. "Yes, it does stand for something. But you don't go around using them for no reason."

"Right. Sorry, sir," I reply, and Mr. D looks at me again for a moment. I pause for another minute. "Chiron, sir. What is this place? What am I doing here?"

Grover, who had sat down at the card table, flinches every time a card lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles sympathetically at me.

"(Y/n)," he says. "Did your mother tell you nothing?" he asks.

"She said . . ." I remember, with a pang, Mom's sad eyes looking out over the sea. "She told me that she was afraid to send me here, even though ou - even though my father had warned her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's usually how they get killed." I flinch. "Young girl, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask politely.

He explains how you bid in pinochle, and so I do.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I question.

"No," Chiron decides. "You know that Grover is a satyr. You know" - Chiron points to the horn in the shoe box - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, my dear. What you may not know is that great powersat work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I take a moment to think about the former Latin teacher's words.

"I suppose that makes sense," I reply hesitantly.

Chiron looks at me expectantly. "Percy always said you were smart, (Y/n)," the man says with a glimmer of appreciation. "What else do you know?" he asks.

"Well," I think for a moment. "I suppose that, if it is true, then the gods would move with western civilization.

Mr. D looks at me and sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover trailing behind him.

"Is there a palace on Mount Olympus?" I ask Chiron.

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, (Y/n)."

I shift slightly in my seat. "Who am I, Chiron?" I ask. I pause, "Who are you?" I add hastily, " If you don't mind answering."

Chiron smiles gently. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get out of his wheelchair.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it?" But for now, we should get you a bunk in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet, and plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

Then, Chiron does rise from his wheelchair, but there is something odd about the way he does it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above the belt. At first, I wonder if he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the underwear isn't underwear; it is the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair, it's a box, and it must've been magic, because there was no way that a wheelchair could have contained all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobbly-kneed, with a polished hoof. Then another leg, then hindquarters, and then the box is empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse that had just sprung from the wheelchair; a huge white stallion. Where the horse's neck should be, the upper body of the teacher is smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur says, stretching. "I'd been cooped up in there for so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 2532 words

#annabeth chase x reader #percy jackson x sister reader

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ao3writers-pls-love-me · 2 years

Text

Solangelo/Nico di Angelo headcanon (being needy with friends and family and Will Solace)

i like to think that loved ones sometimes brings back the past-nico out of nico. like he gets cuddly and needy and annoy-ie around his precious people.

yeah...nico being grumpy and pretending he doesnt like hugs but he actually does and sometimes he conflicted abt it but he still really really like physical touch from the people he loves and adores bc it makes him felt save–

afshdjjjw no. hes just openly show u hes a touchy guy.

in my headcanon hes just very chill with it when he gets along well with u. if he likes u a lot, like, a whole lot, families brothers sisters will solace level, he will cling, onto you, like a koala, legit going to die if he lets u go.

imagine will, hasnt dated nico yet at that point, only very good friends, hugs him suddenly out of nowhere bc he thinks it will make nico surprised and be blushy and shy and angry and stuff, but actually, nico just, giggles (will had no idea he is capable of that), leans more into his arms and allows himself to be fulled with warmth and affection, forever.

hazel too, when nico being sad and not wanting ppl to be worried about him, shes just angrily sighs and gives him the biggest hug, telling him, whether he liked or not, everyone will always be worried about him, they wanted to make him happy, loved, adored, comfy, warm and deserved and belonged and loved. AND most importantly, being with him when he needed. so he should never be sad abt it. but the thing is, hazel honey, he already feels ok and swell the moment u hugged him. saying those emotional and heartfelt things just make him all sad and teary again. its worsen.

reyna the exception, knows this and she takes full advantage of it. whenever she and nico debate about something, idk kfc being superior than mcdonald ig and they get heated, nico about to drop his sword, his face is dark with rages, veins popping off on his neck, hands gripping so hard it could bleed any second—so reyna, power walk over him, with the same amount of anger and aggressively- embrace him. surprise surprise, it works, really well. ALL of nico's angers went out like wet sands dunk on small flashes of fire, they set out for pizza after that, with an embarrassed nico and amused reyna.

jason does this too sometimes, when he gets bored and wanna hangout with someone, aside from piper or leo of course. so nico, having will's disney and rom-com movies ready, with lots of snacks, pillows, blankets, never forget hugs as he quickly melts into jason's side and enjoying their boys night. they waked up with tense shoulders and hurted spine but hugged it out and everything's all ok.

again with will, but now, officially a (very cute) couple. to will, nico cuddles and snuggles with him a lot, like a LOT, but, its a little...different.

you see will, in the infirmary, talking, giving instructions, doing his job then boom–its hugging hours, u see nico clinging on his back like a life support.

you see will, in the training area, giving good archery advices for his siblings and other campers, shot a bird instead of the target, snap a bone back into place, the usual, then mother of percy–well would u look at that! snuggy cuddy huggy willy time! and nico literally materialized out of nowhere, running like a mad man and do the smoothest back flip right into will's front body, almost break his back in half, but will, despite the pain, hugs him back nonetheless.

you see will, scared of something, pointing a scapel at the shadow, waiting for something to pop out of it, then sighs, feeling ridiculous to himself, but it doesnt end there of course, a noise catches his heart, will tensed up immediately, shivering, dropping, a loud metal sound echos and when he looks back at his hand, he held no more the weapon that keep him safe. thats right...u guess it!–its cuddlinggggg timeeeee! and will being the terrified lil golden retriever he is, try to hide and run away but the predator caught up to him so quick he couldnt even blink. then what happened? eh nothing really, he gets choke–smother with loves and nico, thats just—yeah, call his siblings annabeth, red alert.

you see will, tired, kinda looked like hes accepting his fate now, with opened arms and closed eyes, hes just gave out his last prayer to his dad, figures it wouldnt do shit and the clock ticks and will flinches. ah...always on time i see nico? literally, zero point one second later, a dark humanoid ball flying into wills arms and you can hear cracks so loud it makes u hisses and cringes. but will, amazing man he is, smiles the most sunny shiny smiles he has and hugs that dark humanoid ball with everything dear to him. ignore the tears

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #lumosinlove #gossipgirl!au #wolfstar #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #hazelverse #harry potter #Harry Potter au

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zazzander · 2 years

Text

Jason Grace and Octavian, pt 5 / final

Healing the Gods

Of course, there is another parallel between Jason and Octavian – the rank of Pontifex Maximus. While Reyna is criticising Octavian for taking on the role, Jason is being proclaimed it. Interestingly, once again Octavian looks to gain power and is shamed by the characters around him; once again, Jason is handed this power and it is celebrated as something noble.

First, Octavian

Ignoring the murder part of this plan, one of Octavian's goals in Blood of Olympus (and perhaps long before) was to heal the gods. To fix the break that causes them to be divided, to fight themselves. He wants to restore them to full power. But I've spoken about Octavian's intent at length before. So this post is mostly being to talk about Jason.

And then, Jason

Going all the way back to the Lost Hero, we have Jason’s comment:

“So you believe those gods still exist?”

“Yes,” Jason said immediately. “I mean, I don’t think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they’re still around because they’re a powerful part of civilisation. They move from country to country as the centre of power shifted – like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome.” [Lost Hero 90]

Not example the words of someone who would later become a priest. But Jason changes during Blood of Olympus.

“I can change that,” he promised. “I will personally arrange a shrine for you on Temple Hill in New Rome. Your first ever Roman shrine! I’ll raise one at Camp Half-Blood as well, right on the shore of Long Island Sound. Imagine, being honoured–”

“And feared.”

“– and feared by both Greeks and Romans. You’ll be famous!”

He offers this in the heat of battle, as a means of turning Kymopoleia, the minor goddess, back to their side against the giants.

After the fight, Jason says,

“I will,” Jason said. “When we win this war, I’m going to make sure all the gods get recognised.” […] “Which is why I’m going to finish the job.” Jason didn’t know where these words were coming from, but the idea fight absolutely right. “I’ll make sure none of the gods are forgotten at either camp. Maybe they’ll get temple, or cabins, or at least shrines.”

As they part, Kym says,

“But, if you win, remember your promise, Pontifex.”

Jason took a moment to process her words. “I’m not a priest.”

“No?” Kym’s white eyes gleamed.

And Jason offers his own explanation to Percy,

“Roman used to have a Pontifex Maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacrifices and whatnot, to make sure none of the gods got made. Which I offered to do… I guess it does sound like a pontifex’s job.”

Jason is setting himself up as Octavian’s successor, even if he doesn't fully realise taht.

Octavian was the sole priest of the, seemingly for a long time. And Jason certainly hadn’t considered helping him in the past.

But as Octavian’s death approaches, Jason is prepping to take over.

Again, it’s interesting how their goals align; and so too does their path.

“I heard. The Senate plans to elect you Pontifex Maximus.”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t care about the title so much. I do care about making sure the gods are remembered.”

One thing this entire narrative has been insistent upon is that trying to gain power is wrong. But being handed it on a golden platter? Morally correct. Ambition is wrong, apparently.

But its such a luxury for Jason to be like "yeah I don't care" because anyone else would struggle to fulfil his promises without that title. Hell, even with that title, they might struggle. Octavian certainly did. The moment Reyna returned all bets were off. Everyone switched allegiance.

Jason Drops the Façade

The whole of Long Island Sound spread out to the horizon. They were so far up, and at such an angle that nobody below could possibly see them. The patrol harpies never flew this high. […] “But aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

“Who cares?” Jason asked.

Piper laughed quietly. “Who are you?”

He turned, his glasses place bronze in starlight. “Jason Grace. Please to meet you.”

As we see Jason recreate the memory of their first kiss. In a poetic way, Jason has become the person Hera knew he could be. For all the flack she gets, Hera really did know him best.

Ironically, Jason is now the person that could have been good friends with Octavian. Someone ready to break some rules. Someone who realises the nature of the gods and wants to fix things. Someone who wishes to make Rome a little more Greek.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

in the summer sun - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader but honestly it’s just a whole Weasley family slice of life fic. Summary: The war has ended and the Weasley’s appreciate their family now more than ever. Warnings: Mention of the war, mention of Fred having a near death experience, mention of PTSD, anxiety, nightmares and injuries, opening scene involves an anxiety attack, fuck is said twice by the way. Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This fic is inspired by this ask I received from Kai @weasleyclaw for the ‘send me a made up title game’! The warnings sound scary, but I promise this is a super fluffy slice-of-life fic with Fred and the reader, just existing after the war! Fred lives, obviously but he still had an accident and in reality, he’d be going through a lot of shit and I didn’t want to ignore that!

I am in no way romanticising mental illness and trauma, I myself struggle with a variety of mental illness and trauma and representation is super important, babey!!!!!! Proper support is important!!!!!!

I still can’t decide if I love or hate this but.... [schedules while I’m asleep]

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

Fred sat up quickly. Heavy and ragged breathing coursing through his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. He couldn’t even remember what he was dreaming of now that he’s awake, only remembering flashes of green and a loud ‘bombarda maxima’ before being shocked awake by his anxiety and fear.

He’s been plagued by nightmares for three months, ever since he was fighting in that seventh floor corridor and the wall came crashing down on him. He knows it’s normal to be haunted by these memories, he almost died, for crying out loud, but he would really like to have one night where he sleeps through it without being jolted awake.

He could feel the pressure in his chest get stronger as he struggled to breathe as he checked the clock on the bedside table. It reads 6:30am and when he looks out the window he realises the sun is already rising and the summer heat is making it into their bedroom. His girlfriend of five years sleeps in the bed next to him, snoring lightly having not been woken up by his oncoming anxiety attack.

Fred struggles to remember the grounding technique she taught him when he had his first attack. She’s his biggest supporter, always there when he needs her, but he wants to get better himself . He doesn't want to rely on her for the rest of his days no matter how often she reminds him it’s okay and that she wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.

He’s got his legs swung over the side of the bed, his body closing in on himself when he feels the bed move and arms wrap around his middle, “Breathe, Freddie, and tell me five things you can see,” she whispers gently in his ear.

His eyes darts around the room, searching as he tries his best to breathe, “The tree outside our window, the lamp, that chair,” he struggles to speak as his breathing is laboured, “your book on my bedside table, my slippers…”

“Good job, my love. Now, four things you can touch.”

His hands grab hers, “Your hands,” he says as he turns to face her, “the duvet, my shirt and…” His hand moves, from her hand to cupping her face, “your hair.”

This continues, Fred rattling off three things he can hear, two things he can smell and one thing he can taste before he realises his breathing has slowed down, his hands have stopped shaking and while the pressure in his chest is still there, it’s been alleviated and he knows it’ll disappear in a few moments.

Y/N whispers soft praise in Fred’s ear as she lays him back down in their bed. She’s so proud of the progress he has made in just a short few months. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, while he barely remembers, he knows it’s the same nightmare as usual. Hogwarts, duelling, wall comes crashing down and Fred almost dies. It’s more of a flashback if anything, that he’s constantly reliving the worst day of his life.

“That’s okay, we can just lay here and rest before we go to your mum and dad’s… If you still feel up to going?” Y/N knows when nights like this happen, Fred usually wants to stay in bed and recoup his energy and try again the next day.

“No, no, we have to go,” he says and it’s not because it’s an obligation, he truly does want to. After almost dying, after spending almost a year without knowing if Ron, Harry and Hermione were okay, after Bellatrix Lestrange threatened to kill both Ginny and his own mother and with Percy reconnecting with them all, he appreciates family time like he never did before. They all deserve to have happy, carefree and relaxing days and that’s what today is meant to be for them all.

“If you’re sure, my love,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. Fred probably won't fall back asleep, the sun has risen and while he won’t admit it, he’s too scared to try and sleep again. But he doesn’t mind, he’s perfectly content having Y/N fall back asleep in his arms and sometimes, rarely but sometimes, her soft snores lulls Fred into a light, undisturbed sleep.

It’s lunch time by the time Fred and Y/N apparate to The Burrow. Fred’s still recovering physically from his injuries - having your entire body crushed by rubble does that to you, so he happily side-along apparates with Y/N instead of solo floo’ing places.

When they walk into the house, they’re met with a chorus of hello’s and Molly dragging Fred into a hug and kisses his cheeks repeatedly, and then continues to complain that he has no meat on his bones and that he needs to be eating more while shoving a muffin into his hand.

George is snickering by the table because someone who isn’t himself is finally being on the receiving end of his mothers affection and he has Angelina Johnson awkwardly beside him. When Y/N raises her eyebrows at him, he mouths a ‘I’ll explain later’ before winking and walking Angelina over to her.

“Hey, Angie,” she says, pulling the girl into a hug. While they were never close at school, considering Y/N wasn’t a Gryffindor, they still got along when the time arose, “didn’t know my little Georgie here got himself a bird.”

George groans at the fact Y/N completely ignored him and Angelina blushes as she tries to hide her face behind her hair, but Y/N can see that she’s smiling and not at all bothered by the teasing, “Hey, I’m only teasing, come here!” she says as she pulls the embarrassed girl into a tight embrace. While Y/N drops the subject of Angelina and George finally getting their lives together and dating after years of pining, George knows Y/N is going to corner him later and get the answers out of him.

Hermione and Ginny quickly run down the stairs and grab Y/N, pulling her into a hug as well. Soon enough, the entire family is trying to squeeze inside the living room - including Bill and Fleur who always turn up for the Weasley get together and even Charlie has taken extended leave from his job in Romania to stay and spend the summer with everyone.

Because of the overcrowding, Ron whistles loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Who wants to play a game of quidditch and let mum have some peace and quiet?” Immediately Harry, the twins, Angelina and Charlie are out the door, already fighting about teams and position. Y/N briefly hears Harry whine ‘I want to be on Charlie’s team but he plays seeker’ as their voices fade. Ginny stays back, wanting to catch up with Y/N for a bit and promises to join everyone later.

Fred loves nothing more than spending time with his siblings. Growing up as a twin, he’s had someone constantly by his side, but he loves his huge family more than anything. George and he spend 5 minutes fighting over who gets to be beater until they just decide they’ll just be on different teams before they realise they don’t have enough siblings for a full team anyway, meaning the beaters are out of the equation.

This causes the twins to just start jokingly fighting over who plays chaser before Ron and Harry has to break it up so they can actually play.

Fred adores flying. His hair has been growing out and the wind through it as he flies is one of the best feelings in the world, he thinks. It makes him forget all his worries, his only focus is snatching the quaffle out of George’s slimy grip and getting it past Charlie, who’s playing both keeper and seeker for the other team to make up for the lack of players.

“Oi, Ickle Ronnikins,” he calls out from his broom, wobbling slightly as he yells to get his brother’s attention, “mind paying attention to the match and not your girlfriend? George is getting every shot in, mate,” He’s teasing of course. They can see the girls through the window and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t sneaking glances at Y/N.

Meanwhile, the three girls sit at the kitchen table chatting amongst themselves and Bill and Fleur are outside in the garden when Percy and his girlfriend turn up. There’s tension in the air, there always is when Percy turns up. It’s not that no one wants him there, but given his history of being a ‘right prat’ (Fred’s words), everyone is cautious.

But he goes right up to Molly, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her on the cheek and then turns to his dad and gives him a hug.

“Hey Gin, Y/N, Hermione,” he gives them a curt nod as they say hello back before pulling the girl beside him closer, “this is Audrey, my girlfriend. Do you guys mind hanging with her while I go find the boys?"

The girls, of course, nod. “How long have you and Percy been together for?” Y/N asks as the girl sits and she hopes she isn’t coming off rude. She’s been with Fred for five years and never met Audrey and Hermione’s been in the Weasley’s lives for even longer, so it’s clearly a recent development.

“Around this time last year… With everything going on and Percy not being on speaking terms with everyone, we haven’t really had the chance to meet…” she trails off and Y/N senses the awkward tension rising, so she grabs Audrey’s hand in a reassuring matter.

“Don’t stress about that. You’re here now and you’re family,” while Y/N isn’t officially a Weasley, her and Fred have spoken about their future together on numerous occasions so she doesn’t feel like she’s speaking out of turn offering ‘Weasley Family Status’ to Audrey, “I’m Y/N, Fred’s girlfriend.”

“And I’m Hermione, Ron’s girlfriend,” Hermione adds and before Ginny even speaks, Y/N interrupts her, “You’re obviously a Weasley, Gin,” and the girls all start giggling.

“I’m Ginny, Harry’s girlfriend!” she exclaims proudly when all the girls finally calm down and it only sets them off again.

What the girls don’t notice is that Molly’s watching them, with a smile on her face. She’s always wanted daughters - she loves Ginny and she loves every single one of her sons, but she wishes she had been able to give her a sister. But watching the scene unfold in front of her, how these girls welcome Audrey so easily into their lives, Molly’s eyes well with tears as she realises she has the most wonderful daughter and future daughter-in-laws a woman could ask for.

“How’s Fred doing?” Ginny asks. Of course, everyone’s suffered from the war, but everyone is constantly concerned about Fred.

“Between seeing his psychologist and his physical therapy appointments, he’s doing really good,” she says, looking out the window and she laughs as she sees Fred holding Ron in a headlock, shouting something about how rusty he is at keeper, “there’s days it’s hard, and he has really bad nightmares sometimes, and there's days where they make him not want to leave the house but he had one this morning and was determined to get here today. I’m really proud of him.”

Molly rubs Y/N on the shoulders, almost like a thank you for being there for Fred through it all as she places muffins in front of all the girls and takes her own seat. She takes a moment to scold Arthur for trying to repair the muggle radio playing he’s stolen from work before joining in on the girls’ conversation as they eat.

The sweet moment is interrupted by a voice that is clearly Percy’s shouting and both Y/N and Audrey’s automatic assumption is that the worst has happened. Especially when Y/N hears the familiar voice of her boyfriend shouting incoherently.

All the girls rush out the door, expecting to break up a fight but that isn’t what’s happening. Instead, Fred has Percy on the ground, rolling around in dirt and they’re both laughing . Molly has to excuse herself, tears welling in her eyes at the sight of Percy being accepted by his brother.

“What’s going on here?” Audrey questions. It’s clear she’s still weary, worried that at a moment's notice, Percy’s siblings will turn on him and forget his apology. Fred looks up, winking at Y/N before looking at Audrey and flashes her a cheeky smirk, “Perce said I suck at quidditch.”

Everyone rolls their eyes at this as Y/N grabs Fred’s hand and pulls him up. She lives with him, so one would think that the time spent apart at The Burrow is no big deal, but secretly Y/N has always been super clingy, wanting to always have Fred in her sights, and it's only worsened now they live together.

“Hi Freddie,” she giggles, tucking herself close to his side despite the summer heat blasting down on them, “I miss you.” she whispers.

Fred lets out a cackle of a laugh, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leading her to the tree they always sit under as he tells Ginny to take his spot on their makeshift quidditch team. Secretly, he was hoping to get away from the game because he needs a break and maybe an attempted nap under the tree.

He settles down first, stretching his legs out as he leans against the trunk and then he pulls Y/N down to sit between them and to rest her back against his chest. This has always been their favourite way to cuddle.

“What’s the go with George and Angie? I knew they were going on dates but...” Fred asks, and Y/N shrugs. “He just said he’d fill me in later so I’m still waiting. But she’s at family day, so it must be getting serious.” Fred hums behind her, resting his chin on top of his head as he watches his family on the makeshift field in front of them fight over quidditch rules. George is trying to teach Percy fake rules and Ginny’s smacking him over the head as he laughs at the confused expression on Percy’s face.

To their right, Arthur’s got the radio working and he’s charmed it to blast 80s muggle music loudly for the entire family to hear. Bill’s dragged Fleur to dance around with him and Arthur’s trying to get Molly to join them. Charlie’s sitting with Audrey and Hermione, probably droning on about dragons as usual and the girls listen intently, gasping when appropriate.

“What are you thinking about?” Y/N asks. Fred is never this quiet, usually speaking every single thought that comes to his mind without any sort of filter. It’s gotten him in trouble a fair few times, from both his mother and Y/N.

“I’m just happy,” he says quietly, tucking his head into her neck, and Y/N doesn’t miss the crack in his voice, “I’m so happy I’m here with everyone.” She shuffles in her spot so she can sit and face Fred and he can’t meet her eyes because his own are welling with tears.

“Don’t hide, my love, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she coos as she cups his cheeks in her hands. He leans into her touch and smiles as he sniffles.

“I know, it’s just…” He trails off and Y/N knows what he’s going to say. He almost wasn’t here and that thought haunts the both of them more often than they’d like to admit. “I know, but that doesn’t matter, because you’re here , and I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am you are,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheeks.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says and Y/N’s heart swells. Marriage and lots of ginger babies has always been in their life plan, but hearing Fred say it, so, so vulnerably, almost brings her to tears. “Forever, Freddie, you promised,” she replies and he leans forward and presses a soft kiss on her lips.

He’s always promised. He promised forever when they were 16 and they’d only been together for a year as they danced at the Yule Ball until 12am. At 17, when he admitted he wouldn’t be finish the school year. He promised once again at 18, before he flew out of Hogwarts with George. At 19, straight after George had his ear cursed off and he was sick with fear because the war was real and happening.

At 20, they were fighting in their school and he’d promised, ‘We're surviving this fucking thing and I’m marrying you as soon as I can.’

They pull apart and Y/N is smiling at him, adoration filled in her eyes as Fred feels around in his shorts, clearly trying to grab something. When he pulls it out, Y/N’s eyes catch the small, velvet black box and while she doesn’t want to get her hopes up, her heart is racing.

“I’ve been carrying this everyday, waiting for the perfect time,” he chuckles, shaking his head. You’d think Fred Weasley would have a huge and bizarre proposal, most likely with fireworks and dancing gnomes somehow, but in reality, this is perfect. He’s surrounded by his loved ones, there’s no war and he wants nothing more than to officially make Y/N a Weasley.

“Is that now, Freddie?” she says and he nods, smiling. Y/N thinks he’s never looked happier in his life. He knows what her answer will be so he doesn’t feel the slightest bit nervous.

“I promised you, we're surviving the war and I’m fucking marrying you as soon as I can, so here I am,” he pops the box open and Y/N gasps. It’s nothing extravagant but she doesn’t mind. Small and classy, just like she’d always wanted and she doesn’t even realise she’s crying until Fred’s hand wipes her tears with his free hand, “Will you marry me?”

She barely gives an answer, nodding her head violently as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his. Their teeth clash and they both laugh at Fred not being prepared to be jumped before getting a verbal response. Y/N pulls away and puts out her left hand, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He slides the ring on her finger and it’s a perfect fit. They continue to sit in front of the tree, watching their family but Y/N constantly catches herself looking at the diamond ring sparkling in the sun and she’s decided she’s never been happier as well.

Everything is perfect, because it’s the calm after a very, very long storm and she’s never taking family for granted again.

#fred wealsey fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley

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the-ghost-king · 3 years

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So I'm not going to start like an Anti-Chiron tag because I don't find that enjoyable personally, but every so often people ask why I dislike him so here's essentially a "masterpost" of my thoughts on that situation for when anyone asks, just so I have it to explain some...

This isn't nearly a full list, and there's many more "incidents" that make me less than fond of Chiron, I don't hate the old man but he leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I'm not a fan of that. He's a very twisted character.

- The Lightning Thief

This quote is literally just after Percy's mom "dies", they're all sitting on the porch of the Big House right after he's finally woken up after days of sleeping, and that's the line Chiron pulls out on him.

That's straight up emotional manipulation which was entirely unnecessary in the context of what Chiron was trying to explain. There wasn't a single reason for that, in the slightest.

Immediately following that, and Percy, who canonically has anger issues, does his best to remain calm, he is immediately threatened by Dionysus, and Chiron doesn't even tell Dionysus off for doing that; Chiron just let's it happen. It's Grover who has to speak up to tell Dionysus off...

The only reason Chiron comes out looking like a old guy in this scene is because Dionysus was so much worse in his behavior, at one point intimidating Percy with his power over madness.

- The Titan's Curse

This is the aftermath of when Nico ran away upon confirmation of Bianca's death. When Percy is telling Chiron about the situation, Chiron wishes Nico had been eaten alive rather than recruited into an army.

He'd rather a child be dead than fight against him, and he openly tells this to other children he's in charge of. If Percy went missing would he have said "I hope he was eaten <3" as well?

I don't blame Perry for not delivering the truth here, it was done in an effort to protect Nico; which wasn't something Annabeth had planned on doing... I don't blame Annabeth for that though either, she's been beneath Chiron so long that she probably doesn't realize the shady stuff he does, and to her "going to tell" probably was the "right" move because she was a child...

But the fact that Chiron believes Nico truly would be better off eaten than alive :/

- Tower of Nero

This quote from Tower of Nero shows that Chiron lied to a bunch of young children (most of them were young because the older campers are largely dead because of the war or too old for camp now). It wasn't just a little white lie that adults sometimes tell kids either; they were walking into battle and he told them it was a field trip.

Did he even begin to explain the danger he was putting these kids in? Did the children understand their situation? And how dangerous it was?

Kayla has been blindsided over the years into thinking that telling children they're going on a field trip instead of fighting a battle is something to make a joke of and not be questioned... (Again, I don't blame her she's only like 12 in the book, but still)

Apollo also agrees, which isn't on Chiron but it's a whole mother reason why I can't stand Rick's interpretation of Apollo...

<><><><><>

This isn't me being like "oh Chiron is the worst most evil character ever" I just think that he has numerous flaws which are largely ignored in favor of the "perfect wise teacher" narrative when in fact Chiron and Dumbledore share a lot of.. Offputting qualities.

I do think that some of the situation is simply a result of Chiron having his hands tied behind his back by the gods some. And he even goes so far as to confirm this in a scene of TLT

However many of the scenes in which he exhibits behaviors like that in my first three screenshots are not related to anything the gods require and are, in fact, of Chiron's own free will.

Some things I would blame Zeus and the council for, such as how he withholds information from Percy to an excessive amount for long periods of time even when Percy straight up asks about things. I could easily see that being Zeus trying to prevent Percy from claiming the prophecy as his own, and I could see reasoning that maybe Chiron had sworn over the River Styx or something similar.

But those things don't apply to Chiron making such an unnecessary comment about Percy's mother so close to her "death". It doesn't explain why he would say he hoped Nico had been eaten out loud, and it doesn't cover the fact that he led children into a battlefield without telling them that's what was happening.

I think the context of Chiron's choices and comments would be different if the campers were older. If they were in their late teens or early twenties for the most part, I wouldn't really have much to say about how Chiron handled the situation.

But this man is in charge of children and extremely young teenagers, Percy is only 12 in TLT, maybe if he would have been 16 or 17 then I could give Chiron a pass, but he wasn't. Within the context of the comment he made in the Titan's Curse, Percy is only 14 and Nico is 10 at the beginning of the book... You don't wish a 10 year old had been eaten alive by a monster no matter how bad you think the alternative is, and if you do wish that you don't say it out loud to a group of other children. In the battle from Tower of Nero we get a quick look at the battlefield, and although Ben's age, and the age of another girl fighting alongside him are never confirmed they are implied to be fairly young, and we know Kayla is only 12 at the time too; yet Chiron told them it was a field trip instead of a battle, limiting the time they would have to mentally prepare themselves for what was coming.

On top of that, the nods the reader gets to the fact that Chiron can't act out against the gods depletes over the course of the series. After TLT the amount of times the situation involves the gods interfering with what Chiron is allowed to say lessens, and by the time the Heroes of Olympus series comes around, these limitations on his speech is almost entirely gone. Yet as seen in Tower of Nero he still does morally questionable things in regards to how he treats the campers.

Like I said, I recognize that in many scenes Chiron's hands are tied behind his back because of the gods.. But there are undeniably things he does of his own free will that are, in the nicest manner, very :/

This also isn't a full list of comparisons just a few notable scenes. I don't think Chiron is equally as bad as Dumbledore, but I think it undeniable that Chiron has some significant flaws built into his character design.

A good character has flaws, and there's nothing wrong with having a character that doesn't always conduct themselves properly or have good intentions- it's actually good writing, and I can appreciate that, but for some reason I find myself personally rubbed the wrong way by Chiron. This doesn't make Chiron badly written, or poorly designed, in fact I would say Rick's Chiron is very well designed in lots of ways, but I just don't like how it's never acknowledged by anyone in the series.

Like I said, I'm not starting an anti-Chiron situation, I just think little events like those mentioned, the way he's built a child army, and how he doesn't even try to plead with the gods over raising the ages on campers being allowed to battle is a little sus. But it more so bothers me that there's no attention payed to this problem anywhere in the books, not even by a side character or Luke, nowhere.

I don't actually care that much and this isn't that important to me, but sometimes people ask why I don't like Chiron and this is basically just my explanation to hand off to them... It's not even so much that I dislike Chiron entirely, he's well written and has his "good" moments, I just don't like the way other characters interact with him and his actions.

It's more a personal beef with him rather than an aspect of poor writing or him "being bad"... PJO in general (and HoO/ToA to a much lesser extent) shows that there's not such an inherent good vs bad in the world, and that sometimes people are victims of circumstances in some situations, or they're horribly misguided in their actions, but the series does a good job of showing those people as human still, and I applaud that.

I don't really know how to tie this up in its entirety, but there's nothing wrong with having a morally grey character who does questionable things and in many aspects it is good writing. I think Chiron is a result of Rick not thinking through the implications what he's doing in lots of situations, and I can see a fairly consistent drop in Chiron's characterization from PJO-ToA which is consistent with most other aspects of Rick's work.

I also want to clarify that if you like Chiron and disagree with me, that's absolutely 110% okay, I just personally dislike Chiron and that's on me. Like my problem with many of Rick's other immortal characters, I think he missed important aspects of them in some manner and slightly (or entirely in some cases) mischaracterized them in comparison to their original myths.. Some of these characters he came around on and fixed their character in many aspects to their more "correct" characterization (like Hera), while others (like Chiron and Apollo) he never quite figured them out. Which is a running complaint I have with Rick so I'm just adding this to his tab.

But yeah, I don't hate Chiron I just dislike him and those are different things, and I don't think it's a bad thing to have a morally questionable character, Chiron just personally rubs me the wrong way and I just wanted to explain that more fully because I've been asked about it multiple times.

Also I apologize for not adding a [read more] to this, it's a complaint of mine often when scrolling through the tags but I'm on mobile currently and don't have immediate access to a computer so~

#pjo #Hoo #Chiron pjo #percy jackson #long post

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weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years

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And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied.

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in.

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly.

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes.

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George.

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George.

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape.

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is.

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel.

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it.

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her.

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins.

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say.

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings.

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George.

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly.

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs.

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter.

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom.

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.”

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet.

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all.

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring.

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies.

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement.

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop.

“Alright Harry, your turn.”

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry.

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity.

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?”

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.”

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously.

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that.

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!”

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks.

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny.

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break.

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?”

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully.

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore.

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest.

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body.

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep.

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

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